An Apologie for the Royal Party (1659); and A Panegyric to Charles the Second (1661) — Reading Notes

From Defense to Celebration

The two texts occupy distinct political moments. The Apologie responds directly to The Army's Plea for Their present Practice, a pamphlet justifying military rule. Evelyn's answer is cautious: he does not name himself, printer, or place, reflecting the danger of open royalism. The Panegyric, by contrast, is unrestrained. It opens by declaring that Charles's fortunes seem 'conducted by Men alone, and second Causes; yours only by God, and as it were by Miracle.' This shift from defensive argument to providential celebration mirrors the changed political landscape after the Restoration.

Classical and Biblical Framing

Evelyn draws heavily on classical and biblical references to legitimize monarchy. In the Panegyric, he compares Charles to a phoenix rising from his father's ashes: 'our redivive Phœnix appear'd; rising from those Sacred Ashes Testator and Heir; Father and yet Son.' He invokes the maxim 'Rex nunquam moritur' (the king never dies) and cites the wisdom of Solomon: 'Mortuus est Pater ejus, & quasi non mortuus, similem enim reliquit sibi post se.' These allusions frame the Stuart succession as natural and divinely ordained, contrasting with the chaos of republics and empires that 'lasted nor to the fourth Age without strange and prodigious tragedies.'

The King's Education and Virtue

A recurring theme is Charles's princely education under his father, the 'Kingly Martyr.' Evelyn praises Charles's early piety and his motto 'ICH DIEN' (I serve), arguing that learning obedience prepared him to command. He contrasts this with rulers who 'rashly pull it on their shoulders' without preparation. The Panegyric emphasizes that Charles's virtues are 'essential parts, and only immortal,' suggesting that the monarchy's endurance depends on the king's character. This focus on personal virtue serves to justify hereditary succession and distinguish Charles from other princes whose reigns ended in disaster.

Readers approaching these pamphlets should attend to their rhetorical strategies: the Apologie argues by refutation, the Panegyric by amplification. Evelyn's use of classical exempla and biblical typology is not mere ornament but a deliberate attempt to place the Stuart monarchy within a providential history. The texts also reveal the constraints of political writing—the earlier pamphlet's anonymity versus the later's open celebration. Comparing the two offers insight into how royalist ideology adapted to shifting fortunes.

There’s something tender about watching Evelyn pivot from cautious defense to radiant praise, as if hope itself had finally found its voice. It made me think of another quiet chronicle, A Political Diary, 1828-1830, Volume II — Inside the Classic, where a different hand traces similar longing across years. Both linger like a half-remembered conversation, gentle and true.