Footnotes on Friday

by

Trooping the colour

I saw a You-Tube clip recently in which a fellow sat and watched a clip of British soldiers Trooping of the Colour. He was merely reacting to it–asking questions, like had they been doing it for long, did they do it often, and what did it mean. Now as a New Zealander and therefore a member of the Commonwealth, I knew that the event takes place every Queen’s (for most of my life) or King’s (now) birthday, and is a ceremonial event put on by regiments of the monarch’s Household Division.

The Household Division of the army are the regiments whose primary responsibility is guarding the monarch and the royal palaces – five regiments of foot soldiers and two of horse guards.

But when did the event start, why did it start, and what is Trooping the Colour, anyway?

It goes back to battle in all parts of the world and in all ages before radio and field telephones. Battle plans are disrupted almost as soon as a battle starts, and if a regiment gets separated in the heat of battle, they need to know where their comrades and their commanders are. Some armies have carried flags (called standards). Some staffs with symbols on them, such as the Roman and later Napoleonic eagles. A soldier cut off from his own can make for the standard, which stands out above the smoke and dust of the battle, so that he is not fighting alone but is contributing to the overall goal.

Every regiment has its own flag – called its colours, and the practice was to march the colours through the troops while they were on parade so that they knew what to look for in the heat of battle. Hence trooping the colours.

When King Charles II was restored to the throne, the Horse Guard provided his personal guard, his Household Cavalry. They still hold this role today. Like other regiments, they trooped their colours, and their regimental commander, the monarch himself, attended the event. It became a major ceremonial spectacle, and since 1745, one regiment of the Household Cavalry has trooped their colours before the reigning monarch every year on the day of his birthday, as part of a wider ceremony of inspection and celebration.

Here’s how the British army describes the scene on their page about the event:

The Royal Procession in glittering gold and silver uniforms makes its way down the Mall to Horse Guards Parade. The Mall is filled with Union Flags and the uniquely red tarmacked road is deliberately designed to look like a VIP red carpet. Announcing the arrival of the procession, the sound of the priceless Georgian Silver kettle drums carried by the Welsh Shire drum horses at the head of the procession filters through to those waiting in the stands on Horse Guards.

Four Divisions of The Sovereign’s Escort of the Household Cavalry, descendants of those loyal gentlemen who protected His Majesty Charles II in exile and accompanied Him back to London to restore the Monarchy in 1660, are still ever present in determined force 365 years later, protecting King Charles III as He rides to Horse Guards to inspect His Troops. It’s an astonishing spectacle of razor steel, mirror groomed horses, tunics of scarlet, blue and gold, swans feathers and silk.

Once the King arrives at Horse Guards Parade:

His Majesty The King conducts his inspection of the Foot Guards who, along with the Household Cavalry, form the Household Division. Every Guardsman on parade is an operational soldier and standards they apply to ceremonial duties are reflected in the excellence with which they conduct operations. With more experience of this event than any other person present, His Majesty who has frequently ridden in parade in His prior role of Colonel Welsh Guards will notice any detail that is not correct and will inform the Major General afterwards.

Once His Majesty The King has returned to the saluting base, the command ‘Troop’ is given by the Field Officer in Brigade Waiting.

Then come the massed bands, and after that the actual trooping of the colour. See here for the detail: https://www.army.mod.uk/news/what-is-trooping-the-colour/

by

Putting on the top hat

In the first draft of The Secret Word, I used the term “top hat”. Then I looked it up and found I was too early for the name. Though the first top hat was made in the 1790s and they quickly became popular, they were not called top hats until Victorian times. In 1810, they went by several names, depending on the variety. Isn’t research fun.

by

In Regency England, what was a curate? What is a solicitor?

The lawyer writes the gentleman’s will while the curate acts as a witness.

My editor questioned a couple of terms in my book Jackie’s Climb, because she’d seen them in a different context. Here’s my answer, written into the author’s notes, in case other people have the same concerns. The question? Did the Anglican church at the time have curates? And what did they do? And should I have said attorney instead of solicitor?

In the Regency era Anglican church, a curate was an ordained minister of any age who was paid by the vicar to assist him in the parish.

A post as vicar of a parish was called a living, because it guaranteed a fixed amount of property or income (which the vicar would live on). This income came from tithes paid to the holder of the living, either great tithes or small tithes. A great tithe was 10% of all cereal grown or all wool shorn in the parish, and a small tithe was 10% of all other agricultural produce.

A vicar with a big parish, or one who simply didn’t want to do the work, could employ a curate to help him out.

In England, to this day, practitioners of law are either solicitors or barristers. A solicitor is a legal practitioner who undertakes a variety of legal work, and also prepares cases for a barrister. A barrister is a legal practitioner who pleads cases in court. In New Zealand, where I live, most lawyers are both.

In England prior to the 19th century, the term solicitor was used only for those who prepared cases for Chancery. A legal practitioner who prepared other cases was an attorney at law, or public attorney. This is the term that has prevailed in the United States, but in England during the 19th century it fell into disrepute because of the behaviour of private attorneys. A private attorney was anyone with the power to act on behalf of another person–to this day, we talk about “power of attorney”.

I could have chosen the term lawyer, which simply meant (and means) one whose profession is suits in court or client advice on legal rights. Solicitor is more specific.

by

Titles and inheritance

I saw it again, today. The idea that a duke can decide not to leave his title to his eldest legitimate son. Wrong! That isn’t true, even today.

He might be able to strip the title of any unentailed property and leave that to someone else. But the title and the entailed property do not belong to the duke (or other peer), but are held in trust for his descendants.

 

by

The lady with the wheelbarrow

My next newsletter subscriber story is in part inspired by a true story that I read many years ago. A man emigrated from England to New Zealand, and then sent for his wife and children to join him. However, when his wife arrived in Dunedin, New Zealand, her husband was not there to meet the ship.

The place he had settled was 120 or more miles away, through rough country trails, in Southland. Our intrepid wife was not defeated, however. She purchased a wheelbarrow, loaded her luggage and the younger children into it, and set off.

History records that she joined him on the farm he was carving out of the wilderness, went on to have more children, and lived to a ripe old age, matriarch of a clan of children, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren.

The enduring memory I have of her, though, is of the woman who did not allow a small matter of four (or was it five) children and 120 miles to stop her, but simply looked for a solution and put it into action. They were tough women, those pioneers.

Maggie’s wheelbarrow tells the story not of a pioneer but of another type of woman, equally tough–a soldier’s wife who followed the drum with her husband. When my Maggie arrives in Southhampton with two children and a long way to go, she buys a wheelbarrow. I hope my subscribers enjoy her story as much as I enjoyed the original.