THE lord chancellor has been described in many ways through history, but one account stands out. “His position is older than democracy,” a historian wrote. “[It is] older than parliament, older than Magna Carta, older than the Norman Conquest.” Nowhere is this legacy more apparent than in the lord chancellor's swearing-in ceremony, which took place on Friday at Royal Courts of Justice in London.

The new appointee, Ken Clarke, made his entrance to the court flanked by a series of men with weird and wonderful titles including the clerk of the crown and a gold mace-wielding assistant serjeant-at-arms. The procession was also an opportunity for a rare sighting of a 'purse-bearer' — most of whose outings in England are confined to state openings of parliament.

Then there were the outfits. It may not have been his intention, but the one thing Jack Straw, the last holder of the office, will be remembered for among staff at the Royal Courts of Justice is refusing to wear his shoulder-length wig.

There was no such rejection of tradition by Clarke, who looked perfectly at home in his wig, elaborate lace collar and gold brocade gown complete with silk stockings and brogues.

The procession made its way to the lord chief justice's court, which was packed from floor to gallery with the buzz of judicial gossip as the ranks of high court and court of appeal judges crowded round the bench.

After much deep bowing, Clarke took his seat beside the lord chief justice, Sir Igor Judge, and the heads of division of the most senior courts in England and Wales. The dizzying spectacle of so many senior judges in such a small space was almost too much for some of the audience.

On a bench at the back of the court, two women who work as clerks for lord justices of appeal were arguing over which was the most lovable. “Oooh, look there's Lord Justice Laws,” one said. “He is definitely my favourite.” “No, I like Lord Justice Jackson,” said another. “There he is,” pointing to the indistinguishable crowd of men in gold brocade gowns and long wigs at the front of the room.

Two men complained about the budgetary implications of current robe policy. “Of course, now every judge gets a brand new robe,” said one, to the tut-tutting disapproval of his neighbour.

Protecting the courts' budgets is in fact a key part of the lord chancellor's role, reflected in the oath, which involves swearing to “discharge my duty to ensure the provision of resources for the efficient and effective support of the courts for which I am responsible”.

— The Guardian, London