Uncle George Remembers II

“You would probably have thought my colleagues at the College of Arms in 1922 a pretty rum lot, and perhaps they were, but they were for the most part surprisingly kind and helpful. Some of them were perhaps a trifle advanced in years, though at least one was youngish, and a few of the older ones were inclined to be peppery and eccentric. But they nevertheless all seemed to welcome me, though with varying degrees of enthusiasm, as one of their fraternity.

The full complement of the College corporation was thirteen, consisting of three kings of arms, six heralds and four pursuivants. Each had his own title-name, and each had his own set of chambers in the College where he worked and had his being. Some of these were commodious, others rather cramped, the latter being for the pursuivants. Garter King of Arms, who was the premier herald and chairman of the corporation, was regarded as a superior kind of being and had a built-in house of hs own.

Garter derived his title from the Order of the Garter of which he and his predecessors had been masters of ceremonies and supervisors of heraldry since the foundation of the Office by King Henry  in 1415. In 1922 Sir Henry Burke, of whom I have already spoken, was Garter. He was 68.

The next herald in seniority and precedence was Clarenceux King of Arms, whose cognomen came somewhat uncertainly from the past but probably originated from the 14th century Clarence, a great semi-royal domain or “honour” of the Earls of Clare. In 1922 Clarenceux (pronounced Clarencer) was Charles Athill, aged 69, school-masterly and of no great distinction. Though he was usually amiable, he was sometimes crotchety and impatient when speaking to people of little consequence like myself.

Norroy was the junior of the three kings. His appellation, like Garter’s, also had a fifteenth century origin, and meant simply King of the North, in respect of his area of heraldic jurisdiction in England which was north of the river Trent. At the time of my arrival Norroy was William Alexander Lindsay, a Scot of ancient and noble lineage whose mother was a Howard. In 1922 he was 76, rheumy and testy, and though seen at times to smile bleakly, was customarily not on speaking terms with several of his colleagues, preferring to communicate with them only by written notes. In fairness to him, however, and to the others there not unlike him in those respects, I should perhaps point out that there was at that time no central heating in the College and that it was a very cold and draughty place where woolly scarves and overcoats were often worn indoors.

The six heralds in ordinary, thus called to distinguish them from heralds extraordinary who are “extras” and not members of the College corporation, were called Somerset, Richmond, Windsor, York, Chester and Lancaster, names derived from ancient royal titles. Of one of these, Somerset, I have something more to say because he was a “character”; and of two others, Richmond and Windsor, I will also speak because they later each became Garter King of Arms. The remainder I do not remember very much about.

Somerset at the time was a white-haired-and-bearded herald called Everard Green who had been at the College for over 30 years. He was 78 years old and a noted antiquarian Unlike some of his colleagues, he was full go good humour and kindliness. He was also the idol of the old ladies of South Kensington, a breed of womanhood which I believe is now extinct but which used to be a distinct species inhabiting hotels and dwelling-houses west of the Victoria and Albert Museum. He used to invite them to what were known as “Tabard Teas” in his chambers at the College, and at these happy gatherings would put on his glorious herald’s tabard of blue and red satin encrusted with gold embroidery, to the accompaniment, it was said, of cries of delight and admiration from the ladies. He died in 1926, when I was appointed to succeed him in his name of Somerset and in his chambers of happy memories, not to mention his herald’s tabard which I wore on State occasions for many years thereafter. I sometimes looked but could never find a tea-stain on it.

Richmond Herald was Gerald Wollaston, a lawyer and a scholar who became Garter in 1930. Though remarkable for his diminutive stature he had a formidable presence. He was only five feet three in height, but managed to command respect in spite of it. He did many things for little or no reward, preferring praise and kudos to trying to earn money, which delighted his clients but worried his colleagues who, behind his back, used sometimes to describe this admirable little king of arms as every half-inch a king.

Windsor Herald was Algar Howard, a cousin of the Duke of Norfolk. In contrast to Gerald Wollaston, he was tall and handsome and, when he became Garter King of Arms in 1944, looked every inch a king. Like so many Howards I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I have met not a few of that noble ilk, he was aware that he was a Howard and apparently, though he tried to hide it, could not help feeling just a little sorry for you if you were not.

The four pursuivants in the Corporation, Rouge Croix, Rouge Dragon, Bluemantle and Portcullis (myself), derived their nomenclatures from heraldic devices principally associated with former kings of England. These heralds’ names may seem odd, or even comic, but they were old and some of the still older ones may seem still odder, like Volant King of Arms, for instance, and Comfort and Il Faut Faire Pursuivants. Perhaps our medieval forebears, who often seem so grave, had a keener sense of humour than we think.

In addition to the 13 heralds there were of course the staff, some employed by the Corporation and some by the heralds individually. They consisted of researchers, herald-painters or limners, scriveners, secretaries and the like, numbering altogether about 30 people, and all of them were men; I do not remember at that time a single woman amongst them. They came, however, a few years later, and when they did that were regarded at first with something close to horror. But soon the idea caught on and in more recent years there were sometimes perhaps more pretty faces about the place than was wise. One herald married his typist but I heard of no other remarkable event in this connection.”

Sir George Bellew, KCB, KCVO, KStJ,FSA.