Queen Charlotte, the wife of King George III, is the subject of a lavish Bridgerton prequel, which is launching on Netflix this month. She is also commemorated by the Queen Charlotte’s Ball, which was hosted by King George in 1780 in honour of the Queen’s birthday. The Queen funded a London women’s hospital, later named the Queen Charlotte and Chelsea Hospital, with funds raised by the ball. Famously, she stood next to a gigantic birthday cake as the debutantes of the day filed by, dropping a curtsy to the Queen, a tradition that has persisted.
The Queen Charlotte’s Ball became an annual event each May, the fulcrum of the social season, which was defined by the movements of the Royal Family, who were in residence in the capital from April to July and from October until Christmas. During these months, the aristocracy and members of the ruling classes made it their custom to reside in London.
Well-bred girls, or ‘debutantes’, were launched into society at the age of 17 or 18 with a formal introduction to the monarch and a debut at the high-profile ball. The parties and special events of the ensuing months showcased the debutantes’ charms to potential suitors.
The day on which a young girl was formally presented to the Sovereign was considered one of the most important in her life. Debutantes received Summons from the Sovereign and these Royal commands had to be obeyed. On presentation, the debutante and her mother were ushered into the Royal presence and announced. The debutante stepped forward and made a low curtsy to both the King and Queen, who each bowed in acknowledgment. She was then expected to exit, walking backwards, from the Royal Presence.
In 1957, the late Queen Elizabeth II in 1957 terminated the archaic practice of Court presentations altogether. The formal framework of the Season gradually dissolved, leaving a series of high profile events, from balls and concerts to sporting events and horse-racing, that traditionally form the backbone of the English social scene in the spring and early summer.
It is a curious fact that Queen Charlotte has become associated with a glamorous society ball and an equally glittering Netflix drama because she is primarily famous for being ugly and rather dull. For the English who greeted her arrival in London in 1761 to marry George III she was a figure of ridicule, who had lived in penurious seclusion in a tiny German principality and knew nothing of high society. Her looks caused general dismay; in a period when voluptuous, buxom women were the ideal, Charlotte was small and thin with a sallow complexion, a plain face and terrible dress sense. But she had the strength of character to resist the sycophantic attentions of her ladies in waiting when she landed on the English coast, saying “Let the king dress himself, I shall dress as I please”.
On the day of her marriage and Coronation, she was swamped by her ermine-trimmed purple velvet mantle and weighted down by a set of enormous pearls. Undaunted, she is said to have entertained the crowd after the Coronation by singing and playing the harpsichord (she was very musical).
Music would form an important bond between Charlotte and George, and they settled down to a cosy domestic life together, enjoying playing music, hosting musical evenings and attending horse races. Charlotte proved extremely fertile and was almost continually pregnant; she had 15 children 13 of whom survived. The royal family upheld rather strait-laced and puritanical values and Charlotte enjoyed presiding over an austere and, according to many observers, dull household. For the first few years of her marriage, she lived a contented and domesticated life.
George, on the other hand, aspired to be a true ruler, despite the fact that he was extremely ill-educated and ignorant, and he soon found himself in perpetual conflict with his ministers. This led to his first breakdown, which unfortunately manifested in complete sexual disinhibition and a tendency to make passes at the ladies of the court. Charlotte was a compassionate and understanding nurse and within a couple of months he was beginning to recover, but this was only the beginning of his illness.
Under pressure because of the long-drawn-out agony of the war with the American colonies, and beset by extravagant sons, most notably the Prince of Wales, who were dissipated and undisciplined, George was forced to retreat to Windsor Castle, where his madness took hold. It has long been theorised that George was suffering from a genetic blood disorder called porphyria, though more recent research indicates that he might have been suffering from bipolar disorder. As the illness took hold, he entered violent phases, attacking his pages, assaulting and terrorising the ladies of the court, and threatening his wife. He was locked in combat with the Prince of Wales, who planned to use his father’s madness as a reason to become regent.
Alarmed, Charlotte chose to fight the calumnies that were being spread about the king by his sons, taking him out in public again with his daughters. Her loyalty effectively killed off the Regency Bill but Charlotte was forced to keep up a brave public front as the king see-sawed between madness and lucidity. When her husband eventually went blind in 1811, she had to accept her son’s regency. Probably relieved, she withdrew back into her domestic life with her husband, eventually dying in 1817 after she had presided over her youngest daughter’s wedding. Her husband survived her by two years.
Charlotte had endured contempt and disloyalty from her subjects and her family and had survived years of despair as she watched the mental decline of her husband. But she remained loyal and devoted, despite everything.
The Coronation is headline news and union jacks are ubiquitous. Coronation-themed merchandise adorns every supermarket checkout and we’re bombarded by images of crowns, regalia, golden coaches and angelic choristers.
As the country prepares for another royal spectacle, we must accept that not everyone will be an ardent supporter of these events. Some people simply do not feel enthused by national, royalist or patriotic celebrations and it is their right to opt out.
People who do not enjoy joining in these exuberant celebrations are often unfairly dismissed as killjoys or condemned for being unpatriotic. But we should bear in mind that we all have different ways of socialising and celebrating, and some of us are self-contained introverts or avowed individualists, who find mass partying intimidating and depressing.
There is no rulebook that dictates how we should feel on these big national occasions, when everybody supposedly comes together in a mood of jubilant conviviality. An inability to feel stirred or excited by these events does not indicate that a person is nurturing traitorous feelings of antipathy, merely that they are resistant to communal emotions, mass celebrations and esprit de corps.
There should be room for everybody to behave as they choose on these occasions; it just takes good manners and a spirit of tolerance and acceptance:
• If you are surrounded by fervent Coronation-celebrants, and perhaps can number some of the most ardent royalists amongst your close friends or family, you may find yourself in the horns of a dilemma. You may be forced to admit that refusing to participate enthusiastically will really hurt the feelings of people you care about, and therefore accept that you need to make a conscious effort for their sake and join in the celebrations with good grace. That means eating heartily, participating in the party games, chatting convivially and keeping any feelings of negativity or grumpiness to yourself.
• If you enjoy the communal aspect of the celebrations (street parties, neighbourhood barbecues etc) but wish that they were not associated with the Coronation, weigh up your options carefully. If you do decide to attend, keep your negative feelings to yourself – don’t spend the entire day haranguing your neighbours about why you hate this type of event while enjoying the hospitality and helping yourself to large servings of Coronation quiche. As with all social occasions, you should only consider attending if you are confident that you can fulfil your obligations to be a sociable guest.
• If you feel that toeing the line is beyond you, act decisively and don’t attend – a non-show is far preferable to putting in a moody and dispiriting appearance. Politely decline the invitation, and if it at all possible, explain the reason why. If you admit that this is not something you’re comfortable with, then you are taking the burden of your non-appearance on yourself, and your host will not feel hurt or rejected. This is the polite thing to do.
•Avoid the whole issue by going away for the Coronation weekend. If you have an unbreakable “prior engagement”, you can opt out with a clear conscience. Choose your destination carefully, or you may find your escape is sabotaged by Coronation enthusiasts!
• Don’t force conviviality on refuseniks. If you’re aware that somebody is making a big effort to attend a party, allow them to navigate the celebrations on their own terms, and don’t turn into a manic cheerleader, who’s always propelling them into the social fray. Part of being a good host is embracing the idiosyncrasies and foibles of all your guests.
• If a refusenik turns down your invitation, with or without an explanation, accept it. If you concede that some people are simply happier having a quiet drink with a couple of friends or ignoring the whole event altogether, you will be able to enjoy your own celebrations, free from any anxiety that others are missing out.
• Never try to persuade a refusenik to change their mind, which will inevitably prove futile and disappointing.
Whether it’s the Coronation, a friend’s wedding or a big party, you can be sure that some people who confidently expected an invitation are going to be disappointed. We’ve all experienced the stab of dismay when we realise that we’re not on that all-important guest list. But, if you are the host, there are ways of mitigating some of the negativity, while aspiring guests can overcome feelings of resentment by taking positive action.
We’ve all struggled with guest lists when organising social events. Often, we are simply defeated by limited capacity – the size of the venue, or our per capita budget dictates that cuts must be made. On other occasions, the decision to exclude certain individuals is much more subtle and may well involve social engineering. You may be hesitant about inviting both halves of a recently divorced or separated couple, or you are aware that one of your proposed guests has had a major falling out with your partner or best friend. You may be wary of inviting an abrasive or contentious individual, who tends to get drunk and abusive and is a social disruptor. Or you have decided that your proposed party is not suitable for older friends and relatives.
Whatever the reason, you will need to grab the bull by the horns and let the person who is not invited know. It is far better to confront the situation openly than to let the news filter through and fester.
• Inform the person as directly as you can. This might mean sending an email, which is preferable to the brevity of a text. Or, better still, you could phone your friend and have a conversation. By far the best excuse is limited capacity – everyone understands how difficult juggling guest lists can be, and most people will be able to accept this. Keep your explanation short, and don’t allow yourself to be diverted into unnecessary detail. Express your heartfelt regret.
• If your reasons for not inviting someone are more complex and are associated with their character or relationships within your social circle, try and avoid getting drawn into a painful explanation. Fall back, if possible, on the numbers excuse.
• Suggest an alternative date – say you’re really sorry about the party but would love to meet up for lunch or a drink.
• If you have excluded a whole mini-social circle from your party (eg the mothers from the school run, or the friends you have made at yoga classes), you could suggest starting a WhatsApp group chat and see if you can arrange to all get together for a separate celebration.
•Remember, we all have inner and outer circles of friends. If you are not inviting someone from your inner circle, then you really will need to make an effort to ensure they do not feel rejected. You do not need to feel so concerned about potential invitees from the outer circle.
Realistically, we all know that at some point we’re not going to make the guest list, but this doesn’t stop us feeling excluded. The first important step is to recognise your non-invitation as a pragmatic decision, not a signal that you are a worthless and unlovable human being. Don’t give in to bile and bitterness and, whatever you do, ensure that you do not spend the day or evening in question feeling morose at home.
• If your friend has the courtesy to give you an explanation for your non-invitation, listen carefully and try to accept it graciously: “Don’t worry about it – I know how difficult it can be juggling limited numbers.” You can be sure that this will mean you rise in their estimation, as they have probably been worrying about how you will take the bad news.
• Talk to other friends, and if you’re feeling upset or disappointed, save your confidences for them. If they are good friends, they will reassure you and assuage your feelings of social rejection.
• Think carefully about the friend who has not invited you. If you have a sneaking suspicion that this may be because of your behaviour in the past, now is the time to confront it. Or you may be forced to admit to yourself that your friend is no longer part of your inner circle, that you have drifted apart and are semi-estranged, which explains why you have not received an invitation.
• Don’t bad-mouth the host or the event. If you allow yourself to feel resentful, vitriolic outbursts against the host may well find their ways back to his/her ears and might cost you a friendship. You may also be tempted to pour scorn on the event that you are not attending, basically signalling “I wouldn’t have wanted to go to it anyway.” This response looks childish and petulant and won’t do you any favours. You will be much more impressive if you are good-natured and cordial and ask your friends questions about how the party went.
• Don’t stay in sulking on the day of the event, seek out alternative entertainment. Arrange for a night out with a different friendship group or spend some time with your family or partner – this will reassure you that you’re not a social pariah and with any luck any thoughts about the event you are missing will soon evaporate amidst the general bonhomie.
As part of a new series, the team at Debrett's Education have been speaking to the heads of UK independent schools about their own experiences in education.
This week we meet Francie Healy, head of Bethany School, who attended St Enda's National School and Mary Immaculate Secondary School in Lisdoonvarna, West of Ireland.
Much of Victorian social life was conducted through the medium of morning visits. This stately ritual of calling upon acquaintances, leaving visiting cards or briefly joining them for a few minutes of formal conversation, was thought to oil the wheels of social intercourse. It ensured that the social circle was clearly delineated, reinforcing feelings of belonging and status. While the custom has disappeared from the modern world, it reveals a great deal about the rigid hierarchies and expectations of Victorian society and how much social life has changed.
We have been examining Victorian etiquette manuals for insights on this social practice:
“When anyone enters, whether announced or not, rise immediately, advance toward him, and request him to sit down. If it is a young man, offer him an armchair, or a stuffed one; if an elderly man, insist upon his accepting the armchair; if a lady, beg her to be seated upon the sofa. If the master of the house receives the visitors, he will take a chair and place himself at a little distance from them; if, on the contrary, it is the mistress of the house, and if she is intimate with the lady who visits her, she will place herself near her. If several ladies come at once, we give the most honourable place to the one who, from age or other considerations, is most entitled to respect. In winter, the most honourable places are those at the corners of the fireplace.”
Servants would, of course, meet the visitors at the front door and usher them into the drawing room. Clearly, the arrival of visitors set in motion an intricate social dance. Everyone stood to greet visitors and the spatial dynamics between the host and visitors, as well as the relentless insistence on ‘honourable’ places, close to the fireplace, being assigned according to rank and status, is intriguing.
Even the furniture played an important role in the notion of hierarchy. Chairs with arms were seen as high status and the gentleman of the house’s chair was imposing, with a high back and padded armrests, while his wife’s chair was smaller, lower, and possibly without arms, as befitted perceptions of her position. The sofa was reserved for important non-family visitors.
Contrast our own attitude to visitors. We do not of course sit in our sitting room, waiting for visitors to be announced. Instead, we go to the front door and usher them in, taking their coats first, then showing them to the sitting or dining room. When it comes to seating, we might head a visitor away from a particularly hard or uncomfortable chair, but we would scarcely be making minute judgments about whether the chair has arms or is “stuffed” (well-upholstered). As with the Victorians, good manners dictate that we pay special attention to elderly visitors, ensuring that they have a comfortable chair and are not sitting in a draught, perhaps placing them near a fire or radiator in winter.
“Visits are of various kinds, each of which has its own forms and observances. There are visits of ceremony, visits of congratulation, visits of condolence, visits of friendship.
Visits of ceremony, though they take up a large share of the time of a fashionable lady, are very stupid affairs as a general thing, and have little to recommend them except Fashion. The best thing about them is that they may and should be short.”
Victorian ladies, and family men, conducted most of their social life in the domestic sphere – in their own or other people’s houses. As the above passage indicates, visits covered a range of social situations, from a formal ritual (for example acknowledging a new arrival in the neighbourhood), through visits of good form (which marked special occasions for celebration or commiseration), to simple visits of friendship. The latter were not subject to formal etiquette, but to the “universal principles of good manners” but all other types of visit were dictated by elaborate rituals.
Today, we socialise and communicate in a myriad of different ways. We speak on the phone, we text or email, we post on social media, and much of the time we rely on the immediacy of these methods to maintain our relationships, rather than in-person contact. We go out to socialise, in pubs, restaurants, clubs and bars in ways many of our Victorian ancestors could not. Many of our social transactions are casual, impulsive and improvisational, lacking the confined framework of custom and ritual that dictated how Victorians socialised.
“A [morning] call is not less than ten nor more than twenty minutes in the city; in the country, a little longer… A morning visit should be paid between the hours of two and four p.m., in winter, and two and five in summer. ... Morning, in fashionable parlance, means any time before dinner… In a morning call or visit of ceremony, the gentleman takes his hat and cane, if he carries one, into the room. The lady does not take off her bonnet and shawl. In attending ladies who are making morning calls, a gentleman assists them up the steps, rings the bell, follows them into the room, and waits till they have finished their salutations, unless he has a part to perform in presenting them. Ladies should always be the first to rise in terminating a visit, and when they have made their adieux, their cavaliers repeat the ceremony, and follow them out.”
Although morning calls were short, there were certain rituals associated with them. Gentleman, who had obligations outside the home, were more likely to make visits with their family on Sunday afternoons. If they were accompanying ladies, the were expected to subtly oversee the proceedings, even though the actual leave-taking was initiated by the ladies. Servants would relieve visitors of rain-soaked clothing, umbrellas and parcels (items that had been purchased from the milliner, haberdasher or draper), and ensure that the sanctity of the drawing room was preserved. However, ladies retained their bonnets and shawls, presumably an indication that the visit was only to be for a short interlude.
“Never take favourite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a morning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at the sight of strangers, or, being of too friendly a disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady's gown, or jumping on the sofas and easy chairs... Besides, many persons have a constitutional antipathy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the sitting- rooms...
Neither is it well for a mother to take young children with her when she pays morning visits; their presence, unless they are unusually well trained, can only be productive of anxiety to both yourself and your hostess. She, while striving to amuse them, or to appear interested in them, is secretly anxious for the fate of her album, or the ornaments on her étagère, while the mother is trembling lest her children should say or do something objectionable.”
These admonitions will be familiar to the 21st-century visitor. Dogs can be very divisive, and you should never assume that they will be welcome in your host’s home – always ask first and be willing to shut them in another room or leave them in the car.
Our Victorian ancestors are famous for their “children should be seen and not heard” reprimands, and it would be a brave mother who dared to take young children into a stranger’s house. Victorian drawing rooms were certainly not childproofed, and were laden with child hazards, such as delicate ornament, porcelain, glass vases and knick-knacks. Parents today will relate to the anxiety of the visiting mother and, while we are much more accepting of the presence of children than the Victorians, we all know the potential damage they can do. If you are bringing your children on a visit, ensure that they come well-equipped with their own toys and will be capable of entertaining themselves.
“If you call on a person who is ‘engaged’ or ‘not at home’, leave your card. If there are several persons you desire to see, leave a card for each, or desire a servant to present your compliments to them severally. All visits should be returned, personally or by card, just as one should speak when spoken to, or answer a respectful letter.
When you are going abroad intending to be absent for some time, you enclose your card in an envelope, having, first, written T. T. L. [to take leave], or P. P. C. [pour prendre conge] upon it …and direct it outside to the per son for whom it is intended. In taking leave of a family, you send as many cards as you would if you were paying an ordinary visit.
Should there be daughters or sisters residing with the lady upon whom you call, you may turn down a corner of your card, to signify that the visit is paid to all. It is in better taste, however, to leave cards for each.
Visiting cards should be engraved or handsomely written. A gentleman s card should be of medium size, unglazed, ungilt, and perfectly plain. A lady’s card may be larger and finer and should be carried in a card-case.”
Visiting cards were de rigueur. They were tangible evidence that a visit had been paid, and a notification of social obligation (the compliment would need to be returned). They were generally left on a large tray, which was placed prominently on a hall table. Distinguished visitors’ cards inevitably found their way to the top of the pile, as they advertised the householder’s social credentials. The ceremonial leaving of visiting cards was evidence that the conventional social gesture had been made, a demonstration of probity and correct form. They also served the practical function of apprising acquaintances of one’s presence in town or the country or notifying them of an impending absence.
Today, while we may be used to ‘pop-ins’ from neighbours or close friends, the visiting ritual has been completely transformed. In general, visitors to our homes are making what the Victorians would define as “visits of friendship”. We ask people to our homes – for coffee, drinks, dinner, overnight stays etc. and these invitations are usually extended with a genuine desire to socialise and involve planning and preparation. The other functions of the Victorian visit – duty, congratulations and condolence – have been taken out of our domestic sphere and are dealt with through alternative means of communication.
Quotations are taken from:
How to Behave: A Pocket Manual of Etiquette and Guide to Correct Personal Habits, by Samuel Wells, 1865
Routledge’s Manual of Etiquette by George Routledge, 1860
The long weekend of 6–8 May 2023 is the occasion on which the nation celebrates the coronation of His Majesty King Charles III. This very special occasion will be a unique event for most of us, who have not seen a coronation in our lifetime – Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation was 70 years ago – and much of the country will be marking it in some way. There is a plethora of possibilities, from traditional street parties, and the ‘Big Lunch’, to private garden parties and barbecues.
In 1953 many families invested in televisions for the first time to witness a great moment in Britain’s history, and neighbours gathered together in each other’s houses to share access to televisions and feel part of the momentous occasion.
In 2023 there will be hours of spectacular television coverage in full colour, deploying the commentary and expertise of a range of experts and utilising multiple locations to create a panoramic and comprehensive view of the day’s events.
If you are involved in a street party, big lunch or garden event on the day of the actual coronation (6 May) you may well want to give guests access to a big outdoor tv screen, or to hire a mobile big screen and projector to ensure that everybody can witness this historic occasion.
Dating back to post-World War I ‘peace parties’, which were held in 1919, street parties have always held a special place in British hearts. They have marked national milestones, such as VE and VJ day, the Coronation, Royal weddings and Royal anniversaries.
Their defining characteristic is that they involve shutting off an entire street. This means planning ahead and obtaining permission from the local council, which may need to re-route traffic. Traffic cones and ‘Road Closed’ signs will be needed, which can be borrowed from local schools or the council. Or you can just block off the road with wheelie bins…
Once the road is closed, the event can take many forms. Traditionally, partygoers eat at long trestle tables, but a stand-up buffet may be a more practical alternative. Music and party games will break the ice and add to the conviviality. Alcohol can be served without a special licence (as long as it isn’t on sale) and remember it is imperative to have plenty of water and soft drinks available throughout the day.
This initiative from Cornwall’s Eden Project started in 2009 as an annual opportunity for neighbours to meet up, eat together and celebrate community. It will be a major national event 6-8 May (20 million people took part in The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee in June 2022). In many ways it shares the characteristics of the street party, but the venue is more flexible – it could, for example, be held on the local playing field, village green, or recreation ground. As the name implies, it involves a sit-down lunch; this is normally organised on a cooperative basis, with people contributing their own dishes (it’s a good idea to allocate sweet or savoury beforehand). In some instances, guests will simply be asked to bring their own lunch to the event – the main point is to enjoy getting to know your neighbours, not the food.
Many people will choose to celebrate the Coronation on a more intimate scale. Try channelling the Royal Family and planning your very own Garden Party (Buckingham Palace style). Ask guests to wear smart casual clothes and serve a refined British afternoon tea with cucumber sandwiches, scones and cakes.
Alternatively, you could simply hold a Coronation-themed barbecue or lunch for friends and family. Think about serving some special food; you could try the recipe for spinach, cheese and tarragon ‘Coronation quiche’, which has been shared by King Charles and Queen Camilla. Alternatively, you could revert to the spicy Royal favourite, Coronation chicken, which was invented in 1953, or baking some red, white and blue cupcakes – there are myriad suggestions for Coronation dishes online.
One prerequisite of a Coronation party is flags, streamers and bunting. You can opt for classic Union Jack British bunting, or you could elect to use a more subtle decoration, which blends a palette of red, white and blue. Larger Union Jacks can be used for dramatic impact, streamers and banners will add a festive feel and you can dole out hand-held Union Jacks for those who want to indulge in enthusiastic flag-waving. You can be sure that large decorative crowns (both as table centrepieces and on heads) will be a universal symbol.
Reinforce the Coronation theme with table decorations. This doesn’t need to be particularly expensive; since you will probably be looking for disposable table decorations in any case, take the trouble to buy some special Coronation-themed paper tablecloths and napkins, plates and cups, which will inevitably blend a red, white and blue colour scheme with union jacks, crowns and other patriotic paraphernalia.
Ensure that all the disposable materials you buy are fully recyclable (look out for FSC-certified), and – particularly if you are organising a larger party – invest in plenty of large rubbish bags and recruit some volunteers to make a thorough sweep of the street and eradicate all signs of rubbish at the end of the day – you do not want to wake up the next morning and find your shrubs and lawn strewn with Coronation detritus.
Children will enjoy waving flags and gorging on Royal themed puddings, but it’s also a good idea to introduce some Coronation-themed party games at big events or they’ll get bored. So, roll out some perennial favourites (such as sack races, egg and spoon races or tugs of war). Or, alternatively you can offer a couple of Coronation games such as pin the crown on the King or a competition to design the best crown. Fancy dress will always be a popular option – you could ask guests to dress up as their favourite British monarch.
This is Britain and we need to be prepared for all weather contingencies.
How about investing in (or borrowing) some inexpensive pop-up gazebos? Their sidewalls can be lowered or raised and even if the weather is clement they will be useful on the day as food or drink stands, where refreshments can be kept cool, or convenient
oases of shade and relaxation (especially for older residents). Remember to festoon the gazebos with festive bunting!
If you’re hosting your own garden party, a gazebo is also useful. Alternatively, plan ahead to take the event inside if the weather turns wet. This means clearing space and tidying up before the party begins.
As with all entertaining, Coronation events need lots of organising and will be greatly enhanced by showing consideration for everyone involved.
• Plan well ahead – big events will need an organising committee. List all the tasks involved and assign them to individuals who will take responsibility for them.
• Communicate with everyone involved. If you are planning a communal event, announce it well ahead. You can post about it on social media or local WhatsApp groups, and you can reinforce your message by putting up posters around the neighbourhood.
• Issue invitations to communal events – they don’t need to be expensive (a photocopied single sheet will do), but if invitations are posted through everyone’s door you know that everybody has been included, especially older residents who do not use social media. The invitations should be very clear about what is involved: start and end time, activities that will take place, timing of the meal, and any contributions needed.
• If you’re planning your own private party, give people plenty of notice, as there will be a lot of social events going on.
• If you are invited to a private Coronation party, make sure you RSVP as soon as possible. You may receive subsequent offers at this busy time of year, but once you have committed to an event you are obligated to attend – it’s very rude to cancel and take a better offer.
• If you are holding an event in your garden, warn the neighbours or, better still, invite them. If we’re lucky and the weather is warm, be conscious that voices and music carry at night, so be considerate about ending your party at a reasonable time. But remember that early May can still be quite chilly, so make sure you have contingency plans and can invite your friends inside once the temperature starts to drop.
• Clear up after your party. For big events you will need to enlist helpers well ahead of the date. But even if you’re hosting a private garden party, do make sure that you pick up all disposable tableware at the end of the day – if you leave plates, cups and napkins lying around, they might find their way into neighbours’ gardens.
While we may not have experienced intimidating behaviour ourselves, most of us will have observed it in our playgrounds and classrooms, where bullies repeatedly target, humiliate and harm victims who are smaller, younger and weaker. This is an all too familiar playground problem, often starting as physical aggression and then becoming refined into a more exquisite form of torture, involving spreading rumours, disrupting friendships and social exclusion. It is probable that this oppressive behaviour stems from deep-seated anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, which are not acknowledged but instead are masked by an aggressive, and sometimes ingeniously cruel, display of power. Children should always be encouraged to report bullying, whether they are experiencing it personally or witnessing it taking place, to teachers and parents. If it is not nipped in the bud, this pattern of behaviour can persist into adulthood.
Bullying can be a very real problem in the workplace. Workplace bullying can cover a range of behaviour: verbal abuse, intrusive questions, offensive or sexual remarks, jokes or innuendo-laden remarks made at an individual’s expense. Some bullying is a group phenomenon: a group of individuals bond together to isolate or freeze out a colleague. It can happen between colleagues or, most troubling of all, a boss can bully a junior.
It is a truly toxic situation when a person who holds a position of power and authority abuses their status to bully and demean the people who answer to them, causing maximum shame and humiliation. Frequently the bully asserts his/her dominance by indulging in disinhibited behaviour that we are taught from childhood to suppress – loss of temper, rage, anger, foul language. The assumption is that, because of the bully’s power and status “underlings” are put in a position where they must go along with this behaviour and accept it because they are powerless to do anything else.
Bullying bosses, when challenged, frequently fall back on the defence that they are merely demanding perfectionists, who are calling out the shortcomings in their team members, spurring on their juniors to harder work and better performance. They pride themselves on being ‘tough bosses’, who make huge demands and expect their team to rise to them, and wilfully ignore the stress and anxiety that they generate.
However, inspiring fear and dread is not a good way of motivating people or building a strong team. People work much more effectively if a sense of collaboration and cooperation is nurtured. Courtesy, accessibility and empathy are all qualities that will inspire loyalty and trust in team members, who are much more likely to go the extra mile for a boss they like and respect. Giving credit where credit is due builds confidence, while assaulting an individual’s self-esteem, and sometimes making a public spectacle of it, will inevitably lead to severe stress and debilitation.
Unfortunate employees who are forced to deal with a bullying boss live in dread of becoming the next target and may make superhuman efforts to do the boss’s bidding as a way of protecting themselves, but in the long term this is unsustainable. Eventually team members will be ground down by their boss’s antics and crushed by the constant pressure – they may well leave, taking their expertise with them, or become whistle-blowers, who call out their boss, leading to his/her eventual downfall.
This entire process can take a long time to play out – it is a rare employee who will immediately seek redress for a bullying incident, and many people go through an agonising cycle of humiliation, self-doubt, despair and intimidation, before they grasp the nettle and confide in their colleagues or take their complaint to senior management, their union or human resources.
It is generally considered that behaviour is bullying if it is humiliating, offensive, intimidating, hostile or degrading and this damaging conduct needs to be called out and remedied wherever it is manifested. Bosses who are accused of bullying behaviour will inevitably defend themselves by asserting that their robust behaviour gets good results; they will probably deride their victim for being thin-skinned and over-sensitive, the “can’t you take a bit of banter?” defence. But their behaviour, especially if it is in public, will have been witnessed by many other people, who will be able to corroborate what has happened.
Once a situation has deteriorated to the point where evidence has been gathered, corroboration has been sought and formal complaints have been made, employers must act. They must acknowledge that they are held responsible for the wellbeing of their employees, and they should never condone overtly aggressive or humiliating behaviour in the belief that ‘robust’ business relationships get results.
If a bully is called out and confronted with the distress they have caused, the time has come to confront the consequence of their actions. Abuse should be acknowledged, and the perpetrator must take full responsibility.
Debrett’s first published Correct Form in 1976; it has been in print ever since and repeatedly revised and updated. It forms a major part of our Handbook, and we are pleased to announce that we are bringing out a new, revised ‘Coronation’ edition in April 2023.
An earlier edition of Correct Form promises ‘An Inclusive Guide to Everything from Drafting Wedding Invitations to Addressing an Archbishop’. That seemingly straightforward strapline speaks volumes. Society has changed so much over the last fifty years and the old certainties and assumptions have been steadily eroded. Our latest edition discusses the correct form for situations that would have been quite unthinkable in 1976: the possibility that an Archbishop of Canterbury might be a woman; and the fact that our advice on wedding invitations has now been expanded to include same-sex marriages, civil partnerships and a whole host of other non-conventional family set-ups.
Earlier editions of Correct Form reflect a world of social certainty. Society was hierarchical and this was reflected in strict notions of the ‘correct’ way of acknowledging every person’s status, from addressing a letter and making an introduction, to drawing up a seating plan or delivering a speech. It was essential to adhere to these social niceties and finely graduated distinctions and any deviation from these meticulously chronicled practices was considered disrespectful and discourteous.
Even so, there was an acknowledgment that certain modes of address and formal phrases were becoming obsolete in the rapidly changing world of 1970s Britain. For example, early editors of Correct Form note that ending a letter to a duke with the phrase “I have the honour to be, My Lord Duke, Your Grace’s obedient servant” was a formal style that was becoming increasingly less common, although they point out that earlier generations had deployed a much more elaborate dance of obeisance, littering their letters with phrases such as “most devoted and most obedient”, “most humble and devoted” and so on. Even the recommended formal sign-off when writing to an untitled man of “I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient servant” sound impossibly unctuous to 21st-century ears.
Early editions of Correct Form emanate from a world where women were still defined by their marital status. They state categorically that “It is incorrect for a widow to be addressed by her own forename or initials, as this implies that her marriage was dissolved” adding darkly that “This mistake is frequently made”. Only divorced ladies were recommended to use their forenames, which clearly marked them out. ‘Ms’ was only just being introduced as an alternative, and it was firmly insisted that unmarried ladies should be addressed as “Miss”.
Yet society was about to undergo a seismic change. Women, already well established in the legal, academic and medical professions, were making a growing impact in local and national politics (Margaret Thatcher became prime minister in 1979, just three years after the first edition of Correct Form), as well as the police, diplomatic service and, eventually the Church and Armed Forces. The tendency, however, was always to default to male forms of address when giving examples of the correct forms of address, reflecting contemporary attitudes.
Our new edition places correct form firmly in the 21st century. While we appreciate that there are long-established formalities and conventions, which may be usefully deployed in certain traditional situations, we also understand that these forms of address have very little to do with most people’s lives and sound impossibly archaic in an age of texting and social media. We have chosen to retain our customary formal advice, but always to give a pragmatic, contemporary alternative. We have, for example, acknowledged throughout the new edition, that most married women these days do not want to be named as an appendage of their husband, and are determined to retain their own forename, continue to use their maiden name, or create a new double-barrelled surname.
We have also striven to reflect the new world of work, where women are now holding key roles that in the 1970s would still have been seen as a masculine preserve (Brigadier, Bishop, Chief Constable, Home Secretary). We hope that, by exemplifying how women in these roles should be addressed professionally, we are beginning to redress the imbalance.
Finally, our new edition introduces, or elaborates upon, means of communication that were undreamt of in the 1970s. The first editions of Correct Form reside in a world of visiting cards, At Home cards, engraved invitations and handwritten letters on personal stationery. Births, marriages and deaths were announced in the broadsheets; presumably the telephone was a useful short cut, though its use is never mentioned in the pages of the book. Surely, our predecessors can scarcely have dreamt of the world of faxes (the first innovation), emails, texts and social media. In this respect, the transformations of the last fifty years have been extraordinary, allowing us to communicate instantaneously in a wide variety of ways, to cut through the stately old formalities, and circumvent the cumbersome role of conventional correspondence.
Of course, these time-honoured means of communication have not gone away, and we have had to think carefully about their continued importance – most notably on big occasions, such as weddings, births or formal parties. People will continue to enjoy the arrival of the stiff formal card with its engraved copperplate script, or the handwritten thank-you letter sent on the finest quality stationery, and we have therefore continued to give advice about all forms of written communication. But, for a 21st-century audience, we have also turned our attention to more everyday messages and have evolved some simple and practical advice about email and texting etiquette, which we hope will prove both useful and contemporary.
Revising the Handbook for the coronation year of 2023 has been a fascinating exercise, which has vividly demonstrated the speed with which society changes. Egalitarian attitudes and a refusal to accept traditional gender stereotypes, assisted by rapid innovations in media and technology, are forging a new informality. But we are also reminded that we British, no matter how progressive our demeanour, are stalwart guardians of our own history and remain consistently respectful of well-documented traditions and ancient rituals.
As part of a new series, the team at Debrett's Education have been speaking to the heads of UK independent schools about their own experiences in education.
This week we meet Tom O'Sullivan, head of Cheltenham College Prep School, who attended Pate's Grammar and Durham University.
In 1902, as the country got ready to celebrate the coronation of Edward VII after Queen Victoria’s long reign, Debrett’s published a Dictionary of the Coronation.
As we once again prepare for a coronation after an unprecedentedly long reign, we have been browsing through this treasury of arcane protocol, little-known facts, royal peculiarities and medieval pomp. We have also been discovering how much participants in the Coronation gained for their services and how eagerly these roles were pursued and secured. Well over a century later, we are promised a much more modern, streamlined event, which will be a reflection of 21st-century Britain and the many changes society has undergone. So, here’s a short compilation of just some of the roles that have been lost and rituals that have been retained:
The history of coronations provides a rich insight into a bygone era of pageantry and feudalism, patronage and service. Many roles are now merely obsolete relics of a distant history, as these few examples testify:
• The Champion of England
An office which is the most perfect relic of feudalism. Established in England by William the Conqueror immediately after the Battle of Hastings, it was first conferred upon Robert de Marmion, Lord of Fontenoy in Normandy.
The Champion was entitled to claim, on the coronation day, one of the King’s great coursers [a swift and strong horse], with a saddle, harness and trappings of cloth of gold, and one of the best suits of armour (all of which he claimed as fees, along with the gold cup from which the King drank to him). Thus mounted and furnished and accompanied by the High Constable and Marshal of England and the Royal Herald, he rode into the hall to the place where the King sat at dinner and there, after three proclamations of the trumpet, said words to the effect that anyone who denied that the King was lawfully entitled to the throne ‘lies like a false traitor’ and threw down his gauntlet. This part of the coronation ceremony was dispensed with at Queen Victoria’s coronation ceremony.
• The Chief Butler
A very ancient dignity. Of the many reasons for this post was the liability of the Sovereign to be poisoned; it was the Chief Butler’s responsibility to make sure this did not happen. In the reign of William the Conqueror, the post was held by William D’Albini and it is now a hereditary right of the Duke of Norfolk, as Earl of Arundel (the Arundels being descended from a sister of the last male Albini). The fees are now commuted to a gold basin and ewer. They used to include all the vessels and wine below the bar on the day of the coronation, but this practice was stopped in 1399 and was disallowed at the coronation of Henry IV. The role of Chief Butler has not been part of the ceremony since the coronation of Queen Victoria.
• The Herb Strewer
The Coronation office depends on the pleasure of the Sovereign and no petition for the privilege was made to the Court of Claims for this position from the time of George IV, when Miss Anne Fellows took on the role, until the Coronation of Queen Victoria, when Miss Beatrice Fellows, as the senior unmarried female of her family, petitioned the court. The claim was declined on that occasion and has not been revived since. To this day, the Fellows claim this role for the senior unmarried female in the family. The primary function of the Herb Strewer was to scatter herbs and sweet-smelling flowers to mask less pleasant odours. The dress of the Herb Strewer at the coronation of George IV is described as of white satin, with a scarlet robe, and a wreath of flowers on the head. Her six assistants also wore white and had wreaths on their heads as well as garlands of flowers across their bodies, passing from their left shoulder and under their right arm.
The claim of the Cinque Ports, a historic group of coastal towns in southeast England to send representatives to the Coronation, and for sixteen of their Barons, clad in scarlet satin doublets, to hold a canopy over the King, and sixteen more another one over the Queen, receiving the canopy, bells, and staves as their fees, is of ancient origin. The privilege is supposed to have been granted in recognition of services rendered by the Navy of the Ports to the early kings. The Debrett’s Dictionary of the Coronation explains that, at the coronation of Edward VII the Court of Claims ruled that if His Majesty decided that canopies were to be used the Barons of the Cinque Ports should carry them, and The King eventually invited eighteen representatives of these Ports to take part in the ceremony: the towns of Dover, Hastings, Sandwich, New Romney, Hythe, Rye, Winchelsea, Deal, Folkestone, Faversham, Lydd, Margate, Ramsgate, and Tenterden each sent a baron.
A petition sent by the barons of the cinque ports prior to the coronation of Charles I in 1626, demonstrates the long history of this privilege. They
“Humbly beseecheth your majestie grace would be pleased to afford them your gracious assistance, and be a meanes that they maie enjoy att this his majesties coronacion, and be admitted to performe that service which of auncient tyme hath beene done by their predecessors, and that letteres or summons maie be sent accordingly.”
The Coronation Claims office has announced that the barons of the Cinque Ports will once again play important historic ceremonial roles in the Coronation of Their Majesties The King and The Queen Consort on 6 May 2023.
The rite of anointing the Kings of England is of very ancient standing, the first recorded instance being that of Egforth of Mercia, in the year 785. The sacred oil, we are told by Dean Stanley [the Dean of Westminster from 1864–81], was “believed to convey to the Sovereign a spiritual jurisdiction and inalienable sanctity”. The oil that was used to anoint the Stuart Kings was a compound oil called chrisma, or “cream”. James II paid his apothecary £200 for the “cream” that was compounded for his coronation.
It has been announced that, in a special ceremony at The Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the oil that will be used to anoint King Charles III has been consecrated by the Patriarch of Jerusalem, His Beatitude Patriarch Theophilos III, and the Anglican Archbishop in Jerusalem, Olives, at the Monastery of Mary Magdalene and the Monastery of the Ascension. The oil has been perfumed with essential oils – sesame, rose, jasmine, cinnamon, neroli, benzoin and amber – as well as orange blossom.
The office of composer to the Chapel Royal was founded by Queen Mary in 1699, when Dr Blow, organist to Westminster Abbey, was appointed to it, at a salary of £40 per annum… The organ had been claimed by the organist as his perquisite during the reign of the last two Georges; in 1838 an organ was especially built for the occasion, and to save it from being claimed by the organist it was placed in the nave. But the nave belonged to the Dean and chapter, and they pounced upon it. Finally, it was redeemed by the Lord Steward for £500. It was said, however, that Sir George Smart, the organist at the Chapel Royal, compensated himself in other ways –by placing a number of “dummies” in the band who paid £50 apiece to hold a violin, on which they could not play a note to save their lives. This was perhaps one reason why at the coronation of Queen Victoria the number of supposed performers in the orchestra was more than double that at the coronation of William IV.
At the coronation of George I, the King could not to speak English, and his ministers, spiritual or temporal, could not speak German, so the ceremonies had to be explained to his Majesty in such Latin as those about him could command. This necessarily caused some interruptions in the service, and gave rise to the popular jest that much bad language had passed between the King and his ministers on the day of the coronation.
Image, top: Herb-strewing from the coronation procession of James II of England and Queen Mary of Modena, 23 April 1685
