It is worth mentioning that colours are often modified or altered to keep abreast with changing circumstances; new ones are not always provided the moment they become obsolete in one or more small particulars. The same writer from whom we just quoted describes the changes which the standard of the Coldstream Guards underwent during a period of some sixteen years. “When originally made, ... the central garter star (i.e., the regimental badge) and the wreath richly embroidered in gold bullion, but without the shamrock, and possibly the crown, were all that appeared on the plain crimson silk ground. The union with Ireland, 1801, necessitated the introduction of the shamrocks ... they have been squeezed into places when scarcely room could be found for them. ‘Egypt’ and the ‘Sphinx’ having been authorised, they would probably be added at the same time, ‘Egypt’ on a blue silk label, immediately under the wreath, the ‘Sphinx’ within a laurel wreath of gold embroidery, in all the four corners. The standard continued in this state until 1814, when the honours, ‘Lincelles, Talavera, Barrosa,’ were authorised to be used by the regiment. Consequently, they were added in gold twist letters, on the crimson ground. Two more honours, ‘Peninsula and Waterloo,’ were further authorised in 1815-16, and added soon after on crimson silk (some trouble must have been occasioned in fitting the two last into their places, so little room being left).”[[7]]
As time made the warrants of 1743 and 1747 more and more antiquated, we find that regimental commanders took ever increasing liberties with the regulations set down in those documents. To check such departures, a Mr. George Naylor, the then York Herald, an appointment in the College of Arms, was given the post of inspector of regimental colours in the year 1806. One of Mr. Naylor’s first actions was to issue a leaflet, which he sent to every commanding officer, setting out certain rules of paramount importance. The leaflet also gave a representation of both the King’s and regimental colours, showing a blank central cartouche. This, he intimated, was the standard pattern, and each commanding officer was requested to fill in the details which were particular to his own flags and return them for purposes of filing. The designs which came back to Mr. Naylor clearly pointed to the lack of uniformity which had sprung up in the preparation of colours. Many flags had been worked by ladies of title who were patrons of the local unit, the daughters of the commanding officers, and other such people, whose qualifications to embroider were greater than their understanding of heraldry. To Mr. Naylor, who knew what each flag should have borne, the designs must frankly have been disappointing. In some cases, the Egyptian Sphinx faced right instead of left; in others, it filled the space reserved for the central badge; one instance is known where this device was used as an ornament to cap the staff, and so heavily was it cast in silver that those who carried it were “under the necessity of unscrewing it when the regiment began to move”; a laurel wreath instead of the union wreath was another substituted design. One of the filled-in designs returned to the College of Arms showed a very dilapidated flag, but the covering letter explained that, “the George and Dragon has nearly disappeared from our King’s colour by a shell passing through it, though I trust his spirit is left amongst us.”
The period following on the peace which came with the victory of Waterloo proved of great activity in the world of military colours. The old flags had seen much active service and had become worn and torn, some had been stripped from their supports in a moment of crisis and hidden, whilst a few fell from the hands of their possessors and became lost. Also, we must not forget that many new battle honours had been recently won, and the fixing of these distinctions would always be an unwise action when the flags were showing signs of wear. Accordingly, the regiments which were provided with new stands at this time were considerable.
The post-Waterloo period was marked by the disappearance of the central heart-shaped shield (Figs. 7 and 8) in favour of a circle of red silk, which was divided into a ring and an inner circle, the first for taking the territorial designation of the regiment, and the second for showing the regimental badge or number. (It should, perhaps, be stated that royal regiments and those with higher numbers than seventy seldom possessed territorial designations at this time.) The central circle and ring of crimson have remained until this day. Roman gave place to Arabic numerals, but the latter have since died out; the wreath became a little more elaborate, for buds and extra leaves were introduced, and the sphinx was definitely placed below the chief badge. A word must be said respecting the battle honours; these were fixed in almost any position and combination and no rules were followed, partly because the number of honours varied with each regiment and partly because few regiments possessed sufficient to work up into a universal pattern. Not many of the banners of this time were painted, but, of course, the Foot Guards formed a notable exception. When a line regiment flew a painted flag, it was somewhat despised, and the inspection report was worded in a condemning spirit. Here is an example: “Colours only three years in use, much injured from the circumstance of the arms and ornaments being painted.”
Another era of laxity sprang up about 1830. Colours issued at this time displayed many departures from the general rules. Arabic numerals once more found favour for denoting the regimental numbers, county titles were often missing, the wreath became more fanciful, and in one case, the Northumberland Fusiliers, the badge of St. George and the Dragon was encircled by the union wreath, the central crimson circle being entirely missing. Honours were commonly inscribed on the King’s colours, which was decidedly wrong.
The swing of the pendulum came in 1844, for in that year an order issued from the Horse Guards decreed that battle honours were not to figure on the King’s or Queen’s colours, nothing was to be placed on them beyond the regimental designation and the imperial crown. This decision, which did not apply to the Foot Guards, as they have always been a law unto themselves, was lamented by many people, as it robbed these colours of much of their splendour. Milne thinks that the edict was issued because battle honours were fast growing in number, and if many of these were sewn on to a jack which was already a combination of seams and stitches the results would be disastrous in partly worn specimens.
At this point we must go back to the years which followed Waterloo, to discuss the standards of the Cavalry. The Hussar regiments had discarded them completely, and most, if not all, of the Lancers had done the same. No Hussars or Lancers possess them to-day, but, of course, their drum banners serve to display their arms and appointments.