Lady Rosemary Muir was 23 when she received a letter from the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl Marshal, informing her that she had been chosen as one of the six maids of honour to assist the Mistress of the Robes in the coronation of Elizabeth II. That was in January 1953. From then until the coronation day in June, the maids of honour were the subject of many excited articles. The press dubbed them ‘the Lucky Six… envied by every other woman in the land’.
Envied they certainly were, but luck had little to do with it. Lady Rosemary tells me it was no surprise to her that she was appointed to be a maid of honour. ‘I was a duke’s daughter,’ she says as we look through her hefty album of coronation photographs and cuttings. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
We meet in March, when newspapers are full of jumpy reports that the coronation for Charles III will be ‘stripped back’. The King will not wear breeches or silk stockings. There will be no coronets for the peers, no specially made coronation stools for the guests. There will be only 2,000 guests in Westminster Abbey, instead of the 8,000 who attended in 1953. Many commentators seem to have accepted that it’s fated to be a disappointment.
I ask Lady Rosemary what she makes of Hugo Vickers’s assertion, which concludes this year’s reprint of his book Coronation: The Crowning of Elizabeth II, that ‘the coronation of King Charles III cannot hope to match the magnificence of 1953’. ‘Yes, I’m sure he’s right,’ she says. ‘Nowadays everything is hit and miss.’
Lady Rosemary, the daughter of John Spencer-Churchill, tenth Duke of Marlborough, was brought up in Blenheim Palace. The household was run with military precision by her ‘very strict mother’.
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