The apotheosis of Uncle George’s career at the College of Arms was Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation but please be patient while he explains about a pain in the neck.
“For some time I had been having a pain in the neck and had consulted several specialists in necks about it. They took X-rays, thrust things down my throat, prodded me where it hurt most, scratched their heads and looked puzzled. “Nothing wrong,” they all declared, “try some of this: should do you good.” No good, not the slightest.
The doctors I consulted were allopaths which, as you know, is the name given to orthodox medical practitioners and it distinguishes them from homeopaths, who believe in an alternative, or additional, medical theory and practice. Although it may seem impolite to say so, it was almost in desperation that I went to see a homeopath.
The basic principle of homeopathy is that “like heals like” (etymologically the word means “a like suffering”). The theory is that nature tries to heal itself and will often do so, especially if helped scientifically.
So therefore if, for instance, you have a pain in the neck you will be given something which, if you had not got a pain in the neck, would be likely to give you one. Nonsense? Many people don’t think so. I tried it and my pain which had been with me for weeks, after immediately getting worse, faded away and was gone – not in a flash but gradually, within a few hours. Do I hear you say that the pain would probably have gone anyway? Maybe it would. But you could say the same of any sort of pathy.
How homeopathy actually works, how something so minuscule as the chemistry of its doses has to be (its “curative” or “activating” substances, whether animal, vegetable or mineral, are often diluted almost to the point of extinction), can react in the way it so often does is inexplicable, and for those who have faith in it there is no point in asking questions, because nobody really has the answers: the proof of the medicine, so to speak, lies in the swallowing. In any case, homeopathy is not new, nor is it just a passing fad; its principles were known to Hippocrates in the fifth century BC and the fact that Her Majesty the Queen and other members of the Royal Family believe in it does not, I would say, exactly detract from its credibility.
Before I tell you the reason for this digression into the field of medicine you should know that, at the time we are concerned with here, the way you took a dose of homeopathic medicine, which usually came in little flat paper packages about the size of your thumb, was to unfold the package and pour the powder in it on to your tongue and let it dissolve there slowly. Clearly it was not a thing you should attempt to do in public, especially during a very solemn ceremony.
On the unhappy occasion of King George VI’s funeral at Windsor in 1952, I had an important duty to perform which consisted of reading aloud from the altar steps in St George’s Chapel, before a congregation of kings and queens and what seemed to be the rest of the world’s magnificos in deepest mourning, the age-old valediction to the departed Sovereign, and salutation to the new, known as “the Styles”. I knew this solemn task could impose a severe strain on even the stoutest heart, and I was aware also that people in emotive circumstances have been known to fortify themselves with a nip of something beforehand; but I decided, in view of my now established faith in homeopathy, to take a powder instead.
“Take one of these,” my magician had said, “two hours before the event, and another exactly one hour before it.”
The first was easy; I took it in Windsor Railway Station waiting-room, where I put on my tabard behind a screen, and no one saw me. But the second was more difficult because I was by then in my place in the funeral procession. Nevertheless I solved the problem, unseen I think, by putting it, paper packet and all, into my mouth quickly, like lightning, and then slowly chewing it up as unobtrusively as I could.
It was not until the procession, in which I was now slowly walking, was approaching Windsor Castle that I realised I could not get rid of the paper in my mouth without being seen by those in the procession with me and by the soldiers and the staring public who lined the route on either side. As, however, the procession passed through the arched doorway into the castle courtyard, I saw my opportunity. The entrance was comparatively narrow, and no soldiers and no people were there, so I jettisoned the embarrassing bolus into my hand, and flicked it smartly – unobserved I think by anyone – behind the half of the great double doors nearest to me, and it disappeared into the shadows there. But its contents remained with me and, when the testing came, I am sure I felt less terrified than I would otherwise have been.”