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| How Queen's coronation cartoon provoked a royal outrage | How Queen's coronation cartoon provoked a royal outrage |
| (10 months later) | |
| The cartoon by David Low was called Morning After, and it appeared in the Guardian on 3 June 1953. Elizabeth had been queen for more than a year following the death of her father and it was the day after her coronation at Westminster Abbey. The next morning the skies fell in on the Guardian in the form of sack loads of hate mail that continued to pour in for days. | The cartoon by David Low was called Morning After, and it appeared in the Guardian on 3 June 1953. Elizabeth had been queen for more than a year following the death of her father and it was the day after her coronation at Westminster Abbey. The next morning the skies fell in on the Guardian in the form of sack loads of hate mail that continued to pour in for days. |
| "I hope I am using the correct idiom of the present day when I say that I consider the cartoon published in your issue today has reached a 'new low' in sheer bad taste," Margaret Mount wrote from Sowerby Bridge, West Yorkshire. | "I hope I am using the correct idiom of the present day when I say that I consider the cartoon published in your issue today has reached a 'new low' in sheer bad taste," Margaret Mount wrote from Sowerby Bridge, West Yorkshire. |
| William Bushell, from Heald Green, Greater Manchester, wrote: "Low has reached his nadir. After a day of heartfelt national rejoicing, of inspiration, and of dedication to a new reign, during which for the time being at any rate, Britain is on top of the world, he dares to produce this morning's sickly, sneering, tawdry cartoon." | William Bushell, from Heald Green, Greater Manchester, wrote: "Low has reached his nadir. After a day of heartfelt national rejoicing, of inspiration, and of dedication to a new reign, during which for the time being at any rate, Britain is on top of the world, he dares to produce this morning's sickly, sneering, tawdry cartoon." |
| The cartoon shows the aftermath of a jolly good party, but by today's standards it looks pretty tame. Some curiously middle aged babies crawl about in a litter of bunting, champagne bottles, toy soldiers and books of fairy princess stories. In the background an old woman in a pearl necklace and a pretty young woman lie sprawled, propped against one another, cross eyed with hangovers. | The cartoon shows the aftermath of a jolly good party, but by today's standards it looks pretty tame. Some curiously middle aged babies crawl about in a litter of bunting, champagne bottles, toy soldiers and books of fairy princess stories. In the background an old woman in a pearl necklace and a pretty young woman lie sprawled, propped against one another, cross eyed with hangovers. |
| One of the elderly babies looks up at the television in sudden alarm, to see a stern woman labelled "reality". He has yet to read the writing on the floor: "£100,000,000 spree". | One of the elderly babies looks up at the television in sudden alarm, to see a stern woman labelled "reality". He has yet to read the writing on the floor: "£100,000,000 spree". |
| The Guardian's official historian David Ayerst analysed the torrent of letters in his 1971 Biography of a Newspaper, and calculated that 575 were splutteringly outraged, and just 66 prepared to see the bitter joke. Ayerst suggests the editor of the day, A P Wadsworth – "fascinated by the British monarchy (though) his interest fell short of idolatory" – misjudged the timing, "a day or two later people might have been more ready to accept Low's feeling". | The Guardian's official historian David Ayerst analysed the torrent of letters in his 1971 Biography of a Newspaper, and calculated that 575 were splutteringly outraged, and just 66 prepared to see the bitter joke. Ayerst suggests the editor of the day, A P Wadsworth – "fascinated by the British monarchy (though) his interest fell short of idolatory" – misjudged the timing, "a day or two later people might have been more ready to accept Low's feeling". |
| The present letters editor, Nigel Willmott, has deep sympathy for his predecessor at a time when every handwritten letter had to be deciphered and transcribed. | The present letters editor, Nigel Willmott, has deep sympathy for his predecessor at a time when every handwritten letter had to be deciphered and transcribed. |
| "Usually moments of great national celebration are, for the Letters desk, days of great national indignation, given that they will almost certainly involve royalty, the military or both. It's not so much that our correspondents are avid republicans (although many are), as that they can't stand the flummery, obsequiousness and sheer barrage of uncritical heartiness which sees the brains of even the most hardened hacks turn to mush." | "Usually moments of great national celebration are, for the Letters desk, days of great national indignation, given that they will almost certainly involve royalty, the military or both. It's not so much that our correspondents are avid republicans (although many are), as that they can't stand the flummery, obsequiousness and sheer barrage of uncritical heartiness which sees the brains of even the most hardened hacks turn to mush." |
| Wilmott adds: "So far, in the run up to 60 glorious years, readers have been remarkably restrained. 'Following the extensive preview of this weekend's jubilee events, as a republican, I look forward to your equally extensive preview of the weekend's anti-jubilee events', hardly ranks as a cry for tumbrils in the street." | Wilmott adds: "So far, in the run up to 60 glorious years, readers have been remarkably restrained. 'Following the extensive preview of this weekend's jubilee events, as a republican, I look forward to your equally extensive preview of the weekend's anti-jubilee events', hardly ranks as a cry for tumbrils in the street." |
| Last year Steve Bell celebrated another royal landmark by drawing Prince Philip lounging around in a string vest while the Queen looks up from the Court Circular and remarks in astonishment "Fack me, bone 'ead! You're ninety!!" | Last year Steve Bell celebrated another royal landmark by drawing Prince Philip lounging around in a string vest while the Queen looks up from the Court Circular and remarks in astonishment "Fack me, bone 'ead! You're ninety!!" |
| He would never have got away with it in 1953, he admits. Until the 1960s cartoonists rarely portrayed the royals except as stock figures of monarchy, and only in the late 60s and 70s began to risk caricaturing them. | He would never have got away with it in 1953, he admits. Until the 1960s cartoonists rarely portrayed the royals except as stock figures of monarchy, and only in the late 60s and 70s began to risk caricaturing them. |
| "I'm working on it," Bell added with a notably evil chuckle, referring to his own diamond jubilee offering. "I haven't quite cracked it yet." | "I'm working on it," Bell added with a notably evil chuckle, referring to his own diamond jubilee offering. "I haven't quite cracked it yet." |
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