St. George’s Day
Today is April 23rd, St. George’s Day.
St. George is the patron saint of England (and Dalmatia, Catalonia, Georgia and so on).
It should clearly be a bank holiday in England (as should St. David’s Day in Wales and St. Andrew’s Day in Scotland) but it isn’t.
In fact 37% of Brits in a recent YouGov poll had no idea when St. George’s Day was.
But they did know what they associated with England. Here’s the list in order:
The Monarchy
Fish & Chips
Shakespeare
Roast Beef
Cricket
Pint of bitter
Red rose
Cream teas
Stately homes
Imperial past
Overcrowding
Morris dancing
Bluebells
Warrior race
Chicken tikka masala
So what do I, a London Welshman, think about this list? It’s pretty much spot on, old bean, except I’d probably put the English language at the top of the list.
Now here’s my take on Scotland:
Haggis
Kilts
Bagpipes
Whisky
Scottish Baronial architecture
Parsimony
And Ireland:
Shamrocks
Guinness
Green
Fighting
Drink
Rain
And my beloved Wales:
Chapels
Rugby
Daffodils
Fair play
Choirs
Welsh language
There’s a list of national stereotypes, eh? I’ll be done for racism if I don’t watch out. Notice there’s no mention of Ireland’s Celtic Tiger wirtschaftswunder, modern Scottish architecture or Wales’s position at the hub of the digital universe (I wish). Tourists don’t come to see our jolly politicians, the multi-cultural celebrations of Britain’s immigrants or our busy daily lives, they come to see our heritage.
And that’s what comes to mind first of all.
April 24th, 2008 at 11:30
I have strong feelings about St George’s Day, and it sometimes gets me into trouble. I am English, and proud of the fact, though the way this country is going, less so each day. I am also proud to be British, feeling an affinity with my Welsh, Scottish and Irish friends, of which I have many. More than that though, I am proud to be European. None of us can escape our European roots, culture or geographical connections, though many people foolishly try.
Getting back to St George’s Day though. I have always had a problem with the choice of St George as our patron saint. There is no definite proof that St George ever actually existed, though it is generally accepted that he was a Turkish mercenary who fought in the Roman army in the 3rd and 4th centuries, being executed by Diocletian in 303AD for not renouncing his Christianity. There are also ideas that he may have been confused with Arian George of Cappadocia(according to Gibbon).
Whatever the truth concerning St George’s identity, the fact that he never visited England, which didn’t even exist as a country at that time would appear to make him an inappropriate figure for so much English adoration, added to the fact that having religious connotations alienates him from a very large section of present day English men and women, who live in an ever increasingly secular England.
My thoughts are that we should have as our English Patron(not Saint), someone who encapsulates Englishness, without any trace of overt nationalism, which is a very dangerous thing. A little known fact is that William Shakespeare died on St George’s Day in 1616. His birthday is also celebrated on the same day(1564), though whether that is because that was his birthday, or whether his birthday was unknown, I have no idea. My point though, is that William Shakespeare was English, lived in England, wrote about English life and people, left us with the most phenomenally beautiful prose and literature, that is as popular today as it was four centuries ago, in addition to spreading the fame of both himself and his literature around the globe.
William Shakespeare is a perfect role model for a patron of England, not raising the spectres of dangerous nationalism or religion, thus making him acceptable to all English people.
On a lighter note, what does England and Englishness mean to me?.
The English Language. Though evolving through the centuries, incorporating bits of Latin, Roman, French, German, Scandinavian and other diverse languages, the end result is a language of sublime beauty and with so many nuances.
My other favourite things which evoke my Englishness?.
The music of Vaughan Williams and Delius.
The poetry of Wordsworth, Keats, Browning et al.
Birdsong,
Lying on my back, looking at a blue sky with wispy clouds slowly floating across my vision, and the sound of a skylark singing it’s little heart out, before falling silently to earth, only to once more ascend and commence it’s joyous song. How many schoolboy hours in the 1950s did I spend doing that?.
Cricket. As close as I’ll ever come to having a religion.
Real Ale. As much as I love Europe, and travelling, nowhere else produces beer like us. Only Belgium comes close(ish)
Strawberries, sugar and cream.
The gently rolling hills of Southern England.
Butterflies and fields of poppies and horse daisies. Sadly, very few of these left now.
My England is a beautiful one and a gentle one. Reality may be somewhat different, but that is the vision I hold in my heart.
April 24th, 2008 at 11:52
Mick, you’re a poet and a romantic, as well as a fine photographer. And there’s damn few of us left. Except I’m no photographer!