Prompting reflection, not mere glorification

LAST week, the Gothic glory of the chapel at Jesus College, Cambridge, served as the backdrop of an ecclesiastical hearing or consistory court. Facing each other were two particularly Rumpolean barristers, pleading before further bewigged figures on the bench. Hanging high up on a wall overlooking them was the accused; in this case, it was not a person, but a monument in the dock.

This is a 9ft-tall marble cartouche, richly carved with putti, drapes, a festoon of flowers and a portrait in high relief of a moustashio’d gentleman in (another) wig: this time with cascading curls. It is a beautiful thing and is securely attributed to the great carver Grinling Gibbons, whose tercentenary was celebrated last year.

The principal charge being argued over was whether to suffer the on-going presence of this tomb in a place of worship, given the historical reputation of the remembered man. The epitaph tells us it commemorates Tobias Rustat, who died in 1693 aged 87, ‘Yeoman of the Robes to King Charles the Second’. It goes on to speak of his many charitable bequests: to Jesus College itself, to Cambridge University, the church and elsewhere (he was the largest donor to the Royal Hospital at Chelsea after the Crown). Rustat did not attend Jesus, but his father did, and it was here he chose to be buried.

But where did his money come from? There’s the rub. Together with many other later Stuart investors, Rustat put a small part of his wealth into the fledgling ventures, such as the Royal African Company, which promoted the trade in slaves. He also served (albeit passively) as an ‘Assistant’ on its governing body for several years. All this has long been known, but attitudes towards the information have changed radically. More than three centuries on, the college wants the monument down, to be re-displayed in an ‘educational space’. It alleges that students are staying away from the chapel because of the monument, which ‘venerates’ the ‘slaver’. Jesus College has kept his money, little of which actually came from Atlantic slavery, but wants his monument out of this sacred space.

Church legislation requires that a balance is struck between ‘harm to significance’ and ‘pastoral wellbeing’. This is what the barristers were arguing over. As funerary monuments go, Rustat’s is of the highest importance and clearly contributes to the Grade I-listed chapel’s special interest, so the decision of the court is of great significance. Whatever the result, Athena’s view is that, at some fundamental level, this action is misconceived. The root of the word ‘monument’ means simply ‘to remind’. Indeed, that’s exactly what Rustat’s has successfully done to its own peril. Having such a prompt for reflection does not glorify Rustat, but stands testimony to the ambiguities of history and the human condition. What better message for a chapel?

The root of the word “monument” means “to remind”. Indeed, that’s what Rustat’s has successfully done