History is relative

The BBC’s Laura Trevelyan found others knew more about her famous ancestors than she did â” until she went in search of the great dynasty of scholars and public servants

My introduction to the legacy of my ancestors came rather late in life. You might think I had been raised to recite the great works of George Macaulay Trevelyan, historian of England and my great-grandfather, by heart. Or to quote verbatim from the Northcoteâ“Trevelyan reforms of the Civil Service, brainchild of my great-great-great-grandfather Sir Charles Edward Trevelyan. Or perhaps my formative years were spent poring over a dog-eared copy of the Early History of Charles James Fox, by Sir George Otto Trevelyan, Liberal Cabinet minister and literary historian, and my twice-great-grandfather? Nope. Nothing of the sort. ‘Of course, my dear, you of all people know that history is relative,’ said an elderly peer when I was in my late twenties and reporting on Parliament for the BBC. I stared at him blankly. ‘Joke,’ he explained, somewhat testily. ‘Lord Macaulay, the historian, was the uncle of George Otto Trevelyan, also a historian, whose son G.M. Trevelyan carried on the family tradition….’ I made my excuses and stumbled out, resolving to learn more about my heritage.

But my ignorance can be explained, if not excused. As a child of divorced parents, growing up in the 1970s in Camden Town, north London, I knew little and cared less about the achievements of long dead relatives. What’s the relevance of G.M. Trevelyan when you’re trying to get through the day in a large girls’ comprehensive without getting your lights punched out? A history teacher tried to get me to read G.M’s well-loved Garibaldi trilogy, but without success. I vaguely connected my eminent relative to the statue of the Italian bloke above Dad’s fireplace but that was about it.