Tag: early modern Britain

King Charles the Martyr?

In some quarters, yesterday was considered the feast of King Charles the Martyr, better known to most people as Charles I of England, Scotland, and Ireland.

Charles probably had one of the unhappiest reigns of any English monarch. A strong believer in the Divine Right of Kings, he was almost constantly at loggerheads with Parliament, and he sought to rule as an absolute monarch. The final straw was when he tried to force Anglicanism on Scotland, resulting in the Bishops’ Wars, which served as a prelude to the English Civil Wars of 1642 to 1651.

A right royal prat
After Sir Anthony van Dyck [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
As many of you know, Charles was ultimately defeated, put on trial, and executed. But of course the monarchy was eventually restored, and in 1660, the Convocations of Canterbury and York decided that the day of Charles’ execution should be commemorated with a special service in the Book of Common Prayer. The service was subsequently annexed to the Prayer Book by a royal warrant of Charles II along with the services commemorating the Gunpowder Plot and the restoration of the monarchy.[note]Legally speaking, they were an addendum to the Prayer Book since they were not included in the text that was attached to the Act of Uniformity 1662.[/note]

The service itself was a piece of ecclesiastical masochism filled to the brim with handwringing over the evils of executing a divinely anointed sovereign. By the mid-nineteenth century, this attitude seemed increasingly out-of-date, and Queen Victoria removed it from the Prayer Book in 1859 at the request of both Houses of Parliament along with the Gunpowder Plot and Restoration services.[note]Some Anglo-Catholics question the validity of Victoria’s warrant discontinuing these services, but since the services were enjoined by royal fiat rather than statute, they could be removed by an executive act of the sovereign alone.[/note]

Nowadays, the cult of King Charles the Martyr has largely faded from public view, though he still appears in the Calendar of Common Worship, the book of ‘alternative’ services that has replaced the Book of Common Prayer in many Church of England parishes. Although some Anglo-Catholics bewail the downgrading, the cult of King Charles the Martyr is an aberration best left in the seventeenth century.

One of the justifications for his continued commemoration is that he was a martyr for Anglicanism. Anglo-Catholics often paint him as a stalwart defender of episcopacy and Catholic tradition in the face of militant Presbyterianism.[note]In reality, Charles was a pragmatist who was willing to throw the episcopate under the bus if he thought it would help his cause. For example, after he was captured by Parliamentary forces in 1647, Charles signed a secret treaty with the Scots (known as ‘The Engagement’) wherein he promised to impose Presbyterianism on England for three years in exchange for military support.[/note] Now I have no problem with episcopacy (I am, after all, an Episcopalian!) or Catholic tradition, but I’m not sure they’re more important than the liberties of Charles’ subjects. This was a man who had no problem imprisoning people without trial and imposing illegal taxes, and his behavior was seen as problematic even by seventeenth-century standards.

I’ve heard defenders of Charles try to get around his failings by pointing out that nobody’s perfect, and just because a person has flaws doesn’t mean they aren’t worthy of veneration by the faithful. But by the same token, just because someone displays certain virtues doesn’t mean they should be venerated either. It’s ultimately a question of balance, and in the final analysis, Charles seems rather wanting.

Ahistorical fiction

The Elder Mr. Loch recently alerted me to The Final Sacrament by James Forrester. Set in Elizabethan England, the premise of the book is that Queen Elizabeth I is not the legitimate Queen of England because of Anne Boleyn’s previous relationship with the Earl of Northumberland. William Harley, who holds the office of Clarenceux King of Arms, has  proof of Boleyn’s precontract, which makes him a wanted man.

Even today, the Kings of Arms still dress like playing cards.
Clarenceux King of Arms. Public Domain image via Wikimedia Commons.

My first reaction upon hearing of the plot was to roll my eyes. The idea that Anne Boleyn might have been precontracted to the Earl of Northumberland was not exactly a secret. In fact, the Countess of Northumberland even tried to use it as grounds for annulling her marriage to the Earl. But Lord Northumberland swore on two separate occasions that there had been no such precontract. He even stuck to his story when agents of Henry VIII wanted him to say the opposite. If there had been a precontract between Boleyn and Northumberland, it would have arguably given Henry grounds for seeking an annulment of his marriage. As we all know, Henry found another way of getting rid of his queen.

While it’s true that a precontract might have rendered Elizabeth illegitimate, she was declared illegitimate anyway by Act of Parliament after her mother’s execution. A few years later, she was legitimized and returned to the line of succession. Since her legitimacy was ultimately determined by Parliament, I’m not sure the document that forms the book’s MacGuffin would really be as explosive as it might seem as first glance. I’m sorely tempted to pick up the book just to see how he deals with the succession legislation!

Although the historian in me took a dim view of the way Forrester seemed to approach his subject, I had a change of heart when I checked out his website. “James Forrester” is actually the pen name of of Dr. Ian J. F. Mortimer, who is a rather well-known historian. On his James Forrester website, he explains why he felt the need to adopt a separate persona for writing fiction. He’s quite upfront about the fact that he’s willing to change the details if it suits the story:

In Sacred Treason I changed the name of Henry Machyn’s wife from Dorothy to Rebecca because one of the early readers of the manuscript said ‘I couldn’t help thinking of the Yellow Brick Road every time she was mentioned’. I also changed the name of my main protagonist from Harvey to Harley. It’s close enough to show I know who the real Clarenceux King of Arms was in 1563; but I deliberately wanted to be inaccurate so people could be sure he is fictional. This is very different from most historical novelists’ way of working, many of whom have a strict rule about not contradicting the ‘known facts’.

You might think that this would have me frothing at the mouth, but it doesn’t. I’m willing to tell my inner pedant to STFU if it’s clear that the author did their homework and took the trouble to get things right whenever possible. But if you can’t even get the big things right, you’re not going to get any slack at all.

400 years of the KJV

Yesterday at Westminster Abbey there was a special service to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the Authorized Version of the Bible (AKA the King James Version). The Archbishop of Canterbury gave a great sermon about this enduring masterpiece of English literature, and it’s well worth a read.

The KJV remains my preferred translation of the Bible. I realize of course that the modern translations are more accurate, but their prose lacks the richness and beauty of the KJV. Its glorious language has left an indelible mark on the English language, and many our everyday phrases, from “a fly in the ointment” to “the writing on the wall” have their origin in the KJV. I doubt the modern translations will have that sort of cultural staying power.

Forty-seven men worked on the translation that became the KJV. Most of their names are known only to historians now, but their abiding influence on our language lets them live on in our day-to-day speech. Few other writers can claim such a legacy and, wherever they are, I hope they’re proud of the monument they left behind.