Who knew this would be so hard to write. The aristocracy as cult. And I feel the wrath bearing down on me. I remember when a review in The Daily Mail came out of my first novel, the one that takes that class to task, that rolls it over and shows the soft underbelly of poverty emotional, all the wealth and high standing sent skittering across the floor like dropped pearls. I sat on the edge of the bed shaking, feeling sick, my head closing in. Do Not Speak. That is the first and last tenet. Do not show the cracks, the humanness, the sorrow, and never apologise and never explain. I faced a choice on the brink of publication to pull it and remain inside or publish and be cast out. The absurdity struck me even then, this novel that revealed nothing that wasn’t already known, that chose to highlight the feelings of people. I knew I was breaking the rules and did it on purpose, those rules being the reason for all those people’s sufferings. Those rules being cruel. I consciously refused any longer to collude. It set me free. A writer first, a mother second and all those other identities I was born to could jostle for third, fourth, fifth. I no longer belonged. But the cult of it, aristocracy as a thing to believe in, the rules and regulations, we do not behave like that. It makes me wild, it makes me furious and yet wait, try to see it as a religion said a friend of mine as I raged. It’s their faith. I’ve never been good with doctrines, but I’ll give it a go. Imagine: This is how the world works and these are the facts. Here is the map, hereditary titles as signposts to show you the way. Burkes Peerage as bible. You can point to your place. Your elders will teach you how to pray. There are stories as lessons, a version of history on which to build your understanding, there are cautionary tales and excuses. In this church of complex rhythms, a mystery to the outside eye, there are promises to keep you safe. Do not disturb the order of things, don’t question why, don’t you know monarchy is king and god ordained it and when we bow all things are in their rightful place. Don’t shatter the edifice with evidence of pain, proof of a thing not working, you will hurt more than this conversation, you will ruin lives. There is more at stake than you. Buck up. Brave face it. Do not bring shame upon us. But no. Because that’s the biggest lie of all, that today’s sacrifice is tomorrow’s greater good and all cults rely on it. I have your best interests at heart but you don’t, aristocracy as religion, aristocracy as cult. You care only about upholding the existence of yourself. You are the castle wall we die on.
Your honesty and bravery, your risk taking. I salute you.....so much to own. Too much to own. I hear the golden shackles been shaken off, the door of the bejewelled cage creaking open and wings spreading, flying free.
Why do these titles still exist, honestly?