Very British families all…

these Trevelyans & Gladstones

From The Observer (via The Guardian website), a report that members of the Gladstone family – that is, descendants of Sir John Gladstone – will travel in the next days to Guyana to apologize for their historical involvement in slavery in the region and, presumably, offer some reparations. The Guardian wouldn’t of course be The Guardian if it didn’t immediately shift the focus from Sir John to his son, William (UK Prime Minister on no less than four occasions in the last half of the 19th century), and thereby to the UK government – Liberal, Tory what’s the difference? – and the Royal Family but of course! Fair enough, on their (that is, The Guardian’s) part – though so bleedin’ obvious.

In his earlier parliamentary years, the younger Gladstone appears not to have been critical of the plantation and slave system in the Caribbean nor his family’s involvement, and, whilst he accepted the 1833 Abolition of Slavery Act, he did so only on the proviso of a gradual emancipation (in their best interest, of course! – a viewpoint more than just paternalistic, rather coming from a place we would recognize as based on racist assumptions) and the adequate compensation of slave owners (of which his father became a prominent beneficiary). Later, as Prime Minister, his record is more mixed – on one hand he seems to have ’emancipated himself’ from his father by supporting international trade reforms that prioritized anti-slave companies, on the other, during the American Civil War, his support of the Union effort was tepid (he presumably thought the Confederacy would win). When it’s all said and done though, it would be fair to conclude that William Gladstone had more moral character than his father.

That, a digression, off the top of my head and with a quick – very quick – internet search; not terribly satisfactory but to continue I would need to do a more thorough research into the political history of the UK during this period and, more specifically, the anti-slavery movement and its consequences for the greater politic. I will say though that I find it commendable that there is a generation living now, and beyond academia, taking familial baggage upon themselves. Whose to say – and I can not presume to, only to wonder out loud – where self-interest in terms of reputation and the psychological burden of history – the sins of the fathers – ends and genuine moral atonement begins. And it is not just the Gladstones: of course the Windsors and all its preceding and related nomenclatures (the King has stated his support of a review into the Crown’s responsibilities); the Harewood/Lascelles (an unusual making good described here); The Guardian ‘family’; but, also, for instance, the Trevelyan family with whom I have found myself spending time of late.

Earlier this year, members of the Trevelyan family traveled to Grenada to apologize for its historic ownership of slaves and for the compensation it received in the wake of the abolition of slavery. One of those was the former BBC journalist, Laura Trevelyan, and her report on the event can be read here. Presumably their family’s involvement in the dark side of colonialism, is all very new to its members, and only came to light when two of them (John Dower and Humphrey Trevelyan) were trawling a database. What information it was, and from whom, instigated the family’s investigation after all this time is not divulged, but one can presume it was externally motivated. Certainly, it is only relatively recently that academia – and a new generation of academics – have forced the issue in a big way. (And the media has played its part – something like this, for instance, which makes mention of the stately home gifted to the National Trust by C.P Trevelyan.) And, I don’t suppose it matters. But ignorance does matter. Granted, no PM in their tree like in the Gladstone’s, but a Trevelyan did ‘kind of’ invent the modern civil service of the nineteenth century, and they are an extraordinarily storied British family. Seriously, why, given the privileges many of them still have to this day, did so few in the family previously have much of an interest in their forebears? Well, perhaps not, but … In her introduction to a book she wrote about her family in 2006, titled A Very British Family, at least Laura Trevelyan outs herself in genealogical ignorance and moves to rectify this. But, it should be said, she must not have delved too deep. I have only browsed her book (I would warrant, knowing what she knows now, she may like it to disappear), but from what I can see, slavery comes to the fore only in the positive context of abolitionism and the Clapham Sect. And, more broadly, colonialism gets somewhat of a pass. (Diverging, nor does she seem to have come across Gertrude, but then Trevelyan’s focus was on her immediate family.)

Having started with the Gladstones, I will end with them in union with the Trevelyans in the latter half of the 19th century. Sir George Otto Trevelyan (the father of C.P, R.C. & G.M), though a generation or so younger, was in fact a constant in William Gladstone’s government(s) throughout much of his long period(s) in office, but was not born at the time the young parliamentarian Gladstone argued as an apologist for his father and other plantation and slave owners (the Trevelyan family, for instance) and their right to compensation in the wake of abolition. Two men bound politically, but also bound by their respective family interests. It reminds one how very resilient family loyalties are – whether emotional or mercenary or both – and how very often they trump reason and seek to mitigate great injustices. One could say nobody should have to pay for the sins of the fathers, but those very bonds, and the acceptance of them, suggests otherwise – inheritance can not be selective, it’s all or nothing.

Coronation Cavalcade

Saturday 6th May 2023.

From my childhood I remember a large red tome embossed with crowns. I also remember its name (or think I do): Coronation Cavalcade. Having come across it during a juvenile rummage around, I remember thinking it to have been published in commemoration of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in 1953; this probably suggested to me by reliable sources, and I have no reason to believe that was not so. It was chock a block full of black and white photos from that day but also from the young Queen’s childhood and formative years, and there were lots of words too on that shiny paper once favored for such books. There was only one color plate: a frontispiece of the newly crowned monarch in her coronation regalia. (It may well have been like this one.)

There was a fold out royal genealogy attached to the inside cover to which my mother had neatly inked in further unions (she didn’t live to see the procession of dissolutions!) and progeny. My mother was of the Queen’s generation and very much a royalist. Not a silly, fawning sort, mind, but a traditionalist just the same. (And, she did have a sort of ‘queen’ look and disposition: there were hats and gloves and handbags, she loved horses and dogs and the Anglican Church…) What she did not have in common with the Queen was a long life. What happened to that book I don’t know, or even whether I am misremembering all I have just said.

So this day, the Coronation Day of King Charles III, was spent in a state of trying to rise above a surge of sentimentality – and not succeeding , instead being swept along in the moment, nourished with tea and scones and the temptation of nostalgia. The public spectacle was awesome (despite the inclement weather, and what I thought to be my original word play on “…long may he reign [sic] over us…” ) but I was most moved by the very personal emotions that the event stirred – memories and childhood, people and places lost.

A couple of weeks have now passed. What remains (other than a renewed penchant for the much maligned scone)? This newly cast Royal Family – modest now in number, with a more modern agenda – has been dutifully going about their business. Looking good. Doing what they do. Only Time will decide whether the House of Windsor and its hereditary monarchy will continue in its constitutional role in British life. My own Re:publican sympathies are not to be denied, but the ancient isles must decide their own fate. And, that, something which they do with exceptional regularity one has to say!

Just another day in SW1

Each aerial view of each mini-cavalcade of darkened Land Rovers led by outriders in royal blue and luminous yellow brings one near to all that topography of land clustered tight, then precisely coded, within the celebrated London environs of SW1; compressed there within its borders all the ruling powers of a kingdom.

The Postcodes Project – SW1: Belgravia, Brompton, Millbank, Pimlico, St James’s, Victoria, Westminster

A neck of the woods that I know well, albeit from from the vantage point of another SW (storied also but where real people live – or once lived) and from halcyon days long gone, but few I would say have ever journeyed these fabled routes, either actually or on the wings of imagination, as many have done in most recent times gone – as the late summer of 2022 turns to autumn, as a monarch departs the mortal world and another ascends to her place, as a Prime Minister goes and another comes, and as a Prime Minister goes and another comes. I am not repeating myself! Blink and history was there just waiting to be missed.

On Thursday, after 44 (!) days in office, Liz Truss announced her resignation, and today this found its formal conclusion in the requisite audience with King Charles III at Buckingham Palace and, shortly thereafter, Rishi Sunak, the newly elected [sic] leader of the Conservative Party, being invited by the King to be his Prime Minister.

From memory: After the wheels finally fell off Boris Johnson’s government at the beginning July, a convoluted process for the leadership of the Tories began with the whittling down to two contenders – Truss and … yes, Sunak! – and continued through the summer with a series of so-called “hustings”. Sunak was favored by conservative parliamentarians and Truss by Party members and, yes, the latter trumped the former. Two days after receiving Johnson and Truss (not in SW1, but Balmoral – for reasons which were sadly to become clear) and doing that which the monarch is anointed to do, the Queen died. Granted, an interrupted start extraordinaire but then Truss seemed to tout the powers of disruption. All very well, one could say, but did she not know that in times of global crisis markets and their makers crave at least the promise of stability. In a matter of weeks a complete economic framework, misguidedly constructed on a toxic mix of low taxes and high borrowing lay in shambles, and with it Liz Trusses job and reputation.

And so it was, this time round, in just a few days, and with Boris Johnson returning with fanfare from a Caribbean jaunt, the Tories heaped on the wearied Brits another leadership “election”! More skillfully modified this time round, with a set of rules that would, with any luck and some reason, circumvent interference from pesky Members. And in the end, so it did: Bojo knew when to fold, as did, albeit at the last moment, another penny pretender (called Mordaunt), and Rishi Rich was left holding the winning hand. Like democracy is a game of poker!

Wikipedia has an entry with the title October 2022 United Kingdom government crisis where you and I both can check the chronology of events, whereby they helpfully suggest in the header that this “Not […] be confused with July 2022 United Kingdom government crisis.” !

On Rishi Sunak, putting aside the politics, it should be said that he is the first Prime Minister from an ethnic background (okay, there is the Disraeli exception – not quite the same thing I would suggest) – his parents, of Punjabi descent, migrated to the UK from eastern Africa in the 1960s; married to the daughter of an Indian tech. billionaire (with modest beginnings); a practicing Hindu. In other words, a biography, irrespective of the advantages granted to him by good fortune, and fortune, that only a very few years ago would have made a rise to the highest echelons of power almost inconceivable. Meritocracy sometimes works it seems. A remarkable story in many respects, and that Sunak’s success should correspond with Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Light, and in this year that remembers the end of the Raj and the 75th anniversary of Indian independence, is highly symbolic and one of those strange quirks of fate.

When the processing is over

All good things come to an end – earthly lives, sovereign reigns, civil queues, cavalcades and processions. And so, yesterday, did all of those as they relate to the life and death of Queen Elizabeth II. Some say people pass – away, on, to the other side, whatever – but I say it is Time that passes, and we all just the accompaniment – irrespective of our stand in this life.

Queen Elizabeth II’s Funeral Procession leaving Westminster Abbey after the state funeral (19.Sep.2022)

Culminating with a State Funeral at Westminster Abbey and a Committal Service followed by a private interment at Windsor – with all the intermittent comings and goings and spectacular processing – these few days since the Queen’s death on 8th September have been extraordinary to watch (thank god for the BBC; this hopefully to be remembered when the license fee debate reemerges as it surely will); the precision of events, the organization, all just awesome to behold (the tainted reputation of Diana’s infamous “grey suits ” – embraced it has to be said by the Sussexes – suddenly and probably temporarily rehabilitated). Beyond the personal and collective grief displayed with abandon, the fair-minded and inquisitive observer has been initiated in a multitude of historical and constitutional rites and rituals. For instance, the so-called Accession Council’s formal proclamation of the death of one monarch and the accession of the new – the Privy Council given a public airing. Or those final moments in St. George’s Chapel when the crown, scepter and orb were removed from atop the Queen’s coffin to be replaced by the Lord Chamberlains’ broken wand, then to be lowered to the lament of a lone piper into the vault.

I dare say there is such a thing as being too captive to tradition, but there is also something to be said for the consoling power of ritual and the promise of continuity offered by tradition and precedent. And, if one is (as I often am) in awe of the British talent for theater, it has to be admitted that the occupants of successive Royal Households right up to the Windsors have more than played their role.

Every corner of the medial landscape is strewn with words and images from the last week or so – some appropriate, some not so. For something a little different amongst various degrees of sentimentality and silliness, A.N. Wilson’s piece in The Spectator is a sensible contribution (if you can get it…by which I mean circumvent the paywall) and on a more scholarly note, I let some literary and academic voices from the UK, speak on their (Her) Majesty on Radio 4 – you can’t say HM’s broadcaster was not prepared for these days of passing.

The Queen

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II – The Queen – died yesterday at Balmoral. Ancient isles morn – as do I, for she was my Queen too; as a child of the realm, she a presence in my entire life. The Queen offered constancy and dignity in an ever changing and fractious world – for seventy years and in places far flung. As with many who have long harbored republican sentiments and just as long lived in denial of her mortal state, I too have been taken aback by the welling of emotion that the Queen’s death has summoned from deep within. Psychologically, unresolved “mummy issues” comes to mind to explain what I can only identify as an overly sentimental reaction on my part. But I have already noted an abundance of, shall we say, rational persons of standing, of, shall we say, approximately my age, mentioning how much the Queen reminded them of their mother. And I don’t think they are talking about physical resemblance or occupational or situative dispositions but, rather what, until yesterday, was the living, breathing symbolism for an entire generation, an epoch.

So, the second Elizabethan age ends, and that of King Charles III begins; a new era (called what? Caroline? Carolean?) to be observed with less baggage, greater distance, less emotional attachment, but perhaps more rigorous intellectual curiosity. And that cannot be a bad thing.

Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II – born 21st April 1926, died 8th September 2022
The newly crowned Queen Elizabeth II at Westminster Abbey in London, 1953. Photograph: STF/AFP/Getty Images