The learned word for the study of flags is "vexillology". Had we been told that it shares its roots with "vexation", it wouldn't have surprised us at all, living as we do just down the road from a region where the interpretation of "flegs'n'omblums" is a deadly serious business.
But in fact, it goes back to the "vexillum", the special distinctive banner-flag carried by the Roman legions, which thereby became a clear symbol to all those peace-loving primitive tribes, getting on with their idyllic back-to-nature lives out in the boondocks, that trouble was on the way.
Since then, we've been right through the mill with the manifestations of vexillating. And certainly, there was a time when having a clear flag-like symbol was very important indeed, in all those ages when mankind was blighted by poor communications, untreatable deafness, and lousy eyesight.
It goes some way to explain why many wind-driven warships of the olden days used to head off for battle flying distinctive ensigns which were often much larger than many of their sails. For it was bad enough having to engage with the enemy, but having your rig shot away by some half-blind crew who were supposed to be on your side could ruin your entire day.
The Marquis of Conyngham, first Commodore of the Royal St George Yacht Club from 1845-1862.
So it was only natural as the early yacht clubs got going - with all their recreational versions of naval behaviour and style – that flags should immediately be playing an important role, with flag etiquette top of many an inter-club agenda.
That it all could become a pernickety and contentious affair was inevitable, and as vexillology got into its nautical stride during the 19th Century, as sure as God made little apples there was trouble in Ireland. Until the mid-1840s, several of the clubs with a royal warrants were entitled to fly the white ensign of the Royal Navy. But some busybody in the Admiralty decided this wouldn't do, and the word went out to all relevant clubs, except the favoured Royal Yacht Squadron, that the practice was to cease immediately.
Unfortunately, this general order overlooked the fact that the Royal Western of Ireland Yacht Club was still in existence, albeit in a parlous way. The irony of it all was that when the white ensigns were being dished out around 1831, the RWIYC said that they'd actually prefer to have a green version of the white ensign, if that were possible, but were told it most emphatically wasn't.
Yet when their few remaining yachts still flying the white ensign in the 1850s were tracked down, they fought like terriers (admittedly rather aged terriers by then) to retain the privilege. We could continue with this sideline story for ever, but suffice to say that, in the ultimate irony, hidden in a corner of the snooker room of the Royal Ulster YC, there's an ancient green RWIYC ensign on discreet display……
A unique flag in many ways – the Marquis of Conyngham's well-used 1847 RStGYC ensign is up for auction on April 13th
Meanwhile, a reminder of the vexillologically disputatious days of the 1840s has come to light with collector and auctioneer Niall Mullen flagging – how else? - an online sale in association with Victor Mee on April 13th & 14th, in which one of the more intriguing items will be the personal 1847 ensign of the first Commodore of the Royal St George Yacht Club, the Marquis of Conyngham.
At the time, the club was in the process of settling into being known as the Royal St George's YC – soon to be the plain Royal St George – where previously it had been the Royal Kingstown Yacht Club. But equally, there was some to-ing and fro-ing as to the form its ensign should take under the new Admiralty dispensations.
Thus it's just possible that with his simple red ensign with its symbol-defaced union flag on the top left-hand corner, the often-absent Commodore was showing what he thought the new flag should be like. But back in Kingstown, the Committee had their own ideas, as revealed in the history of the Club published in 1988, which suggests that many members wished to continue with the established flags.
The historic flags of the Royal St George YC/Royal Kingstown YC, as collated in 1847 and published in the Club History in 1988, its 150th Anniversary. The club's own version of the ensign is markedly different from that flown by their first Commodore, but subsequently the agreed ensign became simpler, defaced by a crown on the red ground in the lower right quarter
Central to its page displaying the relevant flags is an ensign of red ground with a superimposed white St George's Cross, and the plain union flag top left. Doubtless qualified vexillologists will have their technical terms for every aspect of the design, but all it indicates to us simple souls is that in 1847, the Commodore of the Royal St George YC may have had one notion of what the club ensign should be like, while the Committee perhaps had another.
It's clear evidence of – how shall we say – a difference of opinion which might provide some added value, for although it has come direct from Slane Castle, it is very modestly guided at €1,000 to €2,000. That said, according to one newspaper preview of the sale, the ensign is accompanied by a letter of provenance from the "Royal Marine Museum" in Dun Laoghaire. That sounds like it might be a lot of fun if only such a place existed, but maybe the National Maritime Museum in Dun Laoghaire has clarified the matter.
Be that as it may, another item in the sale might also be of interest. It's a Tibetan kangling, or leg flute. It's so called not because you somehow play it by leg, but because it's made from the thigh bone of a Tibetan mountainy man. As the rest of the mountainy man is no longer attached, it's modestly guided at €400-€600.
