The Sovereign’s Crown and the Southern Cross

The King & Queen in Sydney (NSW Gov, CC BY 4.0). The King’s mouth is unfortunately hanging open in this shot, which combined with the opaque glasses makes for a bit of a Hubert Farnsworth look.

The King & Queen have just spent the past nine days on a tour of Australia and Samoa. Bizarrely, the Palace’s press release called this an “Autumn Tour” even though in the destination countries it was spring. The tour was originally supposed to have included New Zealand as well, but His Majesty’s cancer diagnosis earlier this year forced the itinerary to be severely reduced.

Charles wore three distinct metaphorical “hats” during the course of the tour: First as King of Australia conducting domestic business, second as King of Great Britain & Northern Ireland conducting a bilateral state visit, and third as Head of the Commonwealth presiding over the biennial Heads of Government Meeting.

Photographs of the sovereign couple at these events are unfortunately few and far between. Australian governments both federal and state lack official Flickr accounts with clear licensing indications as their British counterparts have, and the paltry few hosted on their websites are also of uncertain origin – at time of posting a handful have been accepted on Wikimedia Commons but these all look so suspiciously similar to those on Getty and Alamy that I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up getting deleted shortly afterwards. There seem to be no free-licence photographs of the state visit to Samoa at all. Number 10 and the FCDO both have albums from the CHOGM, but only one picture of the lot actually shows Charles and none at all show Camilla.

I do not know the full details of the travel arrangements, but what I can gather is that Their Majesties and a small entourage took a commercial flight from Heathrow to Singapore, whence they were picked up by the Royal Australian Air Force and taken to Sydney Kingsford Smith Airport in New South Wales.

The tour marked the first in-the-fabric appearance of the Australian royal banner of arms (known officially as “The King’s Flag for Australia”), which was seen flying from the cockpit window and then later from several road and watercraft. The Australian banner follows Canada’s example by reverting to showing the national arms undifferenced, in contrast to the practice followed during Elizabeth II’s reign of defacing the banner with her own personal cypher. The King approved the present version on 30th August.

The current coat of arms of Australia was formalised in 1912. The shield is a composite in “quarterly of six” format, representing the six constituent states of the federation. The states of South Australia and Western Australia did not yet have full coats of arms at the time but all had heraldic badges (which are also shown on their respective civil flags) so these were used instead. The whole is surrounded by a bordure ermine.

The whole federal armorial achievement is normally depicted with the crest on a torse hovering some distance above the shield – omitting helm, mantling or coronet – but the Imperial Crown appears as a charge on the badges of Victoria and Queensland, notably at different sizes.

As in Britain (though unlike Canada) the depiction of the crown in Australian royal symbols has changed from St Edward’s Crown to the Tudor Crown, though this has not yet entirely filtered through to all the state arms and flags themselves. I dimly remember – but can no longer find the proof – that the flag as approved on the government’s website in August still showed St Edward’s Crown, and that the graphic on Wikimedia Commons did likewise until photographs of the real flag caused an update.

The King at several points on the tour wore the sovereign’s badge of the Order of Australia along with a hefty line of other honours I will need time to identify. The Governor-General gave him honorary commissions at the top ranks of all three branches of the Australian armed forces. This is is a little perplexing from a legal perspective: One would have thought that the reigning monarch would hold these ranks substantively ex officio and would not need to be appointed to them by his own deputy.

The Queen is another story: For months now I have been looking out for signs of Camilla being granted the use of her own banner of arms – being the royal arms of the sovereign impaling those of her father Bruce Shand. This was finally seen to be the case during the Australian tour, flying from the bonnet of her car on a few occasions when she travelled without her husband. The videos did not show the flag long enough (and the stills tended to have it covered by the watermark) but from what little I can determine of the artistic subtleties of its design I reckon it is actually a printout of the vector file on the Commons. The car itself was a black Audi (I think a Q8) and the regular numberplates were obscured with plates bearing an image of the Tudor Crown. That image looks to have been taken from Wikimedia too, though I can’t find the exact image. The glaring problem here, of course, is that this banner shows Shand impaled by the British royal arms rather than the Australian, resulting in a mismatch with her husband. There is a burning irony that after all this time, the one occasion Camilla can be seen using a personalised banner of arms as Britain’s royal consort is the one occasion in which it was not appropriate to do so.

This unfortunately seems to be far for the course with royal tours – with the notable exception of Canada (probably because that country has its own heraldic authority), banners of royal arms in the other Commonwealth Realms seem to only be made for the reigning sovereign himself, with the rest of the royal family defaulting to their British blazons instead of coming up with a local variant. This may be marginally more convenient from a logistical and fiscal perspective, but it can be constitutionally misleading as it implies that they are representing a foreign state instead of that country’s own crown. If creating a personal one for each prince or princess is too onerous, it at least would be relatively easy to create a generic ermine-bordered version which they could all use when in the country. Admittedly that might not work in Australia where the sovereign’s own shield and banner have an ermine bordure already. For the royal wives, it might even make more sense to use banners of their paternal arms unimpaled so that they needn’t change based on location at all.

During the visit, His Majesty attended a service at St Thomas’s Anglican Church in North Sydney, made addresses to both the state Parliament of New South Wales and the national Parliament of Australia (sadly not from the throne in either case) and undertook a review of the fleet. God Save The King was played by a brass band while Charles inspected the troops and also by a solo amateur flautist during his walkabout but I can’t find any clip of it actually being sung at any point, in contrast to Advance Australia Fair which was sung by a children’s choir at Parliament House. That the monarch made no remark about his late friend Barry Humphries (a.k.a Dame Edna Everage) was also a little surprising.

When the royal party landed in Samoa they switched back to their British identities and the British royal banner was flown from the cockpit window alongside the Samoan flag, although the aeroplane itself was still very obviously branded as Australian.

While in Samoa Charles was invested with two honorific titles – Tui Taumeasina (King of Taumeasina) and Toa’iga o Tumua (Paramount Chief). The Queen was seen using a hand-fan with her royal cypher printed on it, which was given to her by Stewart Parvin in February. Both switched for much of the visit to bespoke white outfits in the local style.

Charles attended the CHOGM in his capacity as Head of the Commonwealth. Elizabeth II adopted a personal flag to represent herself in this capacity with no reference to any particular country. Her son so far appears not to have done so, which is a pity.

The official royal YouTube channel has uploaded some videos from these events. Not only are they continuing to use the outline of the British royal arms as the channel logo, they have also taken to including a new drawing of the arms in the thumbnails of individual videos. This, again, is a little problematic when the contents of the videos relate to other realms. I am left to wonder what recognisable symbol could be used here to avoid this problem. The livery badge of the House of Windsor might work, but even that technically has the British banner of arms included in it. The only solution that would truly work is, I suppose the CIIIR cypher on its own, without even a crown above it. Indeed, that could work for other family members’ flags and banners too.

New Government Arms

The latest development in a long-running story, yesterday the Cabinet Office announced the rollout of a new rendering of the British royal arms, based on an illustration by Timothy Noad, for use by HM Government, including in all departmental logos on the website. It will presumably also appear in the letterheads of governmental paper publications, but of course the appearance of those example will be less instantaneous.

The most obvious, and important, change is of course the change from St Edward’s Crown to the Tudor Crown, about which I have written before. The crown is also now depicted much larger relative to the other elements. The lion and unicorn supporters have also been redrawn in a much more chunky, angular style than in the old version.

The escutcheon is restored to a more traditional heater shield shape, poking out in front of the Garter circlet, whereas the old depiction had it as a fully-enclosed cartouche. The circlet itself has been enlarged and the motto typed in a serif font as well as having the colours inverted – it now matches the shield, supporters and crown by having the field depicted in negative while the charges and outlines are positive. The fleur-de-list at the end of the strap is gone.The motto scroll is now much flatter, but anomalously retains the old font and colour scheme.

Comparing the two overall, I would say that the new version looks better as an example of heraldic art due to the shield itself no longer being denied its due prominence, but the old version may work better as a corporate logo due to its stronger outline, especially when shrunk for low resolutions.

In other heraldic news, The Heraldry Society recently released a digital upload of 244 pages from Volume 6 of The Coat of Arms, and I have discovered the Fellowship of the White Shield, whose blog currently has nine articles on the subject. I will not be short of reading material in the foreseeable future.

Extracting the Anthem

Many times I have written about the travails involved in finding free-licence images for Wikimedia Commons, but this time it is sound files that concern me.

When Charles III acceded to the throne two years ago, the royal anthem of the Commonwealth Realms changed from “God Save the Queen” to “God Save the King”, having been in the feminine form for longer than the internet had existed. Extant recordings of the masculine form were hard to find, and those that did exist were inevitably very old.

Lacking the budget to form my own choir or hire a recording studio, I went looking for recordings of the song in the place it seemed most likely to find them – videos of His Majesty’s outdoor accession proclamations.

Of the dozens (perhaps hundreds) of these which actually took place, I managed to find just four for which either the venue host or a charitable bystander had uploaded the video to YouTube under Creative Commons. I firstly copied these videos themselves to Wikimedia Commons, then set about extracting the audio of people singing. Both of these involved a bit of a learning curve and the use of some third-party tools.

The Royal Exchange in the City of London (by Alison Pope)

This is the most high-profile of the four, and the one with the best sound quality. The band are playing (I think) Sir Henry Wood’s arrangement of the anthem (which is good because the composition itself is public domain) and the crowd are all in time. There is some noise due to wind, local dogs and the sliding of camera shutters.

Cornwall St Ives (by Cornishpastyman)

This version is sung a cappella. Most of the crowd have picked up by the third syllable and stay remarkably in time for the rest, though not necessarily in tune – one in particular says “noble” and “victorious” in a way that sounds almost like a dog yawning.

Charnwood (by Crep171166)

Music is provided by a lone trumpeter. Almost nobody picks up singing until the second line, and even then they all sound a bit low on energy.

Chatteris (by Chatteris Watch)

Again a lone brass-player and really only one voice is heard singing, picking up midway through the first line.

None of these are studio quality, of course, and none go beyond the first verse. Still, it’s a start.

UPDATE (August 2025)

The YouTuber Gobernador-Heneral has put together a 17-minute compilation of public performances of the anthem in the mourning period.

Late-Summer Heraldic News

In the past fortnight there have been a handful of significant developments in the world of British heraldry.

Firstly, on 15th August the College of Arms published the 76th edition of its newsletter. Much of the text deals with topics already explained (such as the coronation roll and the year’s garter appointments) but there were some new details, such as the grant of arms to the University for the Creative Arts, which will be another addition to my list on Wikipedia.

Secondly, there are two long-form videos on YouTube of armorial interest: On August 20th a video by the White House Historical Association about the making of the Presidential Seal and on August 23rd by American Ancestors interviewing the York Herald Peter O’Donoghue. These videos speak for themselves so I will not elaborate them.

Thirdly, and of most interest, is a Tweet from 24th August by Alastair Bruce. It includes three photographs from inside the High Kirk of Edinburgh, showing the stallplate and banner of Queen Camilla. There is not much of surprise about the composition of the arms – they show the arms of King Charles impaling the arms of Bruce Shand – but it is reassuring to have confirmation that both shield and banner exist in formal usage, given the persistent uncertainties of Her Majesty’s status in England.

The most intriguing of the three photographs is the one which shows Camilla’s stallplate accompanied by five other royal ones: In the left column are Prince William, Earl of Strathearn (middle) and Olav V, King of Norway (bottom). In the right column are Queen Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (top) the Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (middle) and the Prince Albert, Duke of York (bottom). The fact that these six achievements are put together like this is itself a little confusing since some of those members of the order had overlapping tenures so could not have occupied the same stall. Also noteworthy is the way in which the artistic styles have changed over the years:

  • The Prince Albert, (later King George VI) was appointed to the order by his father in 1923 and presumably this is what it says on the scroll underneath (although it’s not legible in the photograph). He uses the royal arms differenced by a label of three points argent the centre bearing an anchor Azure. He has the coronet of a child of the sovereign sitting on top of a forward-facing golden helmet, and the coronet itself is topped by the lion crest, gorged at the neck by another label of three points argent – although that one doesn’t have the anchor in the middle. While that could be dismissed as an omission by the painter (perhaps too small to draw properly) it is unmissable that this stallplate clearly uses the English version of the royal arms and crest as well as referring to the prince by his England-based title (Duke of York) instead of his Scottish-based one (Earl of Inverness).
  • Queen Elizabeth was appointed by her husband in 1937. Her stallplate shows his arms impaling those of Claude Bowes-Lyon. Again the English arrangement of the royal arms is used, especially confusing as Elizabeth was herself of Scottish ancestry. The shield is topped by the royal crown. I can’t work out if it is the English or Scottish version of the crown shown, given the vagaries of the art style.
  • The Prince Philip was appointed by his wife in 1952. His stallplate shows his arms as granted in 1949. He used the same coronet as his sons and uncles-in-law, but here it is depicted beneath the helm rather than atop it as in the other examples. Philip apparently used the same arms in every heraldic jurisdiction, as well as the same title. His personal motto “God Is My Help” appears on a scroll above the crest, as is the Scottish tradition.
  • Prince William was appointed by his grandmother in 2012. Earl of Strathearn was his secondary peerage, his primary being Duke of Cambridge. His arms are in the Scottish arrangement. He uses the coronet of a son of the heir apparent on top of a front-facing grey helmet with gold bars, itself topped by the Scottish royal crest. Both crest and shield are differenced by his label of three points Argent, the centre bearing an escallop Gules. The Scottish motto “In Defens” flies over the crest. The tinctures used for this stallplate look a little off, with the Or in particular being shown as a much darker shade of yellow than that used for all the others.
  • Queen Camilla was appointed by her husband in 2023. Her shield uses the Scottish arrangement of the arms. The royal crown is drawn rather differently to that used by her grandmother-in-law, but it’s still just as unclear which one it is supposed to be.
  • Olav V, the only foreign member here, was appointed by his first cousin one removed in 1962. Crests are not a traditional feature of Norwegian heraldry, but the royal crown of Norway is placed atop a forward-facing grey helm with gold bars. The mantling is Gules doubled Or whereas the British princes here use Or doubled Ermine. Domestic depictions of the Norwegian arms tend to omit helm and mantling altogether or use a pavillion Purpure doubled ermine.

Don’t They Look Younger Now?

Fresh from attending special sittings of the States of Jersey and the States of Deliberation in Guernsey, today Their Majesties returned to Westminster for the opening of the first session of the fifty-ninth Parliament of the United Kingdom.

This was the first King’s Speech under a Labour government since 1950. There is some symmetry, perhaps, between Charles III’s second speech and George VI’s second-to-last.

This is the only free-licence photograph of the event so far.

While the content of the speech was very lengthy and stood in radical contrast to the one delivered for Sunak’s government in November, in ceremonial terms there was very little change. The King’s getup was identical to that worn last time. The Queen’s changed a little – instead of her coronation gown, she has reverted to the style of dress she wore in 2019 and earlier. Reeta Chakrabarti, presenting the BBC’s coverage, described it as “very fine, off-white silk crepe embroidered by Fiona Claire”. She has not taken to wearing a sash again, but the star of the Order of the Garter appears around her left hip. This was also, incidentally, her 77th birthday.

Shabana Mahmood appeared as Lord Chancellor. Being a barrister, she wore the full-bottomed wig. This is the first time a woman has performed this role at a state opening, for Liz Truss’s brief tenure in the role did not include one. Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, can be seen for the first time wearing the collar of the Royal Victorian Order.

The most striking visual difference was in the change of pages – last time King Charles’ train was carried by Nicholas Barclay, Ralph Tollemache, Charles van Cutsem and Lord Oliver Cholmondeley (three of whom also appeared at the coronation). This time Tollemache returned but the other three were replaced by William Sackville, Alfred Wellesley and Guy Tryon. I don’t know any biographical detail about them beyond what I can guess from their surnames but they all appeared to be several years younger than the boys whom they replaced. Queen Camilla continued to use William Keswick and Arthur Elliott as before. As at last year’s ceremony Her Majesty’s two pages held her robe in the middle rather than at the end so that the end still dragged along the carpet, whereas His Majesty’s four pages kept the whole garment elevated (despite it being longer than his wife’s).

Some other things of note – as is custom after the first state opening of a new parliament, the lower house appointed three temporary deputy speakers. The senior of these is Sir Edward Leigh. I don’t think a Father of the House has ever been appointed as a deputy speaker before. These three will hold office for the brief period until new deputies are elected. All three of the deputy speakers sitting before dissolution have now left the house (one against his will), which was last the case in 1997. There will thus be no continuity except for Sir Lindsay Hoyle himself. Also today the first life peerages of Sir Keir Starmer’s premiership were patented – Lord Vallance of Balham and Lady Smith of Malvern. It appears that the ministerial appointments will be taking priority over the dissolution honours after all.

EXTERNAL LINKS

 

Sightings in the Channel

A few months ago I noted that, during the illness of her husband, Queen Camilla had been carrying out royal engagements solo, and had been flying the generic ermine-bordered version of the royal banner of arms.

The King has since recovered at least enough to be allowed out, and today Their Majesties jointly visit the Bailiwick of Jersey – a crown dependency in the English channel. Although a self-governing country with its own coat of arms, Jersey is part of the realm of the United Kingdom (i.e. it doesn’t count as a separate crown from the British one) and the sovereign’s heraldic identity is the same as in England.

In the disappointingly-limited series of photographs and videos I have found so far (none of them free-licence) I could not see much evidence of the sovereign’s banner flying over buildings, though I did see it on the roof of the Bentley State Limousine. What intrigued me was seeing (at 2m08s in the video above) some enthusiasts who had brought their own banner of Her Majesty’s arms and draped it over the railing. Based on the art style, I am dead certain it is a printout of this creation by Fry1989. The King actually reacts to it, though I can’t quite make out the words he says. The presumed owner of the flag says to him “I hope you enjoyed France last year.” in what I take to be a French accent.

EXTERNAL LINKS

Why stop when you’re on a roll?

Today marks the first anniversary of Their Majesties’ coronation, and there have been some public ceremonies to commemorate.

A few days ago the coronation roll was unveiled, serving as a written record of the proceedings that took place in the abbey (and some of the key events leading up to it) as well as listing all the prominent attendees. As this was the first British coronation to take place in the internet age, a digital version of the roll has also been set up, interlaced with video interviews from many of the core participants.

David Torrance has produced a lengthy briefing document for the House of Commons library about it.

While I’m here, there is another aspect of the coronation on which I’d like to look back – the status of the chairs on which Their Majesties sat during the ceremony. Some weeks before the event the antiquarian Dr Allan Barton put out a video called When Is a Chair a Throne? The answer, essentially, is that it must be on some form of dais to raise it above the floor.

At the business end of the abbey during the coronation there are five seats of special importance: Closest to the alter is St Edward’s Chair, the ancient wooden relic on which the monarch is actually crowned. A few metres behind, in the crossing, sit two “throne chairs”, in this case a pair of X-framed armchairs (almost looking like something a film director would use) originally made for George VI & Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon. Perpendicular to these are chairs of estate, these ones originally made for Elizabeth II and Philip Mountbatten, allowing the couple to sit behind their respective faldstools.

From what I can see in images of past coronations, both painted and photographic, a pattern is clear – the consort’s throne sits on three steps and the monarch’s throne on five, while the chairs of estate and St Edward’s chair sit directly on the floor. The 2023 coronation breaks the trend – the monarch’s X-framed chair has just one block underneath it while the consort’s counterpart has none at all (though it still has upholstered footstools in front). Does this mean that, technically, only one of these chairs counts as a throne?

IMAGE REFERENCES

Review: Charles III by Robert Hardman

Robert Hardman is no stranger to royal biography, having already penned quite a handful about Elizabeth II in the last decade or so of her life, including Queen of Our Times which came out in March 2022 as part of her Platinum Jubilee season and then in December of the same year was released again in a “commemorative edition” to update for the fact that she’d died. Now he moves into the present reign with a biography of her eldest son. I am a little confused about the title of this one as the British publication is called “Charles III: New King. New Court. The Inside Story”1 but on Google Books I can see that the United States version is called “The Making of a King: King Charles III and the Modern Monarchy”. I suspect the titles must be written this way for SEO purposes, or perhaps he just couldn’t decide which description he wanted so used all of them at once. It must be quite a fraught process to come up with a distinctive and meaningful name for a biography when you know that lots of other biographies will be documenting the same person and all competing to emerge in future history as the one definitive authority thereon. Most likely in the long run the general public (maybe academics too) will discard the pretentious subtitle and just remember it as “[AUTHOR] on [SUBJECT]” (e.g. “Jenkins on Churchill”) instead.

Hardman’s lengthy volume covers the first year of the New Carolean era. As one might expect, this period in royal history was particularly dominated by two big ceremonial events: His mother’s funeral and his own coronation. In the book, the funeral (as well as the period of Operation London Bridge leading up to it) takes up chapters 3, 4 and 5 while the planning and execution of the coronation takes 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14. That makes for nine chapters out of a total of eighteen across the whole book. The coronation section in particular is loaded with dense historical comparisons, detailing not just the crowning of Charles III but also quite a lot about those of George VI an Elizabeth II. A less charitable reader may accuse Hardman of padding here, though doubtless a lot of the innovations (and omissions) of 2023 cannot be fully appreciated without an understanding of what came before. Anyone buying this book at first printing will, doubtless, have already watched the public side of these events on television as they were happening, so the real value of these chapters is in reading the personal accounts of the people involved as to what went on behind the scenes, such as the aide who spontaneously hugged Princess Anne to console her in her grief, the brigadier getting a summons back to London while giving a speech at his daughter’s wedding in Corfu, the Duke of Norfolk getting his GCVO investiture in a rush so he could wear his sash in the procession or the royal pages being packed off into a side room with some video games. It is worth mentioning as well that Hardman directed a BBC documentary about the coronation and some other aspects of royal life that year which aired at Christmas and can be seen in some ways as the prelude to this book.

The other chapters are about the personalities of Charles & Camilla, the looming political challenges for the institution of the crown and some of the other projects in which the sovereign couple have engaged themselves (such as the Prince’s Trust/Charity/Foundation organisations which now all have to be renamed). The running thread is the process of establishing Charles’s approach to kingship and the need to assert, like most new incumbents whose predecessors served an unusually-long time, that he is his own person and is not obliged to become a clone of his forbear with whom the institution had become synonymous. Charles, of all our sovereigns, had the longest pre-accession life and a brings with him a much more complete (and publicly-known) individual persona, which makes this task all the more pressing. I was amused to read in Chapter 15 that an unnamed senior courtier refers to this as “Doctor Who syndrome”, showing that the habit of explaining the British constitution in terms of that franchise is one that runs all the way to the top. Given the relative perceptions of the new king and his late mother, I would especially see parallels to Colin Baker succeeding Peter Davidson, or Capaldi following Tennant and Smith.

Being acutely aware of some of the less-sympathetic perceptions that have swirled around the royal family as a whole in recent years, and around Charles in particular for many decades, Hardman occasionally includes explicit references to and arguments against ideas emanating from either that acclaimed Netflix drama or statements by the exiled Duke & Duchess of Sussex. At times it can feel as if he has a bit of an axe to grind. It’s probably redundant in any event, as the people likely to be credulous of the claims he’s refuting are not likely to picking up his book in the first place. I’d like to think this is merely a demonstration of Hardman’s passion for truth over sensationalism, but I can’t entirely trust him on that front given he writes for the Daily Mail after all.

These minor quibbles aside, New King New Court is an engaging and enlightening work which I would recommend to anyone interested in the topic area, though any customer (or library) sinking their money into the original edition now may wind up feeling short-changed he does another expanded version in the near future.

1The use of full stops means that the title mercifully evades what TV Tropes calls “Colon Cancer”, though I would have preferred commas.

The King’s Accession: Fast and Slow

The royal journalist Robert Hardman recently released his latest publication Charles III. New King. New Court. The Inside Story, which covers the end of the previous reign and the beginning of this one. Confusingly the same book seems to have been published under at least three titles: I’m also seeing it called Charles III: The Making of a Modern Monarch and The Making of a King: Charles III and the Modern Monarchy.

Reading the whole thing will obviously take some time, but I have managed to get through the first few pages, including those covering the decease of Elizabeth II. I was particularly fascinated by this passage:

…for visibility, Prince Charles was raised on his mother’s mantra that ‘I have to be seen to be believed’. Immediately after her death, it became clear that he would abide by this. Duties and conventions which might have been spread over many months at the start of the previous reign kicked in almost immediately. His first broadcast as monarch was recorded within twenty-four hours (Elizabeth II’s first broadcast, which was by radio, came ten and a half months into her reign). There would be visits to all the home nations within days. Court mourning, which continued for two and a half months after the state funeral of George VI, would end precisely one week after that of Elizabeth II. In less than three weeks, the King’s cypher, ‘CIIIR’ (Charles III Rex), was ready and released for immediate use on post boxes, military uniforms and official documents. It had taken more than five months before the design for ‘EIIR’ was approved in 1952. Investitures were up and running again within the month.

Of course, this is still slower than I would have liked, especially in heraldic, numismatic and vexillological matters: Sixteen months into the present reign, there is still uncertainty about the arms of The Queen and the Prince & Princess of Wales (especially in Scotland), as well as His Majesty’s personal banners in most other Commonwealth Realms. Though in almost all cases it is trivial to predict what they ought to look like, there are few in which I am certain that such designs have actually been granted. In addition, I am still yet to personally encounter any coinage or banknote bearing the current monarch’s face.

The slowness in updating online profiles is particularly baffling, given that it requires no physical material to be changed. This month there has been a hint of movement by His Majesty’s Revenue & Customs, whose Twitter icon now shows the Tudor crown, although the logo on the website itself still uses the St Edward version. The cover images for recent policy posts show both versions in use, suggesting that the filtering through of the new design is still ongoing.

UPDATE (19th February)

The crown logo is now updated across government websites.

The Crown old and new

Early in the new reign, the College of Arms announced a new royal cypher for Charles III. A noted difference between this one and his mother’s (other than the name, of course) was the depiction of the crown.

“St Edward’s” crown, favoured by Charles II to Victoria

Up to and including Victoria’s reign, depictions of the crown in heraldic drawings could be inconsistent. Edward VII ordered a standardised depiction with simple arches, which has come to be known as “the Tudor crown” due to its resemblance to one supposedly commissioned by Henry VII or VIII (and seen in royal portraits up to the Civil War). Elizabeth II later decided to change this to a version with depressed arches, better resembling St Edward’s crown which monarchs actually wear at coronations, and which seemed to be favoured in heraldic drawings before Victoria’s time. The timing of these decisions created a general misconception that the Tudor crown is always used when the monarch is male and St Edward’s when the monarch is female. Charles’s decision is likely to reinforce that belief.

The “Tudor” crown, as used by Edward VII-George VI

On the day of the coronation, the Canadian Heraldic Authority unveilved their own new version of the crown, intended to be more distinctly Canadian. The overall shape of the crown is still based on the Tudor version, but the jewels have been replaced by a wavy blue line, the uppermost cross by a snowflake (as already used in the Order of Canada) and the crosses around the rim by – of course – golden maple leaves. The removal of explicit Christian symbols may be due to the lack of an established church in Canada, though the omission of fleurs-de-lis is a little perplexing, given the constitutional importance of the country’s French heritage.

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d4/Crown_of_Canada_2023.svg/248px-Crown_of_Canada_2023.svg.png

The Canadian crown, as used by Charles III

It is not clear on exactly what timescale the new crown is to supersede the old. Four days after the coronation the government of Canada released a revised Canadian passport design. Though many radical changes have been made, the 1952 depiction of the crown retains pride of place. It is also not certain whether this will apply to the parliamentary maces. Currently the mace of the House of Commons is modeled on the Tudor crown while that of the Senate is modeled on St Edward’s. This is reflected in the heraldic badge of the parliament, showing both maces in saltire behind the shield. Funnily enough, British passports, though updating the introductory text to reference His Britannic Majesty instead of Hers, also still seem to have the prior crown on their covers.

The shield itself (fleurs and all) remains unchanged. It was announced on the same day that the arms of Canada may be flown as a banner to represent Charles and all future sovereigns. Previously Elizabeth II’s flag had the royal arms of Canada with her personal EIIR cypher imposed on a hurt in the middle. The removal of the cypher brings Canada closer in line with British heraldic practice whereby the reigning monarch bears the arms of dominion undifferenced, as well as avoiding the hassle of redesigning the flag for each subsequent reign. It remains to be seen whether the heraldic banners of other members of the royal family will also omit their cyphers and keep just the cadency labels.

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