What the Duce?

???

It was my first foray back into the family records this past weekend, and what did I find?  That three girls were christened on the same day in Cranborne - May 15th, 1888 - with parents named George and Elizabeth Jane Adams.  What on earth is this?  I looked through the baptism records and could not find any other George Adams born after or near our George, nor could I find ANY other George Adams in the Cranborne censuses up to 1871.  And how coincidental that this potential other George also had an Elizabeth Jane for a wife.

My suspicious side is taking over my confused side and beginning to smell a rather large rat.  Could George have been leading a double life?  Our George was in Bournemouth and legally wed to Isabella in 1888 and having children with her.  Who are these girls (surely they were not triplets, but just all christened on the same day for some reason), and where do this other George and Elizabeth Jane Adams fit in if they are not the same ones?!  There must be a logical explanation somewhere, because no one would be stupid enough to christen his children in his home village church if he was supposed to be married to someone else in another town, which everyone would have known about in little Cranborne.

One explanation that I'd already thought about when I couldn't find any record of death for Elizabeth Jane Adams, is that she did not die earlier, but was in an assylum/sanatorium (perhaps the marriage was annulled?), and so she might have had more children that George later adopted as his own, in law or name, that were christened in the church at Cranborne.  It is all very interesting and potentially very sad.

Or - Occam's Razor - the simplest explanation is that there was another couple named George and Elizabeth Jane Adams living about the same time in Cranborne ... if only I could find such a George and Elizabeth Jane in the records.  ANYWHERE.

Here are the three girls names: Lilian May Adams, Constance Ethel Adams, and Nelly Catharine Adams.

How will this all turn out?

Her Majesty's A Pretty Nice Girl

    

As an ex-pat and a colonial (by virtue of dual citizenship) with small 'r' republican leanings, I am perfectly happy to follow the occasional burst of high theatre staged on behalf of the House of Windsor: weddings, funerals, state visits, and other "royal rubbish", as my decidedly anti-royalist pater refers to anything at all to do with the monarch and her family.  But the Diamond Jubilee celebrations for the Queen are somehow different and have made me think a bit more about someone who has always been there in the background, but about whom I have never given any serious thought.  Her image is seen daily on our money and stamps and hanging in all public buildings in the land, and every large city in Canada has at least one school or hospital named for her, but at no time in the development of the average kid growing up here does anyone seem to actively encourage any particular allegiance or attachment to the Queen and the monarchy.  So, why do I care about this person at all?  Why do I find myself feeling strong affection for her now?  I do not know.  It's obviously not for the person herself, as I don't know her, or for the list of  reasons trotted out ad nauseum by all who are true monarchists, i.e. how hard she works, her devotion to duty, her dignity and composure, her sharpness and purported intelligence.  All these qualities are enough to inspire admiration, certainly, but not affection.  Does she not represent the pinnacle of the entire heap of corrosive sludge that is the (en)titled class in Britain, for whom I feel nothing but a distant contempt, or sorrow?   Yes.  And no.  In reality, she is as much removed from 'them' as she is from everyone else.  And the trade-offs for her über-wealth and privilege cannot possibly be worth it.  I would have put my own head into the guillotine and pulled the release lever myself long before my sixth year on the throne, never mind the sixtieth.


Undoubtedly, my feelings have more to do with the Queen as a powerful national symbol for my motherland, for a place of myth and fiction and shared history that is as compelling to me as the mythic and historic Elizabeth II is herself in a way.  She is the one thing all of us have had in common, certainly for my whole life,   as part of the backdrop of the times we live in.  So, is the affection felt for her merely an overflow of goodwill based on tribalism, and the comfort of secure familiarity?   Perhaps - if you are the sort of person that likes to go through life thinking in a state of reductive blandness.   Without having come to a better conclusion after giving it thought this Jubilee Weekend though, I have nothing more to add but my own good wishes to the mountain of them already offered: Long Live the Queen!    Happy Diamond Jubilee old thing.