The late Michael Foot used to say that the first thing he needed to know about a new acquaintance was, on which side he or she would like their forebears to have fought in the English Civil War. He himself, of course, was firmly for Parliament. But having read Leanda de Lisle’s book, it is hard to imagine how anyone could possibly want to have Roundhead ancestors.
King Charles I is among the most baffling figures in English history, as the subtitle makes clear. Failing to avoid the the Civil War and letting Lord Strafford, his loyal chief minister, go to the block, are scarcely peccadilloes. ‘The man of blood, with his long, essenced hair’ aroused real hatred among enemies who eventually killed him. Yet he had a magical quality that inspired lasting devotion, and died for his principles. In the author’s words: ‘To supporters he was the saintly White King, crowned in robes the colour of innocence. To opponents he was the White King of the prophecies of Merlin, a tyrant destined for a violent end.’
Lord Macaulay’s portrait still influences how we see him. Admitting he was ‘a scholar and a gentleman, a man of exquisite taste in the fine arts and a man of strict morals in private life’, he then put the knife in: ‘false, imperious, obstinate, narrow minded … The whole principle of his government was resistance to public opinion.’ In his verse Macaulay revealed what he really thought of him — ‘accurst’. A fairer minded historian, Veronica Wedgwood was more sympathetic in her The Trial of Charles I (1964); yet in the end he eluded even her. There can be few more daunting subjects for a biographer.
De Lisle is in a better position to understand Charles than either Macaulay or Dame Veronica.
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