“A mighty figure who kept very much in the background was the Deputy Earl Marshal, Lord FitzAlan who, as I have said, was deputy to his nephew the Duke of Norfolk, then a boy. Neither of them were members of the corporation of the College, but the Earl Marshal as such was its Supervisor from afar, its Protector when necessary, and its Patron at all times – responsibilities and prerogatives which had been delegated to the ancient hereditary Officer of Earl Marshal by the Crown centuries ago to keep the heralds on the strictly straight and narrow path from which admittedly they had at times been inclined to stray a little. In essence this structure was medieval but it worked, as it still does. There have been several attempts from powerful quarters at various times to reform the College, “bring it up to date”, make it part of the Civil Service (which in a sense it already is, yet strictly speaking isn’t) or just get rid of it, but although its inner workings have each time been thoroughly investigated and ventilated, it has always in the end been judged a worthy institution which does much more good than harm and which (and here is the kernel of the nut) would probably cost the tax-payer a lot of money if it were changed.
It must nevertheless be one of the minor wonders of the world how the College of Arms keeps going. A living, in a few cases quite a good one but in most, I am sorry to say, a very meagre one (such things as vocation and dedication do however come into it) is made there for perhaps forty or fifty people. The rates are staggering, the running-costs enormous, and the repair bills on a 300 year old building shattering, yet the tax-payer, I am happy to say, does not have to pay a penny towards these or any other expenses. It is all, or very nearly all, found from fees paid voluntarily to the heralds by their private and public clienteles for the services they render them. Her Majesty’s Privy Purse is the only other contributor and the amounts involved could either be described as delightfully medieval, or derisory, according to the way you look at such things. They are paid to the heralds individually and I used to regard mine, which in 1922, as I have said, was £13 19s per annum with perhaps two or three guineas added for certain special duties, as just a slender golden thread which joined me to the Crown. When much later I became Garter this thread increased in value to about £50 of “good and lawful money” per annum, before tax. It is fortunate for heralds that they do not have to live on these ancient groats alone.
I do not propose to inflict on you a detailed account of my everyday routine work at the College of Arms during the years between the wars. It was I think much the same as in many other offices – a lot of ink and a lot of paper. There was normal leisurely activity most of the time, rare periods of maximum effort, and intervals when there was nothing much to do but read, write, talk, or twiddle your thumbs – except of course that I was working in a medium which was in some respects unique.
May I briefly describe a few of the more unusual cases which made my job so unlike others? Some of them are mildly humorous, others rather sad.
There was Mrs A for instance (her real name does not matter), who was an American and deeply interested in her husband’s English ancestry and, through a latter-day family called Quincy, of England and the United States, in his possible lineal descent from the medieval and historically very important Anglo-Norman family of that name.
Quincy was a Norman seigneurie (now over-built) and the de Quincys who presumably came from there rose to be Earls of Winchester in England at the beginning of the 13th century. One of them, Sir Saher de Quincy, Earl of Winchester, a crusader and a one-time close friend of King John of England, was, according to the more hopeful and optimistic genealogists on both sides of the Atlantic, the obvious founder or “patriarch” of all the Quincy families of later times. No actual lines of descent were known but Mrs A was determined that at least her husband’s should be. It was a genealogical challenge and I accepted it. But after much expensive research over a long period of time, and though success often seemed near to being achieved, absolute proof of the desired connection was not in the end forthcoming. It had to remain no more than a reasonable possibility with a suggested but unproven line of descent.
But Mrs A would not acknowledge defeat and, playing her last card so to speak, went to have a close look at the life-size statue of the 13th century Sir Saher de Quincy, Earl of Winchester, which stands proudly in the House of Lords in the Palace of Westminster.
When I saw her next the light of triumph shone in her eyes. “I am totally convinced by what I have seen,” she said. “The family likeness is unmistakable. The features, the expression on the face, in fact the whole appearance, even the stance, are all exactly like my husband’s. I had no idea heredity could be so strong. There can be no doubt about it.”
The astonishing fact is that Mrs A was absolutely right about the resemblance. I examined the statue myself, and indeed the likeness of Mr A to the long dead earl was quite uncanny. But I could never bring myself to tell her the awful truth, which was that the statue had been made and placed there, together with those of other medieval magnates of whom unfortunately no likenesses were know, in the reign of Queen Victoria. It was just a coincidence, and a rather pitiable one at that.”
Sir George Bellew, KCB, KCVO, KStJ,FSA.