We have all been captivated by Lorna Doone. We all remember John Ridd. If we go to the village of Malmsmead, we shall see the coat of arms he was given after his exploits in Doone valley. Some readers may have their own coat of arms. This is heraldry. It is a world with a language of its own and a college of its own. It is one of the things that makes us different from the USA. It is an extension of the observation that an Englishman loves a lord.
A language of its own? Like train-spotting (Pacific, Atlantic, Decapod, saddle etc), heraldry is nothing if not inventive. Blazon (the language) features words like argent, rampant, bend, gules. Being of the nature of hieroglyphs, it requires hierophants to interpret it.
There is no grand ceremony that is not indebted to this kind of nostalgic inventiveness. The feudal system provides anchorage for such occasions. The five ranks of peers, officers of state, masters or mistresses of various components of the royal household dust off their coronets, brush their robes and sally forth to do their ceremonial duty. Soldiers, sailors and airmen polish their boots and their buttons. Horses carry riders with gleaming breast-plates and stately plumes. It is ceremonial at its most ambitious. Like grand buildings it impresses and belittles. It is the frontage of power and of power with a pedigree.
Of course, it needs only a daring observer to say that the emperor has no clothes for the illusion to be seen for what it is. The feudal system is long gone. We no longer have cavalry charges, pikes and swords. The display of power is seen as a pretence in a world of drones, cyber-espionage and guided missiles. Today power prefers to remain undetectable and beyond suspicion.
Ceremonial has its Achilles’ heel. If the outward manifestation of it before a dutiful audience is no more than a manifestation, it is like a balloon close by a needle. There has to be a match, then, between on the one hand understanding and expectation and on the other choice and care in performance. Whether we are talking about the Trooping of the Colour by the Brigade of Guards or a heritage railway, we have to ponder the link between show and effectiveness.
That is not to consign robes, choreography and accessories like headgear or its absence to the history books. Worship is essentially a dignified proceeding. Beautiful buildings, profound scripts and equally profound music are in order. Ritual and ceremonial cannot be avoided. Even in the most determinedly severe styles of worship a recognised order and conformity are evident. The exclusive Brethren and the Baptists opt for utmost simplicity. The Orthodox choose the most extravagant garments. Both options avoid the casual and the workaday.
STANDARD GAUGE
Wylam, Northumberland is the birthplace of George Stephenson. His cottage is a magnet for railway fans. He not only engineered the Rocket. He established four foot eight and a half inches as the standard gauge for railways worldwide. Today St Oswin’s, Wylam is joined with St Mary’s, Ovingham. This has its own claim to fame – its Anglo-Saxon tower.
The present incumbent is Tom Birch. Before ordination he was a climate change specialist, travelling extensively in Africa and elsewhere. He gets about on a motor-bike.
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