On Ladies’ Garters

Dr Andrew Gray

Just a day after York’s presentation, I attended yet another heraldic zoom lecture, this time by Dr Andrew Gray for the Heraldry Society, concerning Ladies of the Order of the Garter. I made a post about this topic two years ago and advertised it in the chat box. Unusually the host actually drew attention to it, and my site traffic is already seeing an uptick.

The lecture began with the special statute enacted by the newly-ascendant Edward VII in 1901 to appoint his wife Alexandra to the order, followed by a similar instrument in 1910 for Queen Mary. Gray noted that this was unusual at the time but not unprecedented. In 1358, just ten years into the order’s creation, Edward III made Philippa of Hainault a lady of it. Gray mentions that the early gentlemen of the Garter had ladies in their company on ceremonial occasions, though their status – and even identity – is vague. In the period of 1358-1495 Gray identified seventy-four Ladies of the Garter in the records, most of whom were wives of the knights and/or members of the royal family. He notes that there were probably a lot more but the necessary records are missing. The ladies received robes, and wore the garter itself on the upper arm (whereas the men wore it on the leg).

There then followed an examination of the ladies appointed in that time, their arms, and their relation to the contemporary monarchs. One of those highlighted was Jacquetta, Countess Rivers, whom Gray noted had been made famous by Philippa Gregory. She was allegedly descended from the water goddess Melusine and gifted psychic powers, which the present monarch has presumably inherited.

The appointments of ladies of the order ended in 1495 with Margaret, Countess of Richmond and mother of Henry VII. Over the next few centuries there were five female sovereigns of the Garter but no female appointees until the sudden spurt in the twentieth century. There was also some discussion of the issues I raised in my aforementioned 2019 post regarding female crests and helms.

While I enjoyed the presentation it still left me a little confused – I don’t recall learning any explanation as to why the installation of ladies was discontinued in the sixteenth century, nor the precise distinction between plain “Lady” and “Lady Companion”. Still, at least I got to flog the blog rather effectively this time.

The society’s lecture series is taking a break now, and will return on 24th September.

The College of Arms in the Eighteenth Century

The early decades of the eighteenth century saw the College of Arms at its lowest point in its history, when its relevance and even its survival seemed to be in doubt. Very few grants of Arms were being made, heraldic regulation was increasingly ineffective, and the practices of its Officers were in decline. Appointments were sometimes made for the wrong reasons, so that Officers might not be there for their heraldic or genealogical skills. Could the century see a revival of the fortunes of this ancient institution? Could it find new venues for its activities, new areas of expertise, and new sources of revenue? Could heraldry adapt to the changing fashions and aesthetics of the Enlightenment and Romanticism? This talk will seek to examine and answer these questions.

So said the online invitation. Today’s virtual heraldic lecture was given by Peter O’Donoghue, York Herald since 2012. As the title implies, the lecture covered the ups and downs of life and work at the college from 1701 to 1800. As this one, unusually, has been uploaded to YouTube, I do not think it necessary in this instance to type out a long account.

Are You Equal To It?

Several times before now I have written of the frustration in locating up-to-date sources of heraldic information. For the last few years the latest edition of Debrett’s Peerage I could access was from the year 2000 and the latest of Burke’s was from 2003.

Earlier this week I found Debrett’s Peerage 2019 advertised on Amazon. Unusually it had the “Look Inside” feature enabled. Ordinarily this preview only allows one to read the first chapter, with some barely even getting through the title and contents pages. This one, however, had hundreds of pages included. That made it all the more annoying that so many of the early pages were spent on essays, anecdotes, company history, biographies of the royal family and explanations of the peerage system itself (the latter two generally not changing much from one edition to the next). For some time I feared that the preview would end before it actually got to the part for which I was looking. Thankfully that did not occur, and I got as far as Chorley before the page went blank. I was able to harvest previously-unknown blazons for more than a dozen recent-ish life peers and a few hereditaries as well. For those whose titles come later in the alphabet I had to think of alternative strategies.

The Baroness Hale of Richmond is one whose blazon I have sought for many years. Her arms, or rather the motto that goes with them, has been elevated to fame in certain media circles, particularly after her prorogation ruling. Despite this, the newspapers almost and press releases never actually showed a picture of her arms nor quoted any part of the blazon. As with Michael Martin, it leads me to wonder if none of the journalists have actually seen it either and they’re all just copying each other. When I spoke to her ladyship over Teams two weeks ago I considered asking her outright to find her letters patent and hold them up to the camera, but ultimately opted for a more lecture-relevant question instead. In fact I had seen her arms before, in August 2018 when someone on a forum somewhere (I cannot find it again) linked to a photograph of her lozenge, showing two scrolls in saltire between four towers in cross. Unfortunately the picture included no contextual clues to its authenticity, so when I recreated that image and it added to her Wikipedia page it was swiftly removed for lack of evidence. On the day of the prorogation ruling the heraldry subreddit discussed her arms using my image as their reference. From that thread one user (account since deleted) posted a link to a different illustration which included the motto and supporters (presumably a photograph of the letters patent), but which still omitted the blazon and any other contextual details so was no more useful for encyclopedic purposes. Still, it gave me an idea:

Google Books is variable in what it shows you – a book out of copyright usually has its full text available, but one still protected may show you only a small sample, the exact extent of which is at the discretion of the owner. A lot of books have a generous preview, others yield nothing at all. Debrett’s Peerage 2015 and 2019 were of the latter sort, but 2008 and 2011 allowed the “snippet view”, where if you search the text for a certain word or phrase it will bring up screenshots of those terms with maybe a couple of lines above and below. In Hale’s case I was fortunate to already know what I wanted to find and, upon typing “two frogs” into the small search bar, found it. I was amused to see that Debrett’s had translated the motto Omnia Feminae Aequeissimae as “Everything to the Most Just Woman” and not “Women are equal to everything” as her fans have widely quoted.

The Lord Tebbit was a similar case. I found a few scattered references to his coat of arms including a polecat – derived from what had originally been an insulting political nickname – but no further detail or illustration. Searching for “polecat” returned the blazon for his crest, supporters and motto, then searching for bits of those eventually got me the blazon for his shield. The Lord Brittan of Spennithorne’s arms were completely unknown to me, but when I searched for him by name the snippet showed the top of his crest. I guessed it was a sheep, then searched for “crest – a sheep” and found the full details.

All in all this is quite a cumbersome process but not entirely fruitless. I hope to find more soon.

Prorogation with Brenda Hale

The Baroness Hale of Richmond today gave the 2021 Magna Carta Lecture for Royal Holloway, University of London, in which she recounted the events of her 2019 ruling on the lawfulness of prorogation.

The lecture was conducted on Microsoft Teams with over two hundred attendees. Paul Layzell, the college principal, made the introductory speech.

Hale told the tale of the events leading up to her court’s judgement. The prorogation ceremony had taken place on Monday 9th (technically the early hours of Tuesday 10th) September. On Wednesday 11th September three judges of the Inner House of Scotland’s Court of Session ruled that the prorogation was unlawful. On the same day the High Court of England & Wales ruled that the matter was non-justicable. One day later the High Court of Northern Ireland declined to rule on the prorogation as the other courts had already done so.

It was obvious that, there being only one UK Parliament, these contradictory rulings could only be resolved by the UK Supreme Court and that their answer had to be reached relatively quickly lest the alleged unlawful purpose (of reducing the legislature’s sitting time) would already have been achieved before the court could say that it shouldn’t. As with the first Miller case the decision was made to use a maximally-large panel of eleven justices to prevent suggestion that the panel’s composition would have changed the result. The parties were given impossibly tight deadlines to file their written submissions and other documents for the hearings between Tuesday 17th and Thursday 19th September.

Her ladyship treated us to a brief history of constitutional law, including Magna Carta itself of course but more specifically various rulings on the extent and the exercise of royal prerogative powers whether by monarchs themselves or their ministers. She referred to Sir Edward Coke, who as Chief Justice of the Common Pleas in 1607 declared that the King could not overrule courts according to his own preferences, and then in 1610 ruled that the King could not create new criminal offences by proclamation, and that the King had no prerogative but that which the law of the land allows him. Any question of who made the law in the first place was settled by the Glorious Revolution of 1688 in which William III & Mary II were elevated to the throne on the express condition that only the King-in-Parliament could make law.

Hale referred to other prerogative cases such as Entick v Carrington in 1765 which held that the Secretary of State lacked to the authority on his own to issue search warrants, and Attorney-General v De Keyser’s Royal Hotel Ltd in 1920 which held that prerogative powers could not overturn a statutory prohibition on requisitioning property without compensation. The latter, she noted, is now more famous for the dispute over how “De Keyser” should be pronounced. I recall that episode being reenacted on Have I Got News For You. A more recent case was Council of Civil Service Unions v Minister for the Civil Service in 1984, surrounding the government’s attempt to ban – via Order in Council – GCHQ staff from unionising. The Law Lords held that such prerogative powers were subject to judicial review but that national security concerns were a legitimate exception. The most recent precedent was R v Chaytor in 2010, which decided that MPs’ expenses claims were not protected by Parliamentary Privilege because, Hale told us, “Proceedings in Parliament are what MPs do when they go about the core business of the house – taking part in debates, questions committees, votes – not anything and everything that MPs may do when they’re in the Palace of Westminster.”

She then returned to the prorogation hearing, noting that counsel for the litigant from Northern Ireland “had to be reminded more than once that we were not there to decide whether Brexit could be reconciled with the Good Friday Agreement”. She acknowledged that some people were surprised by the speed with which the court was prepared to give judgement, but argued “We were already ten days into the prorogation, so time was of the essence.”. The justices worked at furious speed over the weekend to have draft judgements typed, agreed and processed in time for handing down on Tuesday.

All parties agreed that the court could determine the existence and extent of prerogative powers, but there were disputes over whether exercise thereof was justicable. The justices determined that the case was about the former: The power to prorogue could not be unlimited, for that would foul the principles of Parliamentary Sovereignty and Parliamentary Accountability. The justices concluded that “advising the monarch to prorogue Parliament would be unlawful if the prorogation had the effect of frustrating or preventing without reasonable justification the ability of Parliament to carry out its constitutional functions as a legislature and as the body responsible for supervising the government”. If the effect of this prorogation was unlawful then it would not be necessary for the Prime Minister’s intent to be reviewed. The court easily concluded that the effect was as described and that there was no reasonable justification – the government’s only explanation of any kind being a memorandum from Nikki da Costa which gave reasons for having a speech from the throne on 14th October (long set in Her Majesty’s diary), but not for closing Parliament five weeks in advance instead of the usual six days or so. It was acknowledged that those weeks included the party conference season when the legislature tended not to sit anyway, but pointed out in this instance MPs and peers might have elected to stay at work to oversee the major constitutional change looming on 31st October.

Finally the government had argued that the prorogation itself, in contrast to the ministerial advice, was a Proceeding in Parliament and thus immune to challenge by any court. There came the meat of Lady Hale’s judgement – although the prorogation ceremony took place in the Lords’ chamber with members of both houses present it was not something that the legislature had debated or decided, rather it was imposed upon them from outside. The court was therefore entitled to question it, and they decided that with the ministerial advice having been unlawful, the Order in Council to which it led must also have been unlawful. In a memorable turn of phrase “…when the royal commissioners walked into the House of Lords it was as if they walked in with a blank sheet of paper.” and so Parliament had not in fact been prorogued. The session resumed and the two speakers recalled their respective houses the next day.

After the passage of some further major legislation (further delaying Brexit to 31st January 2020*), Parliament was again prorogued, but only for the standard six days, with the speech still taking place on 14th October as planned. Hale recalled that she and the other justices “went along in our finery to hear it, knowing full well that there was likely to be a general election and another Queen’s Speech before the year was out, and so it turned out to be. I felt very sorry for Her Majesty. She could so easily have been spared it all if it had been clear from the outset that that was the plan.”

Now Hale has five reflections:

  1. If there had been no case, then the legal position would have been the same but “noone would have been any the wiser” without a court to decide it. We need people to bring forward cases when fundamental constitutional principles are involved, even if their personal motivations for doing so are less high-minded.
  2. If the Prime Minister had filed an affidavit saying that he needed a realistic threat of exiting without a deal and Parliament was determined to thwart him, therefore it was necessary to suspend legislative activity, then the case would have been more complicated as it would constitute a justification whose reasonableness the court would have to assess, clearly a more political decision.
  3. Some say it would have been better for the ruling not to have been unanimous, as the inclusion of dissenting opinions would have allowed the public to see how the government’s arguments were acknowledged but refuted. Hale regrets that due to the time pressure it was not possible to rehearse them at length, but insists it was still quite clear what they were. In her view the unanimity of all eleven justices has more power than a split decision would have.
  4. Public approval of the ruling was strongly correlated with support for remaining in the European Union, but not absolutely. She remembers widespread wearing of the spider brooches and t-shirts by people whose views on Brexit she could not know. Indeed, she does not know how her fellow justices voted in the referendum or in general elections. Public attitudes are not always irrelevant, but a question of high constitutional principle cannot be decided in accordance with public opinion on something completely different.
  5. Some say the whole effort was for nothing as the government swiftly won a large majority. Hale disagrees, citing other cases (including Miller in 2016) where a defeat of the government’s prerogative was soon followed by statutory authorisation, but insisting that they all affirmed important constitutional principles regarding the rule of law and the prevention of tyranny.

The baroness’s presentation concluded to as much applause as the software would allow. Matthew Humphreys, Head of the School of Law, then initiated a short question period. He began with the perennial question of whether a codified constitution would have made any difference. Hale replied that constitutions tend to say there will be a legislature to make laws, a judiciary to interpret them and a government to run the country. Commonwealth constitutions often say that the government may exercise the powers previously exercised by Royal Prerogative, without telling you exactly what the Royal Prerogative involves, and thus without answering the questions raised in any of the cases studied. She also believes that, whatever the merits of introducing a codified constitution may be, it is surely never going to happen. Written constitutions tend to be the product either of revolution or of decolonisation. A country with neither of those factors would have little inclination to introduce such a document, and in any case Parliament would not want to limit its own power – as tends to be the point of a codified constitution – especially by allowing the courts to strike down its acts.

I asked the next question: “Had the European Union (Withdrawal) No. 2 Act received Royal Assent at prorogation rather than separately hours earlier, would the “blank sheet of paper” ruling have annulled it in the same manner as it was deemed to have done for the Parliamentary Buildings (Restoration & Renewal) Act?”

Her response: “That would require some further research to even reach a tentative view on what the right answer is. We were not considering whether the Royal Assents given at the same time were affected by the “blank sheet of paper”. Off the top of my head it sounds quite unsurprising that they would be, but in any event it wouldn’t have made any difference because we would have had to have reached the conclusion that we did. The fact that the Withdrawal No. 2 Bill received Royal Assent by a different route obviously meant that it wasn’t affected but it wouldn’t have mattered that much if it had been affected because obviously Royal Assent could have been given when Parliament resumed, so these are technicalities which are of extreme interest to aficionados of Parliamentary procedure but they don’t actually affect the principles involved.”

The next question, by Mohammad Sabuj, was “Were there any restrictions in the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court that justices face in the judicial review as opposed to an appeal in this matter? Had an appeal been brought, would that make the decision of the Supreme Court more authoritative?”

Her response: “In both cases we were dealing with judicial review and we were hearing an appeal from a judicial review. The way to challenge the validity of governmental actions in the absence of a statutory right of appeal from that action is by judicial review, so there’s no problem with judicial review – that’s the way to do it. There are certain government actions for which there is a statutory right of appeal but prorogation of course is not one of them.”

The Lord McNally asked: “You said in your remarks about the eleven hard-working justices who made the decision “They are not as diverse as I would like.” How do we make our judiciary more diverse?” He acknowledged having previously asked her that same question back when he was the minister for judicial diversity and “failed totally in achieving anything”.

Her response: “A great deal of progress has been made during this century since we have had the Judicial Appointments Commission and an open, transparent, merit-based process for appointing judges. The gender diversity in the judiciary has improved very considerably. It’s still not as it should be but it’s doing very well. Ethnic diversity is a much more complex problem because the barriers and obstacles to success in the legal profession are different for different ethnic groups and so achieving a proper balance is going to be more complicated. Then there are other dimensions of diversity that are even more challenging, one of which is educational and socioeconomic background. I could bang on about this for quite a long time, but I’d like us to be encouraged by the fact that we do now have a system which is committed to trying to make things better and the good news is that in the tribunals judiciary the gender and ethnic balance is not far short of of what it is in the working population of the comparable age group, which is a great achievement and if it can be done for the tribunals judiciary it can in due course be done for the courts too. Don’t be too downhearted Lord McNally. You didn’t have a silver bullet, there is no silver bullet, but nevertheless progress is being made.”

A.G. Latham asked: “The requirement that the length of prorogation must be justified by adequate reason sounds rather like the proportionality requirement in other words. Would you accept that characterisation of it, and do you think this this will prove to be potentially relevant in other areas?”

She replied: “There are no doubt theses being written as we speak about whether the concept of proportionality is gradually taking over from the concept of irrationality or mens rea unreasonableness in the context of judicial review of governmental action generally, because there are one or two hints in one or two cases that we might move by inaction, but we certainly haven’t got there yet and the cases where we have addressed the problem directly – The Malayan Massacre Case – it was expressly rejected so I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon, but the point about the case that we had was that we didn’t really have to think very hard about what might or might not be a reasonable justification. That’s why I raised the question about what if the evidence had been different, because there was very clearly no evidence of any reasonable justification for anything other than a four or five day prorogation in preparation for the Queen’s Speech on 14th October. When you’ve not got anything you don’t have to worry about what might be justification. Somehow I doubt whether the problem’s going to arise again, but if it does of course my successors will have to wrestle with it.”

Paul Evans said: “I was provoked by your reference to the Bill of Rights earlier. You mentioned William & Mary’s acceptance of it when they took the throne and you talked about the unlikelihood of a written constitution”. His audio then failed, but Humphreys guessed that the question would have been “Could Parliament repeal the Bill of Rights?”

Hale replied: “If Parliament repealed the Bill of Rights, would it actually nevertheless retain the concept of the sovereignty of Parliament which was cemented by the Bill of Rights? In theory Parliament can unmake any law, but if they unmade the Bill of Rights I think it’s a very interesting question as to whether the courts could nevertheless say that the principle that Parliament could make or unmake any law remained extant, because that was the result of the revolutionary settlement – and it was a revolutionary settlement – in 1688. That’s another nice one for my successors, but I don’t think you’re going to have it happen so maybe you won’t have to decide it.”

FURTHER READING

*Hale repeatedly said “31st December” instead, perhaps confusing Brexit itself with the end of the transition period.

Cecily Neville by Annie Garthwaite

Host Cynthia Spencer, Chairman Keith Stenner and Writer Annie Garthwaite

The latest installment in my EventBrite saga is today’s presentation to the Gloucester Branch of the Richard III Society by Annie Garthwaite, who has written a historical fiction piece about Cecily Neville (1415-1495), Duchess of York and mother of two kings.

The meeting properly began at 14:00 but the Zoom session was opened at 13:30. Cynthia Spencer, the host, said this was both to reduce the risk of interruption due to technical errors (or people arriving late) and to replicate in some way the socialisation between attendees that would occur at physical meetings. The first few minutes were thus filled with little more than awkward “Hello, hello?”s as early arrivals tested their sound systems. Garthwaite herself had to borrow an office with a fast broadband connection, her own being unreliable. There ensued a more general discussion as to the benefits and drawbacks of conducting all such meetings virtually. The ease of attendance from across a wider geographical area without a long commute was weighed against the subscription fee for the software. I opined that a virtual event’s main weakness was the impossibility of a buffet. Garthwaite recalled having virtual dinner parties – dinner for twelve people but only washing up for two! Inevitably there was talk about not being dressed below the waist.

After many more minutes of functional chatter, Keith Stenner (Chairman of the Gloucester Branch) announced that this was their first presentation of a fiction book. Garthwaite said that she had inherited her mother’s obsession with historical fiction and that her history teacher would pass books along to her. She was particularly enthralled by We Speak No Treason and developed an infatuation with Richard III – one obviously unrequited if for no other reason than the monarch having died five centuries prior.

Likeness by unknown artist circa 1540.

Cecily, the speaker noted, was born in the year of Agincourt and died in the reign of Henry VII. She was the only main protagonist of the Wars of the Roses to personally live through the whole of the conflict period, and spent much of that time as the most powerful woman in England save the queens themselves.

Garthwaite read out an extract from her book, set in Rouen in 1531 with Cecily observing Joan of Arc’s execution.

Returning to her background, she mentioned that she had long been familiar with other important women from the period – Margaret of Anjou, Margaret Beaufort, Elizabeth Woodville – and blamed Shakespeare for Cecily’s comparative obscurity. In his plays the duchess appears old, pious and dull, with few lines and little agency. Our guest went into an explanation of her subject’s childhood and courtship, then (with some fumbling around the screen-share function) showed us a simplified* diagram of Richard of York’s ancestry to demonstrate how he came about his multiple peerages as well as his two claims to the throne. She noted that, despite Richard clearly receiving royal favour at various points, he was always under suspicion from the Lancastrians.

Cecily’s arms – Richard Duke of York impaling Ralph Earl of Westmorland.

Garthwaite said she believed Richard & Cecily to be a marriage of equals, both being highly intelligent and ambitious – Cecily was allowed to operate autonomously in her husband’s business, household and political negotiations. It was a worryingly long time before the marriage produced any children but eventually she sired eight sons and four daughters (most of whom she outlived).

Garthwaite views Cecily’s marriage as the apprenticeship to her true flourishing as a widow, noting that when her son Edward IV acceded to the throne he immediately rushed off to the Battle of Towton, leaving the duchess in charge of the royal household “effectively as regent”, with ecclesiastical and diplomatic correspondence describing her as the true leader of England.

Describing the production process, Garthwaite said she – a novelist not a historian by training – was determined to stick as closely to known facts as possible. Medieval noblewomen did not solely concern themselves with embroidery and maternity, but would be in charge of managing large and complicated household organisations. Cecily’s family conflict was examined – her marriage into the House of York pitted her against her own Beaufort cousins.

After an anecdote about Destiny’s Stone on the Hill of Tara, another extract was read – concerning the Duke & Duchess’s last day in Ireland. This ended the formal presentation. Stenner noted that the book ended in 1461 but Cecily lived to 1495, and asked if a sequel was coming. Garthwaite confirmed that there would.

Spencer then began reading out questions that had been submitted by other attendees. One was about the allegation that Edward IV was the son of Blaybourne the archer and not Richard of York. Garthwaite laughed “I knew this would come up!” and said that the possibility of an affair was gold dust for historical novelists, but she decided that the theory was too tenuous.

Another was how a writer decides which historical events to include and which to omit, given Cecily’s very long life. Garthwaite said she learned to find the junctures which enable you to tell the overall story most clearly. She also said that “Your editor always has different opinions on it than you do.”

Spencer herself then asked about the legal status of decisions made by a woman in that era, and how her household was managed during confinement. Garthwaite replied that a lady of Cecily’s rank effectively had her own household distinct from her husband’s. After her husband’s death and her son’s accession she procured for herself very substantial tracts of land. This demonstrated, in the writer’s view, that female emancipation was not strictly linear – women of Cecily’s time wielded significantly more power than their Victorian or even later counterparts.

I asked Garthwaite what she thought of Cecily’s portrayal by Caroline Goodall in The White Queen and The White Princess** – the only instance I knew of her being played on television besides adaptations of Shakespeare plays. She replied that she had not seen either series and never passed judgement on other writers, but credited Philippa Gregory with renewing public interest in that era of history. Spencer chimed in that Cecily came across as a powerful person and that “It was a weird series but there were a few outstanding performances and I thought she was very good.”. Garthwaite said that while writing her own book she could not read anyone else’s historical fiction for fear of getting their thoughts mixed up with her own. This reminded me of Daisy Goodwin, writer of ITV’s Victoria, saying she would not watch The Crown to keep her own work independent and avoid plagiarism allegations.

The congregation then began to disperse but the session was kept open for a few more minutes so that members could scribble down contact details. I plugged my blog verbally for the first time, though I wish I had got in a moment earlier as by then there were only six out of thirty-one other people still logged in.

I have read and heard about the Richard III Society before but this was my first time directly interacting with its members. I hope there may be more.

*Inevitably, for a fully-detailed family tree for the Plantagenets, Beauforts, Nevilles and Mortimers would require multiple dimensions and still look tangled.

**Notably she was the only character not to be recast, perhaps because she was already an old woman when the first series started and so did not need to be aged up.

Advocate General to Moderator

The Lord Wallace of Tankerness recently took office as Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, having previously served as Liberal Democrat Chief Whip in the House of Commons, Deputy Leader of the House of Lords and Acting First Minister of Scotland. Today I attended a virtual interview that he gave for the Lawyers’ Christian Fellowship.

Not being a lawyer, a Christian or a Scot but merely an Eventbrite-addict, I wondered if I might be asked to introduce myself and then induce some confused looks from the others, but thankfully that did not occur. At the end of the prepared questions the host (Janys M. Scott) opened the floor to other attendees, and I asked his lordship:

As someone who has been a senior figure in both Holyrood and Westminster, what would you say are the main differences – if there are any – between how England and Scotland involve religion in politics and public life?

Wallace said that in both parliaments he knew practicing Christians who brought their faith into their work and it would be wrong to suggest that one had a higher religious standing than the other. In the House of Commons it was sometimes more formalised: Every day would begin with Psalm 67 followed by the same prayers. The only change during his tenure as an MP was that following her divorce the Princess of Wales was omitted from the prayer, though Wallace and others believed that this was the time at which she would have needed divine assistance more than ever. He believed that the “time for reflection” in the Scottish Parliament, which as always faith-based but not always Christian, was more personally useful. In particular he felt there had been “something missing” in the way that after John Smith’s death the daily prayers had not made any reference to him or his family.

The session concluded with Wallace himself reading a prayer. I was grateful for the non-functionality of my own webcam as it spared me from the awkwardness of working whether it was appropriate to bow at that point, or indeed to wave at the other participants. I also attempted yet again to plug this blog in the chat box just before the connection terminated, though its relevance to this group was rather less obvious than to the heraldists with whom I more frequently congregate.

During the course of the session I looked through the list of other guests and found, as one would expect, many prominent representatives of the Scottish legal profession. The name that stuck out most obviously was Brian Gill, former President of the Court of Session, whose Wikipedia page I had only last month graced with a photograph.