Bulstrode and me

You’ve got to admire someone who goes through life with a name like Bulstrode Whitelocke. I do, anyway. At university, I managed to avoid studying the early modern period of British history – thinking two years of Tudor and Stuart Britain for my A levels was quite enough. This meant I missed out on Bulstrode. I’m sure I’d otherwise have met him sooner. He was one of the second rank figures of the Parliamentary Revolution – important enough in his day, but skated over in school histories. (Or maybe my A level teacher was more interested in Henry VIII and Elizabeth). Whatever the reason, I didn’t finally make his acquaintance till I was living in Sweden and looking for English language perspectives on Swedish history.

Whitelocke’s Journal of the Swedish Embassy wasn’t published until 1772, nearly 100 years after his death at the Biblically prescribed age of 70 in 1675. But the Journal probably circulated in manuscript for years before. He seems to have written it with the expectation that others would read it. Throughout the Journal, he refers to himself in the third person, and I can’t think of any credible reason for this but that he was covering his back in case someone objected to what he’d written. He could always say: You can’t know that I wrote that – look, it says “Whitelocke said this. Whitelocke did that.” (Actually, he writes “Wh”.) He was a lawyer as well as a Parliamentarian and would be careful not to tell a falsehood, while still providing grounds for “reasonable doubt”.

The embassy to Sweden took place in troubled times. It’s true that the Peace of Westphalia, in 1648, had ended more than thirty years of religious-inspired war in the middle of Europe. But the solution which Westphalia established – that the citizens of a state should share the same religion as their ruler – did not make for a great deal of tranquillity. What ought to happen if the people of a state follow one religion and their ruler gets it into his (or her) head to switch to another? Do the people have to change their religion? Or do they change ruler? How? One of the reasons for the Parliamentary rebellion in England was Charles I’s Catholic tastes combined with his conviction that he had a divine right to rule, which the people could not take away. Whitelocke arrived in Sweden – the bastion of Protestantism under it’s previous king, Gustavus Adolphus – just in time to witness the conversion to Catholicism of Gustavus’ daughter and successor, Christina. The Swedish (or perhaps Christinan) solution was not civil war but abdication. Whitelocke also witnessed the coronation of Christina’s Protestant cousin and successor.

Whitelocke liked Queen Christina. It comes through in his description of his meetings with her. He found her intelligent, well-informed, witty and attractive, and despite being nearly twice her age, was not above flirting with her. (He was 48, she was 27.) If what he writes is to be believed, she flirted back. Bizarre as it may seem today, at the time, the English had a saucy reputation in Europe. The standard English greeting between men and women, friends as well as strangers, was a smacking kiss on the lips. Accordin to the Journal, the Queen encouraged Whitelocke’s entourage to demonstrate this English custom – though she herself did not participate.

Whitelocke arrived in Sweden in November 1653. He stayed in Gothenburg for two weeks, allowing his company (especially the horses) to recover from the voyage. His account of Gothenburg in the Journal is the earliest extensive picture of the city in English, just 30 odd years after it was established. Then Whitelocke and his people set out for the Queen’s court, which had moved to Uppsala “by reason of the sickness at Stockholm”. It took them 20 days to cross Sweden, arriving in Uppsala on 20th December. Not an easy trip, as the roads were icy and food was difficult to obtain. On more than one occasion the Journal records the company dining off “cow that was rotten and had died in the field”. There was at least one broken leg caused by a slip on the ice, one traveller had his head kicked in by a horse, and several people (including Whitelocke himself) fell ill from the cold. Getting to Västerås on 15th December, Whitelocke reports “letters from the court … to this effect:- That the Queen and her court were astonished that the English Ambassador was advanced so far on his journey, with such a train, in so short a time.”

The Embassy lasted until after the coronation of Karl X in the early summer of 1654, when Whitelocke took ship from Stockholm and sailed home.

I went through a phase where I thought it would be fun to visit schools and perform a monologue based on Whitelocke’s Journal. History and English in combination. I still think it might be a good idea, but I don’t know how I would go about it. And anyway, the economic situation in Swedish schools today is such that I can’t imagine I’d be able to get anyone to pay me enough to make it worthwhile. Just a pipe dream. (Or perhaps UR might be interested?)

Oh, yes, you might be wanting to know how Whitelocke got his first name. The story goes like this. His mother’s maiden name was Elizabeth Bulstrode and there was a tradition in the Whitelocke family that children should be given a first name from their mother’s side. But when Bulstrode was to be christened, all the male names on his mother’s side had already be given, and it was another tradition that two members of the same generation should not share the same first name.
“What name do you give this child?” says the minister officiating at the christening.
“Bulstrode!” says George Croke, uncle and designated godfather to the baby.
“Bulstrode?!” exclaims the minister. “You can’t call him that!”
“Either Bulstrode or Elizabeth!” Says Croke, cheered on by the rest of the family.
In the face of a united congregation, the minister decided it was better to go along, and Bulstrode Whitelocke was christened. In a subsequent generation, a nephew from the Bulstrode side was christened Whitelocke Bulstrode. How would Skatteverket react to that, I wonder.

The only modern biography of Whitelocke is Ruth Spalding's aptly titled The Improbable Puritan (from 1975). Ms Spalding has also edited Whitelocke's Diary (which includes his notes for the Journal), but in my quotes on this Blog I have used the copy of the 1772 first edition in held by Gothenburg University library. I'd really have liked to illustrate this entry with a picture of the man himself, but the National Portrait Gallery charges for reproduction rights. If you want to see a picture, though, go to this page.