The Crown

 

The Crown

 Big decision; with the arrival of the last series of the above, on Netflix, I decided to Start Again and go back to the beginning of this highly popular series, some of which I hadn’t seen anyway. I had certainly forgotten how excellent was the casting and acting; exemplary both. Beautiful costumes, gorgeous sets, timeless pageantry, a stellar cast, salacious stories, all made the earlier seasons of Netflix's The Crown appealing.[I am currently on Series 3.] I particularly like the mixture of royal personal drama and real life world events, and the principal idea of one set of actors to depict one decade or so of the monarch's life, does work well especially when on can stop oneself from comparing the actors in different series.

Claire Foy, the younger Elizabeth and 
Olivia Colman, the older Queen.

Is Helena Bonham-Carter a better Princess Margaret than ? Also, with no expertise in my spectator eyes and judgement, I had to banish queries/comments such as, “Surely ‘playing’ the Duke of Windsor is a bit of a waste of the talents of our leading actor, Derek Jacobi?”

The Duke of Edinburgh.
Matt Smith and Tobias Menzies

I also felt newly-sympathetic to the boy Charles whom one had always suspected had been sent away to, and kept at, Gordonstoun in Scotland despite its total unsuitability as a physically tough, experimental school and quasi home for a quiet, sensitive but famous child with no interests whatsoever in manly sports and rugged challenges. He did later say it had been hell for seven years and described the place as, “Colditz in kilts.” But he never publicly blamed his father for the seven year penal sentence during which the Duke of Edinburgh had vainly hoped would “make a man” out of Charles. It did remind me of a remark many, many years ago from a social worker in my family, that ‘had the Windsors been of a different social status, they would have certainly had to have had their own assigned social worker. ‘

Princess Margaret
played by
Helena Bonham-Carter and Vanessa Kirby

My interest in blogging about The Crown is not to supply an unnecessary review but rather because, as I have watched it, I have become increasingly aware of how very silly life at court, is. I haven’t really thought about the monarchy in any focussed way during my long life; I have judged and sympathised in a mildly disinterested way, with its contemporary victims, like Margaret and Peter Townsend; Charles as a boy at Gordonstoun; Diana at times, despite her own needy behaviour; and the Queen during the early marriage when rumours of inappropriate behaviour from Philip surfaced occasionally. But the Crown’s reconstruction of life at court has demonstrated the wholly outdated notion of deference [in a non-deferential age]; the army of red-uniformed footmen redolent, again, of a bygone age; the exaggerated notions of the huge importance of The Crown which has its own mysterious systems and time-honoured ways of Doing Things and Saying Things which bear no relationship whatsoever to the ways of doing and being of their subjects.

Jeremy Bentham 1748-1832
Moral philosopher; advocate for:
animal welfare; gay rights; universal
suffrage; prison reform.

While Aristotle believed monarchies were suitable for populations unable to govern for themselves and Machiavelli largely agreed, believing republics were innately able to be more flexible and adaptable than monarchies, I do find Jeremy Bentham’s view that the monarchy was an absurd institution which had established itself through force of custom, noting that, “almost all men are born under it, all men are used to it, few men are used to anything else; till of late years, nobody ever dispraised it.”

When one considers it, our Royalty:

1. Is chiefly unaccountable to the population which is why the utmost secrecy is observed in hiding unsuitable Royal behaviour or incidents;

2. Has a Head of State appointed on the hereditary principle which is undemocratic, unfair and elitist. Democratic elections are preferable.

3. Is expensive to maintain, with its many members; numerous and costly palaces; the traditional aristocratic standard of living; plus the costly and extensive Court system.

4. Still holds the Royal Prerogative which grants the Prime Minister powers to declare war or sign treaties without a vote in Parliament, the Privy Council [a body of advisers to the monarch] being able to enact legislation without a vote in Parliament.

The Privy Council of the first Elizabeth. 1602

Monarchy has existed in Britain since the Middle Ages except for the relatively brief interruption of the end of the Civil War and Cromwell’s Protectorate. After the fall of that republican government, particularly after the 1688 Glorious Revolution, a Constitutional Monarchy was established with Charles 11 which reduced calls for a republic though the idea re-surfaced publicly during both the American and French Revolutions.

Oliver Cromwell, 1599-1658
Lord Protector of the Commonwealth
Commonwealth lasted from 1649---1660.

Currently Kate and Will as they are affectionately known, would make excellent joint Presidents after the death of King Charles, effecting an effortless path to a republic from a long-established monarchy. Their eldest son would not follow them; there would be a Presidential election when anyone might stand. At least some of the palaces, carriages and cars could be sold off; the Court disbanded to be replaced by a more modest entourage. To effect this transition over a longish period, there would need to be a steering committee or group formed of a wide variety of people, not just of The Great and The Good. These suggestions need honing but we have the bones of a possible future structure here!!

Will and Kate with their family

The Autumn of Life

 

Ablaze in the Abbey Gardens

Autumn grows, autumn in everything. A lovely time of year with a hint of melancholy from time to time as the mists gather and the nights close in. I would love to have now the brilliant stove I enjoyed in Kent for around 30 years; warmth and light and welcome in one black metal box. But autumnal comforts are there in crowded bars and restaurants full of light and warmth, and in the recent over-supply of incessant rain in this, the driest part of England, have made the plants on my terrace, hold

their heads high in the unaccustomed moisture, with foliage of reds and greens flourishing in the abundant showers, hydrangea heads fading to paper and pansies lifting pretty purple faces to the grey skies! Some of the trees in the Abbey Gardens have put on a tremendously bright carapace of dying leaves, flaring with red and yellow in a final flourish. A seasonal page is turning, expected, but still surprising in its theatre.

"Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn — that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness — that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read, some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.” 

                                                                                                      Jane Austen, Persuasion

“I like best of all autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content. From a knowledge of those limitations and its richness of experience emerges a symphony of colours, richer than all, its green speaking of life and strength, its orange speaking of golden content and its purple of resignation and death."

Lin Yutang

After all, Jane must give way. The above quote from Lin Yutang with its premonition of death, is so comfortable for me. Today came news of the death of an old friend; she was 91and indeed, had had a “golden richness” in her life's experiences, was blessed with kindly wisdom and accepted the increasing age-related limitations of life, while savouring life’s joys too. She is hugely missed by her family and friends. Importantly, elderly people feel they would like a good death, but I am increasingly of the opinion that what is really to be cherished is a good autonomous life right to the end when a good death might well follow. And if it doesn’t, well, c’est la vie! One of the joys of ageing is the insouciance which accompanies it; the inner knowledge that not much matters hugely. Generally speaking, there is little to be gained by worrying.

Savouring life in Autumn

Autumnal wandering

The Angel Inn, Bury St Edmunds in Autumnal guise.
Always associated with Dickens in my mind.

Toussaint, November 1st.

 

All Saints Day

The first of November is All Saints' Day. It is a Catholic holy day and in France it's a public holiday and a time when families  come together to visit cemeteries to remember and honour their deceased relatives. The tradition is for families to place chrysanthemums on the family graves  for la Fete de La Toussaint.

Bruges cemetery

I first lived where La Toussaint was observed when I was in Bruges which is in the Flemish part of Belgium with no French traditions, as opposed to Wallonia in the south of the country. However, many observed the tradition which is officially when the Roman Catholic Church honours its saints and people remember their dear departed. I did not know then that November 2^nd is for All Souls’ remembrance; thus these first two days honour both saints and the dear departed of individuals with their chrysanthemums. I suddenly remembered this last week when I bought and displayed a bunch of white chrysanthemums from Bury market, a floral custom never seen in a Belgian home.

By coincidence as I write this, a tract commemorating Dia de los Muertos, again, Day of the Dead, a time-honoured tradition in Mexico whose origins go back thousands of years, has popped up on my phone! This is inevitably celebrated in parts of America too, like California, 

Altar in Mexico; Dia de los Muertos

where many Mexicans live and work. Dia de los Muertos is a tribute to the afterlife, a day meant to honour those who have died and keep their memory alive. Day of the Dead starts on November 1^st and ends on November 2nd. During that time, it is believed that the spirits of the dead return home to spend time with their families. A similar celebration occurs in the Philippines where it is called Undas; in Haiti the day is called Fet Gede. There, people dress up in black, white and purple while parades are held around the country. The Day of the Dead originates from rituals practised by indigenous people in the Americas, most notably by the Aztecs who had a similar ceremony called Miccaihuiti, the time to honour the dead. When the Spanish arrived in South America bringing Catholicism, they incorporated their own La Toussaint with the indigenous traditions. In the South American tradition, people visiting relatives’ graves do not go to mourn; they go to celebrate, clean and decorate the graves, enjoy food and drink and tell stories of their dead loved ones. Sacred altars are built and photos of the beloved one displayed perhaps with personal mementoes; marigold petals are

Undas in the Philippines

also featured, meant to guide the spirits back home with their bright colour and pungent scent. Candles too, are lit, both to light the way home and to represent the departed while pan de muerto, a traditional Mexican bread, descended from the Aztec custom, is displayed. Salt, to purify, and water to quench the thirst, are also present on the altars.

There is something incredibly moving and touching about this annual Remembering, celebrated by millions of people on different continents. Writing this blog has caused me to remember my lovely sister Heather, who died two years ago and our other sister, Esme, who passed in 2017. Also, my mother whose death was such a wrenching for me in 1988. Then, my last brother, Reg, already very old, whose life finally ended soon after my move to Bruges. Childhood memories have certainly stirred and been savoured at length, thanks to this blog! There is something intensely human about vast numbers of people engaged in the same human longing and recall, offering communally, tributes and mementoes to welcome the spirits and aid the memories. History seems near and whispers from the past glimmer in the mind’s eye and ear and we experience a welcome connection with those long gone.

Part of Bury's ancient Great Graveyard

 

Our communal birthday, July 28th 1941

A rare day's outing to the seaside,
Scarborough, 1948

Brothers Joe and Reg with Esme and me plus Peter the puppy.
Summer 1937