January 30 is the anniversary of the execution of King Charles I of England. Charles lost his head because he insisted stubbornly on the divine right of kings. But the Puritans, who won the English Civil War, insisted just as stubbornly on Puritanism, with equally unhappy results.
Under the iron dictatorship of Oliver Cromwell, theatres were closed, dice and card games banned, maypoles cut down and stained glass church windows smashed. Even celebrating Christmas was made a crime. Small wonder that after a dozen years of being tyrannized by prigs, killjoys and busybodies, the English people welcomed the restoration of the monarchy with a relief akin to rapture. Some loyal subjects actually drank the king’s health while kneeling in the streets.
Could the gloomy Puritan interlude have been avoided? That is the intriguing premise of A Midsummer Tempest, a 1975 novel by Poul Anderson. Although classed as science fiction because it involves time travel, A Midsummer Tempest is more of a historical fantasy.
Now out of print, it is worth tracking down for the sheer elegance of the author’s style. It is a book to be sipped and savored like a rare wine.
In the novel, King Charles is saved from certain defeat when the spirit of Merrie England comes to his rescue as he makes a last stand at Glastonbury, the reputed site of Camelot. Perhaps I should say the “spirits” of Merrie England, because it is a supernatural army –- fairies, goblins, woodland nymphs and King Arthur’s knights -– that rallies to Charles and turns back the Puritan tide.
In fiction, at least, Charles emerges from the crucible of war a chastened and wiser man. He vows to return to London not as a conqueror, but as a healer. In a moving speech, delivered from his palace of Whitehall, he fulfills his vow.
But I’ll let Mr. Anderson tell his tale in his own graceful words:
Light smote through arched windows and shattered on gems as King Charles raised his hand.
“Ye know the most of what we shall proclaim tomorrow to the people and the world,” he said. “Let us however, in curt courtesy, lay it before you here to think upon.
“We both, we Crown and commoners, were sent through a sharp school which birched us in the lesson Our Lord first offered freely on the Mount. Hereafter, may we do our sums aright!
“’Tis true high treason cannot be ignored. The unrepentant leaders of revolt – as Cromwell, Fairfax, Shelgrave and the rest – must go from us, their riches confiscate to loyalists who formerly were poor. But they may fare as exiles where they wish, or, if they like, be granted ships and help, that in New England they may found new lives. It can well use such steadfastness as theirs.
“And to the most, the vast majority, is given pardon unconditional. Let us be reconciled with one another, rebuild this house we wasted in our rage, then dwell together in a common love.
“Toward that end, the Crown must do its share. Uprising, though unjustified, had causes which partly lay in King and Church and nobles. Not simply folly and extravagance, but outright tyranny, archaic use a crust across the growth of a new age, unwillingness to listen or to change – such things from us; and from the Parliament an arrogance, intolerance and haste – unholily engendered civil war. Let us instead join better qualities. Let a new Parliament be called to us, and with us write new laws which may long stand because they serve the welfare of our land.”
I can make but one comment on this speech that was never given: If history didn’t turn out that way, it should have.
