Explainer

Culture

Royalty

29 April 2023

4 min read

Making sense of the coronation’s oaths, oils and acclamations

The significance of the thousand-year-old coronation ceremony is unpacked by Ian Bradley to reveal the vulnerability at its heart.

Ian Bradley

Ian Bradley is Emeritus Professor of Cultural and Spiritual History at the University of St Andrews.

A medieval illustration of King Edgar's coronation shows him between his predecessor and successor, while angels hover above him.

King Edgar enjoys his coronation, the first in English history.

Life of St Edward the Confessor, CC BY-NC 3.0, University of Cambridge.

Coronations point to the sacred nature of the United Kingdom monarchy. Packed with religious symbolism and imagery, they exude mystery, bind together church and state through the person of the monarch and clearly proclaim the derivation of all power and authority from God and the Christian basis on which government is exercised and justice administered. At their coronations kings and queens are not simply crowned and enthroned but consecrated, set apart and anointed, dedicated to God and invested with sacerdotal garb and symbolic regalia. Here, if anywhere, we find the divinity which, as Shakespeare observed more than four hundred years ago, hedges the British throne.

The United Kingdom is the only country which still marks the accession of a new monarch with a coronation. Of the other European monarchies, Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands have never held coronations, Spain discontinued them in 1492 (they were not revived when the monarchy was restored there in 1975), Denmark in 1849 and Sweden in 1873. Norway abolished coronations in 1908 although since then its monarchs have undergone a ceremony of consecration or blessing in Nidaros Cathedral, Trondheim, with the royal regalia present in the church but not used in the ceremony.

Anglo-Saxon innovation

Coronations are religious services rather than constitutional ceremonies. While details have been subtly adapted over the centuries, the basic format has essentially remained the same for over a thousand years. The crowning of the monarch is just one of several distinct elements in the service. Others include recognition by the assembled congregation representing the people of their new sovereign, administration of oaths, anointing with holy oil, investiture with the royal regalia and celebration of Holy Communion. All these elements are present in the earliest surviving order for the coronation of an English monarch, prepared by St Dunstan as Archbishop of Canterbury for the Anglo-Saxon King Edgar in 973.

Edgar’s coronation, which took place in Bath Abbey, included many features found in all subsequent coronations. Held on Whit Sunday, the traditional day for ordinations to the priesthood, it laid considerable emphasis on the theme of consecration and the priestly aspects of kingship, exemplified by the wearing of priestly robes. Anointed and crowned by Dunstan, Edgar was entrusted with the protection and supervision of the church and graced with the titles rex dei gratia (king by the grace of God) and vicarus dei (Vicar of God). His wife, Aelfthryth, was anointed and crowned as queen. This practice, of a double crowning and anointing, was followed in the coronations of all subsequent married kings and queens as it will be with Charles and Camilla on 6 May.

Oaths and oil

Edgar was led into Bath Abbey by two bishops, as Charles will be as he enters Westminster Abbey which has been used for all English coronations since 1066. Before crowning, he was required to swear three oaths which form the basis of those still taken by every British monarch. As now framed, they include promises to adhere to the rule of law and the principles of justice and mercy, and to maintain the laws of God, the Protestant religion and the Church of England. Having taken the oaths, the monarch is anointed with holy oil, a further sign of being set apart and consecrated in the manner of a priest.

Earning the right

Edgar’s coronation included the celebration of Mass and it remains the case that the coronation is embedded in a celebration of Holy Communion. Dunstan’s order clearly established the church’s control over royal inauguration rites in England and specifically the key role of the Archbishop of Canterbury in presiding over the ceremony. In the sermon that he preached at a second coronation over which he presided, that of Ethelred the Unready at Kingston Upon Thames in 979, he preached on the duties of a consecrated king, describing him as the shepherd over his people and reminding him that while ruling justly would earn him ‘worship in this world’ as well as God's mercy, any departure from his duties would lead to punishment at Doomsday.

A sense of sharing

Rooted in tradition as they are, coronations still have the power to connect with the popular spiritual and religious instincts that remain strong, if often hidden, in our so-called post-Christian society. In a much-quoted article on Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953 two sociologists, Edward Shils and Michael Young, described it as:

‘the ceremonial occasion for the affirmation of the moral values by which the society lives. It was an act of national communion and an intensive contact with the sacred.’

They noted that it was frequently spoken of as an ‘inspiration’ and a ‘re-dedication of the nation’. The ceremony had ‘touched the sense of the sacred’ in the population, heightening a sense of solidarity in both families and communities. They pointed to examples of reconciliation between long-feuding neighbours and family members brought about by the shared experience of watching the ceremony together on television.

We have recently witnessed something of this sense of national communion and intensive contact with the sacred in the public reaction to the death of Elizabeth II, as shown by the numbers who came out to witness the progress of the late queen’s coffin on its last journeys and to file past it in the High Kirk of St Giles in Edinburgh and Westminster Hall.

Ultimately, Christian monarchy points beyond itself to the majesty, mystery and vulnerability of God. It is a lonely, noble and sacrificial calling. What our sovereign needs and deserves most is our loyal and heartfelt prayers. As we prepare for the king’s coronation, we could do well to reflect on and respond to the request that his mother made before hers:

“You will be keeping it as a holiday; but I want to ask you all, whatever your religion maybe, to pray for me on that day, to pray that God may give me wisdom and strength to carry out the solemn promises I shall be making, and that I may faithfully serve them and you, all the days of my life.”

Article

Attention

Culture

Fashion

7 May 2025

5 min read

Here’s to the Met Gala, and to those who weren’t there

We’re teaching ourselves that if we’re void of attention, we’re void of significance.

Belle Tindall

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A celebrity wears a highly stylised cuboid suit to the Met Gala.

Janelle Monáe directs her attention.

Instagram.com/janellemonae/

The Met Gala happened on Monday; a menu of celebrities was offered up to us, each one posing on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the heart of New York City, decorated from head-to-toe, like an army of art exhibitions that had come to life.

What happens as soon as these finely clad celebrities make their way into the museum? Nobody outside of the room knows. And, Anna Wintour, the brains behind the entire operation, goes to infamous lengths to keep it that way. But everything that happens in the moments before they walk through those iconic doors is a carefully curated display, designed for our eyes to feast on. They’re counting on us to look their way, to stare, to soak it all in.

It poses the question: if a Met Gala happens and nobody is around to see it, does it really take place? I think I can hazard a guess at what Anna Wintour’s answer would be.

Our attention is the currency of the entire event; every celebrity is vying for it. And it’s not enough to have a little share of it, the prize is to have the most. At the very least, you need to earn enough attention to ensure that your presence at the event is memorialised. It’s interesting, it’s like an incredibly opulent version of teenagers writing that ‘so and so was here’ on all their school desks. The craving seems to be the same, we want our presence in a specific time and place to be noted and remembered. The school pupil’s tool of choice is a marker pen; the celebrities deploy their outfits.

Can’t walk in the outfit? Doesn’t matter.

Can’t sit? Doesn’t matter.

Can’t breathe? Doesn’t matter.

The clothes aren’t made to be in, they’re made to be seen in - there’s a difference.

I sort of like the Met Gala, you know. I’m drawn in by how otherworldly it feels, how its opulence is not quite off-putting enough for us to ignore it. Publicly, we’ll roll our eyes. Privately, though, we’ll flick through who Vogue thinks looked the best (and – more importantly - the worst). The whole event knows it’s ridiculous and, in return, we seem to be pretty forgiving of it. It’s silly – they know it, we know it. The dynamic works.

Success is being seen. It’s being documented, being observed, being celebrated.

This year, I noticed a slight slant to the reporting of the event. My social media feeds seemed to be brimming with two lists they wanted me to pour over: those who were there and, more notably, those who were not there.

I’ve been so struck with how odd this is. Again and again, I was being offered names of celebrities who were not in attendance. Publications and influencers were lamenting the absence of Emma Stone, sneering at the Blake Lively shaped gap in the attendee-list, and insisting that poor old Meghan Markle must have been barred from the proceedings.

In truth, we have no idea why any given person was or was not at this year’s Gala. The speculation is a waste of time – but it does act as a doorway into understanding our perception of success.

I think it can be boiled down to this: success is being seen.

It’s being documented, being observed, being celebrated.

Success is being there. And so, it’s unfathomable to us that anyone would want to be anywhere other than where the eyes of the world are directed. Our value diminishes the longer we dwell in obscurity, anonymity is nothing short of self-sabotage. That’s what we’re subliminally telling each other.

I know that this is what we think because it’s what I think. I find the evidence of my hypothesis within myself.

A need to be seen is written into the rock of my being. In 2021, I felt as though I had been snapped in half – my fear of obscurity exposed - by Michaela Coel’s Emmys acceptance speech. She had just won a prize for I May Destroy You, a limited series that she both wrote and starred in. Clinging shakily to her piece of paper, Michaela implores anyone listening to ‘disappear’.

She says,

‘In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to in turn feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success—do not be afraid to disappear. From it. From us. For a while. And see what comes to you in the silence.’

This droplet of wisdom stopped me in my tracks.

Maybe our metrics of success are a little wonky, our understanding of significance is malfunctioning. I think Michaela’s right, we know too much and see too much. Furthermore, we’re much too known and much too seen. We’re on display. Endlessly. And it’s not good for our souls. We’re teaching ourselves that if we’re void of attention, we’re void of significance.

And that’s a problem.

I’ve actually taken Michaela’s advice. I’ve taken to disappearing every now and again – I hate it, I fear it, I fight it with all my might - but I know that it’s a medicine I need to take. It reminds my soul that if I fell in the woods and nobody was around to hear it, I would still have made a sound.

An unperceived existence still counts. We need to remind ourselves of that, and sharp-ish. Only then will we stop deifying attention and vilifying anonymity.

And so, with all of that in mind, here’s to the Met Gala – the most prestigious event in fashion. And here’s to the people who weren’t at it. Wherever the appreciative eyes of the world are, may we all find the courage to be elsewhere.

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