Power and Sex in Tremain’s 17th Century

Rose Tremain is one of a number of British writers who have been breathing new life into historical fiction. Unlike earlier practitioners of the genre, from Walter Scott to Mary Renault, not many of this later generation, which includes A.S. Byatt, Peter Ackroyd, A.N. Wilson, Jeanette Winterson and Hilary Mantel, have made it their specialty. But few have been entirely able to resist the temptation to transport their imaginations into the strange, yet in some ways familiar, world of the past.

Most of Tremain’s novels have been set in her own era. Her first, “Sadler’s Birthday” (1976), was told from the viewpoint of an aging butler; her most recent, “The Way I Found Her” (1997), from that of a 13-year-old boy. In the years between, this versatile and venturesome writer has explored an impressive range of styles and subjects, from an elderly woman novelist’s retrospective reflections on her life history in “The Cupboard” (1981) to the story of a transsexual from her girlhood in the 1950s to his manhood in the 1980s in “Sacred Country” (1993). But the novel for which Tremain is probably most famous is her portrait of life at the court of King Charles II, “Restoration” (1989), which was also made into a successful movie.

Her new book, “Music & Silence,” takes place earlier in the 17th century. It opens in 1629, as Peter Claire, a handsome, gentle English lutenist arrives in Copenhagen to take up a position as a court musician. Denmark’s King Christian IV is a middle-aged man, madly and sadly in love with his much younger morganatic wife, Kirsten Munk, who once loved him (or loved the idea of marrying a king) but now can’t abide his touch. Sly, lascivious and self-centered, Kirsten is carrying on a torrid affair with a German count. It is little wonder her husband seeks solace in music and in the soothing presence of his English “angel,” Peter Claire.

Into the employ of wicked Kirsten (who hates music) comes innocent Emilia Tilsen, whose kindness and devotion touch Kirsten’s hard heart: “Her alone, among my Women, can I endure for the reason that she does not hate me,” notes Kirsten in her diary. Emilia’s qualities also win her the love of Peter. The two seem perfect soul mates. But when the king and faithless Kirsten fall out, Peter’s fealty to him and Emilia’s to her entail a parting of the ways.

Emilia and Peter have histories of their own, which also threaten their future. At his previous post in Ireland, Peter became the lover of a warmhearted countess whose husband had turned from her and their children to pursue a hopeless dream of composing heavenly music. Emilia, raised on a farm, lost her beloved mother and fled from a stepmother who had seduced Emilia’s father and then worked her sexual spells on his teenage sons.

Tremain’s motive for setting this book in the 17th century does not seem to have been a desire to elucidate specific historical events. Although the ongoing religious wars are mentioned, neither religious faith nor the power struggle between Roman Catholics and Protestants plays a major part in this novel. The power struggles that dominate this story are about sexual power--particularly women’s over men; the faith that is tested is lovers’ faith. What seems far more likely, then, is that Tremain has set her novel in 17th century Denmark for reasons dictated by the needs of her imagination.

“Music & Silence” evokes a realm of candlelight, shadows, music, silence, castles, farms, dense forests and perilous seas. Although the story is not a simple one, Tremain’s prose style has an almost fairy-tale limpidity. An aura of romance suffuses the proceedings, which include sadomasochism, incest, child abuse and greed (such, after all, are also the stuff of which fairy tales are made). In this latest novel, Tremain has revisited the past, not in search of history, but to summon up a world of sharp contrasts and strong feelings, imbuing her story with a sense of wonder that we of later times associate, rightly or wrongly, with earlier ones.