Oh, the cut and Trust of history
ANORTHERN Ireland woman is at the centre of a row that has engulfed the National Trust. Hilary McGrady, t he director general, has been facing fallout from a report into connections between historic houses in the Trust’s care and colonialism.
Many of the environmental organisation’s ‘big houses’ were bankrolled by the slave trade. The findings have caused much soulsearching and controversy among the 5.6million members.
The Trust commissioned the 115-page report to ‘do justice to t he t r ue complexity of t he past, present and future, and the sometimes-uncomfortable role that Britain, and Britons, have played in global history since the 16th century or even earlier’.
It concludes ‘one-third of properties can be directly connected to colonial histories’.
In the introduction, a candid observation states, with admirable understatement, that the conclusions would probably not meet with universal approval among the members. And they certainly aren’t to everyone’s taste.
At the annual general meeting earlier this month, the charity’s board was accused of pursuing a ‘woke agenda’ and ‘a witch hunt into the lives of past property owners’.
THE more conservative members believe that McGrady and her board’s main thrust should be to look after its priceless collection of buildings gs — an impressive portfolio io that ranges from Churchhill’s home Chartwell, to o the Crown Liquor Saloon n in Belfast, and from the e very haunted Ham House e in Surrey to the Liverpool l homes of John Lennon n and Paul McCartney.
The battl e Hilary McGrady now faces is s likely to be long and d fractious.
For some peace, she’s likely to head to Fermanagh. As it happens McGrady was the guest on BBC Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs at the beginning of the month. In the programme she revealed her ‘ quiet place’ was Crom Castle in Co Fermanagh.
An utterly excellent choice, hoice this column believes. As long as you just ignore all the killings. Ah yes, the killings. Let me put this in context. Crom has extensive wetlands, and is home to one of our favourite carnivorous plants, the sundew. It earns its keep by devouring insects — one specimen can account for 2,000 insects in a year.
The wetlands and bogs at Crom are also home to a profusion of flowers, plants and mosses, while the natural woodland is a haven f or pine martens, rare bats and many species of bird. Herons (and several other waders) are popular too.
Boardwalks lead around the loughside and over the bog, leading eventually to the old ruined Crom Castle. Built as a Plantation stronghold in 1611 (last weekend in Northern Ireland terms), it was garrisoned by settlers.
The forces of James II attacked in 1689, but the settlers scored a decisive victory, killing some 2,000 of James’s troops. So, right up there with the sundew plants.
Today the castle sits in derelict beauty beside a newer castle built by the Earl of Erne.
The best way of exploring the riverbanks and islands is by boat rented in Crom Estate.
Lo ugh side stops include Crichton Tower on Gad Island and Derryvore Trinity Church, a beautiful Victorian situated atop a hill on Derryvore Peninsula. Surrounded by mature parkland trees and a glorious native hay meadow, this is one of the last great and unchanging landscapes left in Europe. These poignant surroundings were the background to one of the saddest farewells in Irish history. The Earl of Tyrone, Hugh O’Neill is reputed to have said goodbye to his lady love under what is one of the largest yew trees in Ireland — before quitting Ireland forever during the Flight of Earls in 1607. The Gaelic lord left his lover and his land — under the orders of King James I — never to return.
Truly, as Hilary McGrady said on radio, a great place for contemplation, and she’s likely to need that in the coming months.