My family under attack

It seems churlish to complain about a slight to my family while three great British heroes are suffering the same indignity. Fair enough, public good should come before private gripes.

But before I tell you of the affronts perpetrated on British history and my family (in that order!), I have to reveal the identity of the perpetrator.

She is Louise Simpson, ‘headteacher’ of what the papers describe as “the elite £17,000-a-year Exeter School in Devon”. Her proper title should be ‘headmistress’, which is what headteachers of girls’ schools have been called in England since the 19^th century.

Now, I realise that the old title is gender-specific and therefore offensive to our brittle sensibilities. But the problem shouldn’t have arisen in the first place because Exeter was founded in 1633 as a boys’ school. Such schools have always been run by headmasters, not headmistresses, which stands to reason, as traditions usually do.

However, modern obsession with ideological madness demands that the sex pack be thoroughly reshuffled, and augmented with dozens of new cards. That, I believe, is called ‘inclusivity’, a mass psychosis that produces many unsavoury symptoms.

‘Ms’ Simpson (she predictably insists on this perverse honorific) suffers from one such symptom in its most virulent form. That’s why she dumped the names of Sir Francis Drake, Sir Walter Raleigh and General Sir Redvers Buller from school houses, saying they don’t “represent the values and inclusive nature” of the school.

A pedantic stickler may argue that a private boys’ school charging £17,000 a year ipso facto falls short of the highest standards of inclusivity. But that apart, such historical vandalism is as subversive as it is these days ubiquitous.

Sir Francis Drake was the first Englishman to circumnavigate the globe. More important, he defeated the Spanish Armada in 1588, making sure that ‘Ms’ Simpson’s bailiwick is called Exeter School and not Escuela de Exeter. Sir Francis also earned my undying gratitude because I’m so tone-deaf to Romance vowels that I wouldn’t survive in a Spanish-speaking country.

Sir Walter Raleigh also took part in that linguistic triumph, but then he blotted his copybook by playing a leading role in the English colonisation of North America. But for him, ‘Ms’ Simpson might not have sleepless nights worrying about the possibility of another Trump presidency.

Yet according to ‘Ms’ Simpson, Raleigh and Drake “had less than positive connotations”. Also cancelled for bearing the stigma of the same connotations is General Sir Redvers Buller, the hero of Zulu and Boer Wars, whose statue adorns central Exeter. In addition to their CVs, all three culprits were native Devonians, which is to say local boys. But that cuts no ice with ‘Ms’ Simpson.

Essentially, she and her ilk violate one of the seminal points of English common law by making today’s moral fiats, such as they are, retroactive. Messrs Drake, Raleigh and Buller couldn’t comply with the exacting demands of modern morality because they were unable to anticipate their advent centuries later.

Otherwise I’m sure Drake would have welcomed the Spanish invasion in the name of diversity, Raleigh would have sung From the Atlantic to the Pacific on marches in support of Red Indian rights, and Buller would have let the Zulus eat as many missionaries as they fancied.

Of course, ignorantia juris non excusat, as the Romans used to say, but ignorance of the law that doesn’t exist must at least be taken as a mitigating circumstance. Not for ‘Ms’ Simpson though.

Also caught in her crossfire and slated for similar cancellation are several benefactors of Exeter School, and here we finally come to the gaping personal wound I’ve suffered. For one of them is identified as Sir John Daw, who happened to be my wife’s maternal great-uncle.

Since Uncle John, as he’s known in the family, died when Penelope was a little girl, she couldn’t contribute many personal touches, other than the fact that he didn’t have much time for little girls, specifically her.

What she is absolutely certain about is that Uncle John never circumnavigated the globe, defeated the Armada, colonised America, wasn’t rumoured to be romantically involved with Elizabeth I or for that matter any other woman, and fought neither Zulus nor Boers nor anyone else.

Sir John was a successful solicitor, Chairman of the Devon County Council and a philanthropist. The last word does share one of its roots with ‘paedophile’, but even ‘Ms’ Simpson must be aware of the difference. So what’s her problem with Uncle John?

He himself was an Old Exonian, as were most male members of the family, including my brother-in-law. As far as I know, none of them has been implicated in any crimes, real or bogus.

Nevertheless ‘Ms’ Simpson is on a roll, firing broadsides with truly woke abandon. She has the zeitgeist billowing her sails, and her ship will sail on until it runs aground.

I hope you’ll forgive the naval metaphors, but all this talk about Drake and Raleigh has to add this slant to my prose. So I hope all those who observe our civilisation going under will join me in shouting “SOS!” at the top of their lungs.