By Paul Carrier
Can a novel strike a comic tone if it ostensibly deals with the quest for vengeance following the beheading of a king?
That the answer is a resounding yes becomes clear in the first few pages of The Judge Hunter by Christopher Buckley, who quickly introduces one character with the wonderfully improbable name of Plantagenet Spong and another who is described as a blithering tosspot.
Let's set the stage by traveling back to 1649, when 59 “commissioners,” or judges, signed a death warrant for Charles I during the English Civil War between royalists and parliamentarians. Charles was beheaded in London on Jan. 30 of that year, paving the way for a period of Puritan rule.
Thus ended the monarchy in England, or so it seemed at the time. But all that changed when the executed king’s son returned from exile in 1660 and was coronated in 1661 as Charles II.
With the monarchy restored, some of the surviving “regicides,” as the signers of the elder Charles’ death warrant were known, were excluded from public office, imprisoned for life, or executed. But others fled the country, including at least two judges — Edward Whalley and William Goffe — who escaped to New Haven, a colony unto itself before it was absorbed into the Puritan-led Connecticut Colony.
The titular judge hunter of the novel (and the aforementioned blithering tosspot) is the real-life Balthasar “Balty” de St. Michel, a 24-year-old ne-er-do-well who survives on “loans” from his brother-in-law, Samuel Pepys. In both the historical record and the novel, Pepys is a 17th-century British naval administrator. He is known today as the famed author of a diary that sheds much light on the England of his time.
Eager to get rid of the feckless Balty, Pepys arranges to send him to New England in 1664, ostensibly to ferret out Whalley and Goffe so the king can hold them accountable for their role in his father’s execution. Arriving in Boston, Balty hooks up with a government-appointed guide and mentor, Hiram Huncks (aka Plantagenet Spong) who is supposed to keep Balty from doing anything, well, stupid.
No one except Balty actually expects him to find Whalley and Goffe who, aided by New England Puritans, have gone underground. But as it happens, no one except Balty really cares. Unbeknownst to Balty, he and Huncks have a secret mission: to gather intelligence that will help a British naval squadron seize New Netherland (New York) from the Dutch.
Balty and Huncks have a series of adventures as they wend their way from Boston to Hartford to New Haven, and then on toward New Netherland. In the process, we learn that Balty is not quite the fool everyone believes him to be (although God knows he has his deficiencies). And Huncks, despite his gruff manner, military experience and intimate knowledge of New England, is far from infallible.
In their travels, the Boston-born Huncks and Balty encounter dour Puritans, devout Quakers, assorted Indians and tolerant Dutch settlers. Historical figures wander in and out of the saga, including John Winthrop, co-founder of the Connecticut Colony; and Peter Stuyvesant, governor of New Netherland.
Buckley provides a memorable description of the latter, whose forehead “went on forever, the summit disappearing beneath a skullcap. His nose, too, was outsized. It drooped, as if made of clay that hadn’t hardened. The eyes were small and beady, the lips sensual and unpleasantly moist. Cascades of hair descended on each side past the shoulders, giving him a spaniel aspect. He seemed to have been assembled from various materials.”
The author packs a lot into this fast-paced romp, which blends melodrama and farce, pathos and malice, some overly dry factual digressions and fanciful fiction. The periodic reappearance of Pepys, an ambitious and lecherous fellow who remains in London while Balty and Hunks rack up escapades in New England and beyond, provides drama of another sort when Pepys finds himself accused of treason.
With its focus on fugitive regicides and the tenuous relationship between New England and New Netherland, this picaresque novel examines colonial America from an unusual perspective. And yes, in case you’ve taken a peek at the book’s cover, a parrot does figure in the plot. He's Brazilian, and his name is Johann.
That the answer is a resounding yes becomes clear in the first few pages of The Judge Hunter by Christopher Buckley, who quickly introduces one character with the wonderfully improbable name of Plantagenet Spong and another who is described as a blithering tosspot.
Let's set the stage by traveling back to 1649, when 59 “commissioners,” or judges, signed a death warrant for Charles I during the English Civil War between royalists and parliamentarians. Charles was beheaded in London on Jan. 30 of that year, paving the way for a period of Puritan rule.
Thus ended the monarchy in England, or so it seemed at the time. But all that changed when the executed king’s son returned from exile in 1660 and was coronated in 1661 as Charles II.
With the monarchy restored, some of the surviving “regicides,” as the signers of the elder Charles’ death warrant were known, were excluded from public office, imprisoned for life, or executed. But others fled the country, including at least two judges — Edward Whalley and William Goffe — who escaped to New Haven, a colony unto itself before it was absorbed into the Puritan-led Connecticut Colony.
The titular judge hunter of the novel (and the aforementioned blithering tosspot) is the real-life Balthasar “Balty” de St. Michel, a 24-year-old ne-er-do-well who survives on “loans” from his brother-in-law, Samuel Pepys. In both the historical record and the novel, Pepys is a 17th-century British naval administrator. He is known today as the famed author of a diary that sheds much light on the England of his time.
Eager to get rid of the feckless Balty, Pepys arranges to send him to New England in 1664, ostensibly to ferret out Whalley and Goffe so the king can hold them accountable for their role in his father’s execution. Arriving in Boston, Balty hooks up with a government-appointed guide and mentor, Hiram Huncks (aka Plantagenet Spong) who is supposed to keep Balty from doing anything, well, stupid.
No one except Balty actually expects him to find Whalley and Goffe who, aided by New England Puritans, have gone underground. But as it happens, no one except Balty really cares. Unbeknownst to Balty, he and Huncks have a secret mission: to gather intelligence that will help a British naval squadron seize New Netherland (New York) from the Dutch.
Balty and Huncks have a series of adventures as they wend their way from Boston to Hartford to New Haven, and then on toward New Netherland. In the process, we learn that Balty is not quite the fool everyone believes him to be (although God knows he has his deficiencies). And Huncks, despite his gruff manner, military experience and intimate knowledge of New England, is far from infallible.
In their travels, the Boston-born Huncks and Balty encounter dour Puritans, devout Quakers, assorted Indians and tolerant Dutch settlers. Historical figures wander in and out of the saga, including John Winthrop, co-founder of the Connecticut Colony; and Peter Stuyvesant, governor of New Netherland.
Buckley provides a memorable description of the latter, whose forehead “went on forever, the summit disappearing beneath a skullcap. His nose, too, was outsized. It drooped, as if made of clay that hadn’t hardened. The eyes were small and beady, the lips sensual and unpleasantly moist. Cascades of hair descended on each side past the shoulders, giving him a spaniel aspect. He seemed to have been assembled from various materials.”
The author packs a lot into this fast-paced romp, which blends melodrama and farce, pathos and malice, some overly dry factual digressions and fanciful fiction. The periodic reappearance of Pepys, an ambitious and lecherous fellow who remains in London while Balty and Hunks rack up escapades in New England and beyond, provides drama of another sort when Pepys finds himself accused of treason.
With its focus on fugitive regicides and the tenuous relationship between New England and New Netherland, this picaresque novel examines colonial America from an unusual perspective. And yes, in case you’ve taken a peek at the book’s cover, a parrot does figure in the plot. He's Brazilian, and his name is Johann.
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