Brandishing Seaxes

With rain delaying the start of play on the third day of the recent Lords Test against the West Indies, I retired to the Middlesex Room with the brother-in-law for a cup of coffee (yes, honestly it was coffee - and not very good coffee at that). "Why do Middlesex use the same three swords as Essex?", he asked. "I'll look into it" I replied, little knowing that I was about to enter a heraldic minefield.

Leaving the early Saxon kings aside (which I cheerfully do), it wasn't until the twentieth century when the two counties had their coats of arms specified - in very non-20th century terms.

Essex: Gules three Seaxes fessewise in pale Argent pomels and hilts Or points to the sinister and cutting edges upwards.

Middlesex: Gules three Seaxes fessewise in pale proper pommelled and hilted Or points to the sinister and cutting edge upwards in chief a Saxon Crown of the last.

Obviously both counties identified with the three-seaxe badge, and both are left-handed counties as well, and both signed up for the red (gules) background. Thus the only difference is that Middlesex was to have a saxon crown over their three seaxes in order to differentiate. And over the years it seems that Middlesex just got lazy (or republican) and the crown disappeared.

Commentators on all this have included Germaine Greer whose 2003 Telegraph article concluded that the three seaxes charged on a field of blood is indicative of the counties grim joy of fighting. The device could be printed on the breast of every T-shirt worn by every hooligan from Essex or Middlesex. Ah well, sadly I'll miss the gladiatorial Twenty20 contest between the Essex Eagles (okay, so the Eagle is the regimental emblem) versus the Middlesex Panthers (yes, the team wears pink pyjamas in support of the breast cancer campaign) at Lords on 26th June, but I might try to catch the Chelmsford encounter four days earlier.