With all their banners bravely spread,
With all their armour flashing high;
Saint George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England's standards fly.

--Scott

It has been justly observed, that of the various memorials of eminent individuals of former ages, none are more calculated to flatter the pride of their descendants than a notice of the banners or standards which they bore in the field. Ancient history speaks most eloquently of the pride with which martial nations were wont to regard their standards, how they deemed it disgraceful--nay, almost infamous--to lose them, and how heroic to preserve them.

Some of the most daring deeds of valour narrated by Livy and other historians have reference to the banners borne by the Roman legions; from them we learn how it was the practice of the "Aquilifer," at moments of supreme peril, to hurl the imperial eagle into the hostile ranks in order to incite the wavering cohorts to the rescue; how, in a moment, all terror vanished, and life was gladly yielded by the Roman soldier to recover that banner in which he had learned to believe the honour of his nation was infolded.

Was it not the same spirit which animated those daring hearts on the terrible day of Albuera, when the colours of the 3rd regiment were imperilled? How gladly then was death preferred to dishonour! How gloriously the dying standard-bearer clung to the torn, but not dishonoured, remnants of the banner which he had perished in protecting!

And yet more recently, was not that spirit visible? Where, more so, than on the blood-stained heights of Alma, when the boy-soldier, the child-like Anstruther, youthful in form, but brimful of daring, poured forth his life-blood while proudly planting the standard of his regiment?

Where, also, the gallant Lindsay, when fighting for his colours, won the soldier's proud distinction--the priceless cross of valour !

Time has wrought but little change in the light in which a trite soldier regards the colours of his regiment; as it was with the Roman legions, so it is with British regiments their colours are a sacred symbol, suggestive only of noble deeds--ever to be guarded with jealous care--in moments of peril not to be yielded, save with life--and in times of peace to be pointed to with honourable pride.

According to Carlyle, "Symbols have both an extrinsic and an intrinsic value. What, for instance, was in that clouted shoe which the peasants bore aloft with them as ensigns in their Bauernkrieg (peasant-war), or in the wallet and staff round which the Netherland Guex, glorying in that nickname of beggars, heroically rallied and prevailed, though against King Philip himself? Intrinsic significance these had none, only extrinsic; as the accidental standards of multitudes, more or less sacredly uniting together, on which union itself, as above noted, there is ever something mystic and borrowing of the Godlike.

Under a like category, too, stand, or stood, the most stupid heraldic coats-of-arms -- military banners.

Everywhere, and generally, national or other sectarian costumes or customs, they have no intrinsic worth, but have acquired an extrinsic one. Nevertheless, through all these there glimmers something of a divine idea, as through military banners themselves the divine idea of duty, of heroic daring -- in some instances of freedom of right."

It is beyond doubt that it was customary for all warlike nations, from the very earliest periods, to carry standards or banners in the field of battle, but it is difficult to find any reliable information on the subject previous to the reign of Edward the Third. Ancient seals represent William the Conqueror with a lance in his right hand, to which is attached a small pennon, called a "Gonfanon."

In Dr. Meyrick's interesting work on "Ancient Armour," a gonfanon is stated to differ from a pennon in this respect: "that instead of being square and fastened to a tronsure bar, the gonfanon, though of the same figure, was fixed in a frame made to turn like a modern ship's vane, with two or three streamers or tails."

The object of the gonfanon appears to have been to render great people conspicuous to their followers, and at the same time to terrify the horses of the enemy. It was evidently a mark of dignity, for it is always depicted in the Bayeux tapestry as borne near the person of the Commander-in-chief and Wace says:

Li Barons ourent gonfanon,
Li Chevaliers ourent penon.

We read that at the "Battle of the Standard," in 1138, the English banner consisted of the mast of a ship fixed upon a wheeled carriage, at the top of which was placed a silver pix containing a consecrated wafer, and that under it were hung three banners dedicated to St. Peter, St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfred of Ripon. At Hastings, William carried a standard in the form of a fighting man, wrought with gold and precious stones, which, according to William of Malmesbury, he subsequently presented to the Pope.

In the reign of Henry the Second armorial bearings came into use, and the pennons, or gonfanons were charged with the arms of the owner, and, consequently, borne in the field, so that banners may be fairly regarded as coeval with the introduction of heraldry. It is certain that the pennon of the sovereign was similarly changed, but we have no account as to a national standard.

In Dart's "Westminster Abbey," there is a description of a standard borne in the 28th year of the reign of Henry the Third, which was "in the form of a dragon, composed of red samite, embroidered in gold, with eyes of sapphire, and a tongue constantly moving."

Barnes also mentions, in his "History of Edward the Third," how that monarch displayed at Cressey an ensign formed of a burning dragon, "to show that the French were to receive no mercy;" but there is no other authority to show that the dragon was used as a standard by the English before the reign of Henry the Sixth.

Those who are curious on the subject of banners and bannerets borne in the time of Edward the First should consult the famous heraldic poem describing the siege of Carlaverock Castle, in 1300, in which the arms of every banneret in the British army are accurately blazoned. Then both pennons and banners were borne, the latter being charged with the arms of their owners, and carried wherever those to whom they belonged were engaged, so that, naturally, they scarcely ever escaped scatheless. At Carlaverock, the poet tells that the banner of the intrepid John Fitzmarmaduke "received many stains, and many a rent difficult to mend."

Again, at Agincourt, Lydgate describes the Duke of York exclaiming,

Be myn baner slewn will y be,
Nor y will turne my back or me yelde.

In the "Siege of Carlaverock" will also be found some allusion to the banners borne by sovereigns; for instance, King Edward is described as showing "three leopards courant of fine gold, red, fierce, haughty, and cruel; thus placed to signify that, like them, the King is dreadful fierce and proud to his enemies, for his bite is slight to none who inflame his anger.

Vocatus Edwardus, Tanq'm leopardus,
Velox et non tardus, Pomposus Picardus.

It is certain that three other banners were borne by the English army: that of St. George, St. Edmund, king of the West Saxons, and St. Edward the Confessor, which latter was used in Henry the Sixth's reign. The former of these three national standards is still borne as part of the English flag, but, to the horror of those who enjoy the study of heraldic rules, and affect good taste, its purity has been destroyed by amalgamation with the crosses of St. Andrew and St. Patrick.

Honour of the Office

The office of Banner-bearer was one of great honour, and only conferred upon persons of distinction. Considerable doubt exists as to who was standard-bearer to the Conqueror: some writers assert that the manor of Usk was granted to Fitzrolph, "the standard-bearer of the Conqueror." Knight claims the honour for William Malet, as being "descended from the illustrious warrior who was standard-bearer to William the Conqueror."

According to Wace, "Duke William offered the standard to Raol de Conches, as his by right and by ancestry, but that Raol preferred to fight that day, so that it was accepted by Tosteins Fitzrow le Blanc." Again, in Burke's "Commoners," Sylvester de Grymeston is mentioned -- as having come over from Normandy as standard-bearer in the army of William."

In 1361, Edward the Third granted to Sir Guy de Bryan, 200 marks a-year " for having discretely borne his banner at the siege of Calais, in 1347." And Sir Thomas Stricland certainly claimed remuneration from Henry the Sixth for having borne the banner of St. George at Agincourt; but what says the old poem?

Waterton the banner bore
Of famed St. George at Azincour.

In subsequent years great care was taken to select men of power and bravery to bear the royal standard; as, for instance, on the disembarkment of the army before Harfleur, in 1415, the standards were entrusted "to such men as the King knew to be of great prowess and strength."

The custom of inscribing battles on the colours of a regiment is,. comparatively, of recent date, namely, the battle of Minden; had it been otherwise, how many additional records of glorious achievements would now grace the colours of the British army! how many regiments might proudly point to the simple words which told of the noble things the men who went before them had achieved under the great Marlborough and others!

The military flags of England, which are at present known as "colours," are at all times subject to official regulations, so that their size, form, and general appearance, may at any moment be altered; as has been recently done by the addition of fringe, and in other respects. They are always composed of the richest materials, and of the same colour as the regimental facings, and bear a close resemblance to the insignia borne by noble knights in the age of chivalry.

This rule, however, does not apply to the Household Brigade of Cavalry--the lst and 2nd Life Guards, with the Blues--the standards of which are all composed of richlyembroidered crimson silk. Until recently, the swallow-tailed "guidon," a relic of the knightly pennon, was carried by regiments of cavalry, but now the points are removed, and the guidon has become an ordinary square standard. The regular standard is only borne by each squadron of the heavy cavalry, and each troop of the Household Brigade, the regiments of light cavalry carrying instead ensigns attached to their kettle-drums. Every regiment of British infantry has its own "pair of colours," namely, "The Queen's Colour" and "The Regimental Colour," the former of which is "the Union Jack," and the latter of whatever colour the regimental facings may be.

A distinction exists, however, in "The Guards," their "Queen's Colours " being of crimson throughout, with the royal crown and cypher, and the regimental device and honours. A small "Union Jack" in the upper dexter canton, as a mark of difference, distinguishes "The Queen's Colours" of their 2nd Battalions; the same, with a flame issuing therefrom, distinguishes "The Queen's Colour " of the 3rd Battalion; while "The Regimental Colour" is the large "Union Jack." Each company of the Guards bears, in addition, a banner attached particularly to itself, and charged with its own peculiar device and legend.

While commenting on the value of symbols to the British army, we must not forget the sister service-the British navy-which has also performed its most glorious achievements under similar influence.

The first naval victory ever gained by England on the open seas dates so far back as the time of Louis the Eighth of France, who yielded seventy fully armed ships of war to Hubert de Burg, governor of Dover.

The reign of Queen Elizabeth, however, proved one of the brightest periods in the annals of naval warfare. The names of Drake, Howard, Hawke, Norriss, and others, recall to mind gallant exploits which served materially to increase the maritime power of the country. Next comes the name of the great Parliamentary Admiral, Robert Blake, who caused Jersey, Guernsey, and the Scilly Isles to bow before the Union Jack of England, and who proved victorious in Holland over the great Dutch Admirals De Ruyter and Van Tromp.

Rapidly passing by the exploits of Benbow, Anson, Boscawen, and Rodney, many of which were in the nature of raids and naval duels, we come to the eventful year 1798, in which Nelson was despatched in the "Vanguard" to the Mediterranean, on an expedition which resulted in one of the greatest naval victories on record -- the victory of the Nile -- a victory which, according to Mr. Yonge, the eloquent historian of the British navy, reassured Europe against France, caused Buonaparte's army to be hopelessly cut off from Syria, made Austria renew the war with the Directory, and effected an union between England and Russia. In 1803, after the momentary peace of Amiens, we again find Nelson and Collingwood reaping laurels for the Union Jack of England, till at length, on the fatal 21st October, 1805, they immortalised it at Trafalgar.

Such is a brief outline of events which so eloquently proclaim the spirit that actuated those whose lot it then was to protect the naval honour of England. That the spirit still exists, and requires but an opportunity to elicit it, is most abundantly manifested by the conduct of the British navy, as well in Russia as in China. It is true, the nature of events invidiously precluded the possibility of acquiring glory sufficient to satisfy those who thirsted for it; but when those opportunities did occur, the spirit surely was not wanting.

On the 28th of March, 1854, a peace of forty years' duration was terminated by a declaration of war against Russia. By none was that declaration more gladly welcomed then by the blue jackets of the British navy, so eager were they to prove that the same spirit which in former years had so often achieved victory against fearful odds had not become extinguished.

On the 22nd of April the first fire was opened at Odessa, under Admiral Dundas, and for the first time the immense superiority of steam in naval contests was most fully established. After the fall of Odessa, the British fleet proceeded to the Crimea, and, finally, to Sebastopol-all burning with impatience for the long-promised opportunity of acquiring distinction. Great, however, was their disappointment, when, in accordance with the novel tactics of Menchiceff, there slowly disappeared before their wondering eyes five line-of-battle ships and two frigates, numbering no less than 528 guns, which were deliberately and recklessly sacrificed, in order to block up the Russian harbour.

On the 16th of October the combined bombardment of Sebastopol was commenced, the north side being entrusted to the British fleet, led by Sir E. Lyons in the old "Agamemnon," in which Nelson had gained his laurels at Corsica. All that could be done was done boldly and gallantly, but fate seems to have decreed that the time had not yet arrived when an opportunity might be afforded to the British navy of distinguishing itself as fully as it hoped for.

Proudly, indeed, may England look back upon the exploits of her army and her navy -- exploits which have placed her in the high position which she now holds amongst the nations of the earth. Who can doubt but that in her hours of peril, in those supreme moments when the fate of nations trembled in the balance, the soldier's arm was more firmly nerved as the colours of his regiment waved before him--the sailor's heart was more quickly fired when he saw his flag in danger? So it was with the warlike Roman with the barbarous Scythian; -- so it is with the British soldier; -- so it was at Marathon; -- so we saw it at Alma; -- so it has been from time immemorial; -- so it will be in all future ages!