FIVE COATS OF ARMS
In this chapter we must say a few words about the five "achievements"
which are shown in the coloured plates. These represent respectively
the armorial bearings of a duke, marquess, earl, baron, and
baronet.[1]
[Footnote 1: We have to apologize to our readers for the
omission--owing to want of space--of an example of the
armorial bearings of a viscount.]
To begin with No. 1.
This coat of arms belongs to the Duke of Leinster, and should be
blazoned--as you will know by this time--viz.: "Arg : a saltier gu
: _crest_, a monkey statant ppr : environed about the middle with a
plain collar and chained or. ; _supporters_, two monkeys, environed
and chained as the crest"; _motto_, "Crom aboo"--literally "Crom
to victory," Crom being the name of an old castle belonging to the
Fitzgeralds.
Now, in this achievement the trio of monkeys tell the story, _not_ of
their bearer's grand deeds, but of the noble feat performed by one of
_their_ own ancestors. And this is the monkey's story:
Long, long ago, in the reign of Edward I., John Fitz-Thomas Fitzgerald
(later first Earl of Kildare,[2] but at that time only an infant), was
staying in the Castle of Woodstock, when the building suddenly broke
into flames. In the first panic caused by the fire no one remembered
the poor baby lying helpless in his cradle; but when, later on, some
of the servants went back to search for him, they found only the
smouldering remains of his cradle on the charred floor of the
burnt-out nursery. Distracted with remorse, they wandered about
the smoking ruins, vainly seeking for the child. Suddenly, a queer
chattering attracted their attention to one of the high, blackened
towers of the castle, and there, outlined against the sky, stood the
pet ape of the household, holding the baby boy safe and sound in his
long, hairy arms! On this occasion, the monkey had put his betters to
shame, and had saved the helpless life which they had left to perish.
[Footnote 2: The eldest son of the Duke of Leinster is the
Marquess of Kildare.]
In gratitude for that monkey's devotion, John Fitzgerald adopted a
monkey for his crest, whilst two additional apes act as supporters to
the Duke of Leinster's shield. Thus, you see, in this case it is the
golden deed of a far-away monkey that heraldry keeps alive.
The arms of the Marquess of Hertford are very pretty ones, and afford
a good example of the use of the pile as an augmentation of honour.
It is introduced into the first and fourth grand quarters, bearing
the charge of three lions, whilst the second and third quarters are
occupied by two wings conjoined by lure. These arms, being precisely
the same as those of the Duke of Somerset, serve to remind us that
the Marquess of Hertford, whose family name is also Seymour, is a
descendant from one and the same ancestor. For whereas the wings in
the coat of arms represent the armorial bearings of the Seymours, the
pile was an augmentation of honour granted by Henry VIII. to Sir John
Seymour on the occasion of the King's marriage with Lady Jane Seymour,
his daughter. The same crest, a ph[oe]nix rising out of flames
surmounting a ducal coronet, does duty for both achievements, but
whereas the Duke of Somerset's supporters are a unicorn and a
bull, the Marquess of Hertford has two blackamoors, which are
blazoned--viz., "wreathed about the temples or, sa : habited in short
golden garments; adorned about the waist with green and red feathers;
each holding in his exterior hand a shield, az : garnished or, the
dexter charged with the 'sun in splendour,' gold, the other with a
crescent, silver. _Motto_, 'Fide et amore'--'With faith and love.'"
The Earl of Scarborough's coat of arms shows no quarterings. Here the
field is divided fesswise and charged with three parrots (they are
usually termed popinjays in heraldry). A pelican in her piety is the
crest, whilst we find parrots again with wings inverted as supporters.
These arms are of great antiquity, having been adopted by Sir
Marmaduke Lumley, who derived them from his mother, Lucia, co-heiress
of the ancient house of Thweng in the beginning of the fourteenth
century. Their motto is, "A sound conscience is a wall of brass."
Baron Hawke's achievement hints very plainly at the grand naval feats
performed by the founder of the house, Edward Hawke, the gallant
sailor, who, at the early age of thirty-one, was made Admiral of the
White. His brilliant victory over the French in 1747, when he captured
six large ships of the enemy's line, is matter of history. His arms
are "Arg : a chevron erminois between three pilgrims' staves purple,
the crest, a hawk rising, beaked, belled, and charged on the breast
with fleur-de-lys or ; whilst most appropriately the supporters of
this naval hero's shield are--dexter supporter, Neptune in a sea-green
mantle, crowned with an eastern coronet or, his dexter arm erect,
darting downwards his trident sa : headed silver, resting his sinister
foot on a dolphin, also sable ; sinister supporter, a sea-horse,
sustaining in his fore-fins a banner, arg : the staff broken ppr."
_Motto_, "Strike."
The fifth coat of arms, a very pictorial one, was assumed by the
great astronomer and musician, Sir William Herschel, and serves as our
example of a baronet's armorial bearings.
(You will note that it has no supporters, and that the baronet's
badge, a sinister hand charged on an escutcheon, is placed on the
dexter side of the field.) This coat of arms tells the story of its
bearer's grand discovery of the new planet, Uranus.[3]
[Footnote 3: We strongly advise our readers to refer to "A
Peep at the Heavens" for further information on this point.]
This Herschel achieved with the aid of a telescope of his own
making. And so very properly a telescope[4] with all its apparatus is
represented on the field, whilst the astronomical symbol of Uranus is
charged in the chief. The crest is a demi-terrestrial sphere with
an eagle thereon, wings elevated. _Motto_, "The heavens having been
explored."
[Footnote 4: Sir William Herschel made and erected a telescope
40 feet long at Slough, completing it in 1787.]
So this coat of arms, you see, shows the result of the labours of its
original bearer, along with the telescope which was instrumental in
making the wonderful discovery.
And now a few last words about the frontispiece. This shows the herald
in his tabard, which, as the official habit of heralds, has remained
unchanged in Great Britain ever since the office of herald was first
instituted. The tabard--really, a tunic--was originally worn over mail
armour, being blazoned back and front, as it is now, with the arms of
the sovereign for the time being.
Though the general name of tabard was given to this particular kind
of official garment, it was further distinguished by the term of
"tunique," when worn by the King-at-Arms. It was then made of "riche
fyne velvet." When worn by the heralds, the tabard was known as a
"plasque," and made of satin, whilst the pursuivant's tabard was
called a "coat of arms," and made of damask silk.
A King-at-Arms ranks first amongst heraldic officials. It is his duty
to direct heralds, to preside at their chapters, and to him belongs
the jurisdiction of arms.
We have three English Kings-of-Arms,[5] styled respectively, Garter,
Clarencieux, and Norroy. The officer attached to the Order of the Bath
is also styled "Bath King-at-Arms."
[Footnote 5: The term of "King-at-Arms" is also sometimes
employed.]
Scotland has her "Lyon King-of-Arms," Ireland her "Ulster
King-of-Arms."
We have three chief heralds and six subordinate or provincial
ones--viz., York, Lancaster, Chester, Windsor, Richmond, and Somerset.
On the accession of George I., two more were appointed and styled the
"Hanover Herald," and "Gloucester King-at-Arms."
A pursuivant is an attendant upon the herald, and belongs to the third
or lowest order of heraldic officers.
There are four English pursuivants, styled respectively, Rouge Croix,
Blue Mantle, Rouge Dragon, and Portcullis. Three pursuivants belong to
the Court of Lyon in Scotland--Unicorn, Carrick, and Bute.
On the cover we have the figure of a Crusader in his mail armour,
bearing on his breast the badge of a red cross charged upon a white
field.
Looking at the massive, closely knit armour portrayed in our
illustration, we can easily understand that the wearer encased within
it must have suffered cruelly in the East, when the burning sun poured
down upon his metal armour, and that, as a natural consequence, the
surcoat of some woven fabric was introduced, to be worn over the coat
of mail as a protection against the scorching rays of the sun.