On April 23, at 7:29am, Keir Starmer, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, told his 2.2 million followers on X that “today, we fly our flag proudly and we’re reminded of the values it represents – service, generosity and respect.” Lest there be any doubt as to which flag he was paying homage, the comment was followed with “Happy St George’s Day!”
As endearing as Keir Starmer’s public flirtation with nationalism may be, St George’s Day is a shadow of its former self. In comparison with the national celebrations and general merriment of earlier centuries, a tweet is underwhelming. The official @10DowningStreet account did go as far as posting a short, uninformative video in commemoration of the Saint; however, a similar video had been posted the week before wishing “everyone celebrating a happy Nepali New Year”.
The return of the cult of St George, in full liturgical observance and cultural pomp, would likely give the country a powerful civic booster, as well as a recovery of its spiritual nerve.
While Keir Starmer can be blamed for some of the social ills of England, the demise of St George’s Day does not fall on only his shoulders. The rise and fall of England’s saintly culture predates his premiership and finds its origins in more ecclesiastical affairs.
St George, a Roman soldier of good Christian stock, was born in Cappadocia, in modern-day Turkey in 275 AD. He spent much of his life under the Emperor Diocletian, who retired shortly after his death, reportedly preferring to garden rather than rule. The Diocletianic persecution, the last and most severe persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire, attempted to force the empire’s Christian population to renounce their faith and offer sacrifice to the Roman gods or face execution. Preferring death to apostasy, St George died a martyr’s death.
It was not until the 12th century that devotion to St George took hold in England. Returning from the Third Crusade, stories circulated about his power, and he was adopted as a military patron. In 1222, the Synod of Oxford declared St George’s Day a feast day in England, and in 1348, under Edward III, the newly founded Order of the Garter was placed under his patronage, effectively securing his status as patron of England.
In 1415, at the Battle of Agincourt, soldiers fought under the red cross of St George, invoking his name as they entered battle, or, as Shakespeare later put it: “God for Harry, England and Saint George!” (Henry V, Act III, Scene I). Henry V’s army was weary and outnumbered, and England’s eventual triumph was widely accredited to the intercession of St George.
The Sarum Missal, England’s medieval variant of the Roman Rite, places St George’s Day within the liturgical calendar as a recognised celebration, sometimes treated as a major feast, with proper prayers and chants assigned to the saint. The Order of the Garter marked the feast with particular solemnity, at times extending its observance to an octave. These liturgical celebrations were accompanied by towns and villages organising processions, plays, pageants and feasts. In the full life of medieval England, the country’s patron was publicly honoured.
The demise of such celebrations has its roots in the Reformation. The Sarum liturgy was replaced by the Book of Common Prayer, and the proper Mass for St George gave way to a simple commemoration in the calendar, with the feast stripped of its former liturgical prominence and public ceremonial life. Over the following centuries, the processions and pageantry ceased, the guilds were dissolved, and St George receded from public life. Today, according to the Prime Minister, a single tweet suffices.
Much has been made of the need for a renewed patriotism across the land of Mary’s Dowry, but little has been said about how this might be achieved. For a true rejuvenation of English identity, the best place to start would be to honour its patron.
