Cromwell

by Antonia Fraser

  This team now proceeded to tackle with much industry all those reforms that had in their estimation been pending so long, due to the languid energies of the Rump and the ill-directed efforts of Barebones. It has been pointed out that between the December of the Protectoral inauguration, and the September of the following year when Parliament met, eighty-two ordinances were enacted, including the long-awaited reform of the law, and the reorganization of the State Church. Although theStatepapers show that Cromwell himself did not make a practice of attending the Council in 1654 he attended only twenty-eight out of one hundred and sixty-four sittings – the impetus to these reforms was given by the Protector. As for Milton’s part, it has been conjectured that he received the gist of those messages he was to write either from Thurloe, or from the Council itself while in session. Perhaps even on occasion his instructions came from Cromwell himself although the point is questionable. Milton would then write, or cause to have written, the message in English; the next stage was to have the English version vetted either by Council or Protector. Finally the Latin draft was written out, or as his blindness deepened, dictated to his amanuensis.2

  The law reforms were of particular importance because they had been so long nagged over.3 Puritanism-in-practice was in many ways far in advance of its times in humanity. Capital punishment for example was to be removed, except in cases of murder and treason, on the eminently reasonable grounds that “to hang for a trifle and acquit murder is the ministration of the law through ill framing of it”. In August an ordinance of the Council regulated the controversial Chancery Court; plaintiffs were to give securities for costs, in order to stop vexatious suits, and suits were in future to be held in order of setting-down. There was also to be a table of fees for lawyers, and they were explicitly forbidden to frame their cases in interminable sheaves of language, whose only effect was to increase the length of the case, and thus heighten their own fees. As for the treason penalties, although these were to be exacted against anyone who denounced the new Instrument of Government, it was typical of Oliver’s spirit that he came to apply this law against the Fifth Monarchists in a way that was theoretically arbitrary, practically merciful.

  The language of these passionate folk lost nothing in its violence as the Protectorate proceeded, and they were soon in grave trouble over their maledictions. The Protectoral regime and even Oliver himself, in the view of some, could now claim from the Pope or Popery generally the doubtful honour of being the Anti-Christ, a constant title of execration, which had been applied to shifting objects of abuse down the centuries. Anna Trapnell, the strange northern prophetess, discerned in Cromwell the Little Horn, a horrible excrescence on the head of the Beast, as depicted in the Fifth Monarchists’ favourite book of Daniel. The numerological calculations of John More, a London apprentice, brought the total of Cromwell’s titles to a sinister six hundred and sixty-six – the number of the Beast.4 Since any denunciation of the Government constituted treason, inevitably such burning-tongued declaimers ended up in prison. But once incarcerated, Oliver refused to have them tried. The reason was simple. A trial would not fail to result in the imposition of the heavy treason penalties. Imprisonment without trial, for all its seeming tyranny, saved them from themselves.

  Oliver also displayed a disconcerting leaning for arguing with such people. John Rogers, the Fifth Monarchist, had become one of his most fervent denigrators, one of those who came to identify him with the Anti-Christ, and had not only harangued him from the pulpit but had had a fulminatory pamphlet printed whose title – “Mene, Tekel, Perez”- recalled the famous words of warning given to Nebuchadnezzar, although in this case it was subtitled “a letter lamenting over Oliver, Lord Cromwel”. Rogers further proclaimed a day of solemn humiliation for the rulers’ failings, compared Whitehall unfavourably to Sodom, and demonstratedhow Cromwell personally had broken at least eight Commandments. From the point of view of the Government, it was hardly surprising that Rogers ended up in prison, and almost any other potentate than Oliver Cromwell might well have left the excitable preacher there, where he could safely ignore his insults. Cromwell, however, either out of his genuine taste for discussion with those of contrary opinions or out of an inability to believe that he could not personally convince the Fifth Monarchists to a better way of thinking – and indeed the two qualities were probably closely allied in him – sent for Rogers from prison in February 1655.

  The result was a verbal ding-dong battle in which neither side would give way.5 Oliver compared Rogers, with all his blasphemous denunciations., to the one little fly that could ruin a whole good box of ointment. He boasted that never before had there existed such liberty of conscience in England as at the present time. Rogers’s language in reply became highflown and to the Protector increasingly incomprehensible, until at last he plunged into Latin. This was a language in which, as has been seen, the Protector did not feel noticeably at home. On this occasion, he interrupted Rogers sharply to ask: “What do you tell us of your Latin?” To this Rogers replied impertinently but scoring the point: “Why, my Lord, you ace Chancellor of Oxford, and can you not bear that language?” So back Rogers went to prison again, and far from suspending his attacks, took to describing Cromwell as a serpent whose horns allowed him to look like a lamb. But the truth was that Cromwell had showed, and would continue to show, lamb-like restraint in his attitude to these demonstrative critics, which does him much credit in comparison with many other practitioners of supreme power.

  Further examples of Oliver’s desire to soothe and conciliate, to weld the nation into some kind of contented unity under his fatherly care, were provided by his treatment of others who had officially fallen foul of the State. The laws against former Royalists or delinquents regarding their lands were of course still in force and the complicated administration of the process still continuing: two-thirds of their estates were to be sequestered from all those who had borne arms in the King’s cause. Catholics, whether they had borne arms or not, were subject to confiscation, although the penalties for mere recusants were lighter than for those who had thrown in delinquency as well. It was also possible under certain circumstances, to compound or pay a fine of money to retain the estates. Obviously in the prolonged and detailed working out of these laws there were many opportunities for appeal and for evasion, and many properties slipped through the net; in particular there is evidence that Protestant or Roundhead agents or relations would hold land for their proscribed friends, for which purpose family solicitors were often used. As a result, although obviously there was some changeover in the ownership of land, the comparatively low figures of land restitution after the Restoration were to illustrate how surprisingly competent former landowners must have been in retaining their properties, and the financial needs of the Government would make the continuance of the process all too likely. Even so, seven hundred estates were sold by the acts of sale between 1651 and 1652.6

  Cromwell’s attitude as Protector was however felt from the first to be sympathetic to the plight of those former Royalists who had now settled down to support by inaction the current regime. In 1654 the Government approved the leasing of the sequestered lands back to their original owners, which in itself helped restore the status quo, even if the former owners had to summon up the money for the rents. Edmund Ludlow in his memoirs went further and actually accused Cromwell of instructing the judges on the circuits to show special favour to the Cavaliers. This is an exaggeration, nevertheless it indicates the prevalent impression that Oliver wished to live at peace with the former Royalists, as a first step to which they were to be treated less harshly. In certain cases of arbitrary confiscation initiated under the Commonwealth, proceedings were actually halted under the Protectorate. The further sale of the Craven estates for instance was halted; Lord Hatton’s estate was prevented from being sequestered for lack of proper evidence. As a result, it has been demonstrated with conviction that the condition of the lay Royalists gradually improved after Cromwell came to power.7
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br />   In the case of the Roman Catholics, whose sufferings were liable to be greater, because the presumption of delinquency was always so strong in members of the proscribed faith, Cromwell’s desire to help the law-abiding among the community was the more marked, because it was exceptional to his age. In fact Cromwell’s attitude to English Catholicism after he became Protector – in striking contrast to his behaviour towards the Irish variety – is the most forcible illustration of the way his mind was turning more and more away from doctrinal implications and towards such practical subjects as law and order. In the summer of 1654 he struck up a new friendship, quite as unconventional as his acquaintance with the Royalist Lady Dysart, with Sir Kenelm Digby, who was not only a Roman Catholic of standing, but had also been in the household of Queen Henrietta Maria. As with Bess, it seems to have been Digby’s idiosyncratic personal qualities which attracted the Protector. Digby was described by the Venetian Ambassador as “a man full of imagination and idle fancies (chimere)”. Some of these fancies were scientific, others wilder, for Digby was both extremely eccentric and a great talker. John Aubrey described him as “the most accomplished Cavalier of his time”, one who would command respect anywhere if he were to be dropped out of the clouds, although the Jesuits were said to have added the unkind rider that this high opinion would only apply if he stayed no longer than six weeks. Digby was a giant of a man, of much physical strength, with a great booming voice to match, his frame topped by a broad and beaming face, almost cherubic in its expression. He had originally been associated with the Army-Catholic talks of 1648, but had been banished the next year. His friendship with Cromwell began early in 1654 when he presented himself to the Council of State to ask for the return of his estates. To the fury of the rabidly anti-Catholic, William Prynne, who called Digby with disgust Cromwell’s “particular favourite” and accused him at one and the same time of seeking a Cardinal’s hat, Digby ended by going to reside at Whitehall.8

  For the next two years or so the pair were much together, Digby hoping that Cromwell would favour the Catholics, Cromwell that the Catholics would settle down to favour him. When Digby received a pass to go abroad in October 1655, his protestation was effusive: “Whatsoever must be disliked by my Lord Protector and Council of State must be detested by me … I make it my business everywhere to have all the world take notice how highly I esteem myself obliged to his Highness, and how passionate I am for his service, and for his honour and interests, even to the expecting of my life for them.” Of course the relationship between Cromwell and Digby was the kind where the supporters of each side suspected their own friend of being suborned by a cunning adversary. Nevertheless Her ways Cromwell did show an interesting predilection for clemency the summer of 1654 when a wretched priest of Southworth, was caught and under the harsh treason i the cruel and horrible fate of dismembering and quartershowed genuine distress. To observers he seemed much : from such cruelty”, and declared himself in favour of freedom of conscience for all. Although on this occasion he did not prevail, and Southworth died, the possibility of toleration for peaceable Catholics obviously lingered in his mind. For the following summer he was instrumental in mounting a secret mission to Rome, the object of which would have been to secure an “engagement” with the Pope. English Catholics would have been allowed to worship in private, in return for which the Pope would no longer have preached rebellion against the English Government. The official renewal of the laws against the Jesuits in April 1655 may even have been intended as a cover for these negotiations, since there is no evidence that further indictments followed them.9

  Unfortunately the talks were unsuccessful. Of the two men principally involved, William Mettam, the scion of a distinguished Yorkshire family and probably the nephew of the martyred Jesuit Father, Thomas Mettam, had been a former student at the English college in Rome. The other, Thomas Bayly, was of a difficult nature; it seems that the negotiations which were essentially of a highly delicate nature in view of the existing state of the English laws, eventually broke down as a result of his personality rather than anything else. This abortive outcome did not prevent both hopes and fears being raised – the fears in this case being those of the exiled Royalists in the entourage of King Charles n, who saw Cromwell in the process of stealing a march on their own sovereign. Hyde was disconsolate or outright indignant on the subject in his correspondence of the summer of 1655: “It would be very strange if after so much hypocrisy and juggling, Cromwell should gain credit at Rome,” he wrote, “and be looked upon as a person who would perform any civil offices to the Catholics, when it is notoriously known that his interest and power is only in those persons who are irreconcilable to them.” But the fact was that Cromwell had succeeded in signally embarrassing the exiles: it was only natural that the Catholics should now wonder what Charles n would do for them, if in power. How could the King make any definite proposals, was Hyde’s angry response when, for one thing, he had no idea what Cromwell’s propositions might be? What was more, Charles was shown no “affection” by the Pope.10

  It was a tribute to Oliver’s intentions at least that the French Ambassador, Bordeaux, was of the considered opinion that the English Catholics fared better under the Protectorate than under any previous Government. The immediate consequence was not only relaxation but profusion. The records of the English Province of the Society of Jesus, which had shown a mere 78 persons converted to the Catholic faith in the dark days of 1650-1, reported 364 converts in its annual letter of 1654, rising to 416 in 1655.11 By October 1655 the Venetian Ambassador was having six Masses said every day in his spacious ambassadorial chapel, all packed with English people who were using this tacitly allowed loophole to practise their religion; on festivals, there were as many as ten Masses said. Although in later years, the ugly connexion between Catholic recusancy, profitable fines, and the financial problems of the Government, would lead to the diminution of such a favourable atmosphere, the evidence remains that the name of Oliver Cromwell himself was one which English Catholics had no reason to curse and some reasons to bless.12

  In some ways the plight of the dispossessed Anglican clergy was more grievous than that of the avowed heretics, for the Puritans were not capable of forgetting so fast their former disputes, and those years when the Anglicans had seen to the ejection of those suspected of Puritanism were not so far away. The efforts of the Triers for the removal or disqualification of unsuitable ministers got under way in March 1654. They included Baptists as well as moderate Presbyterians but were of course most strongly Independent. Nevertheless the people managed to retain a sufficient number of their old ministers, as in the changes of land ownership, for it to be necessary for the Government specifically to forbid this in the autumn of 1655. Yet even here Oliver showed himself hopefully on the side of conciliation. He never showed any particular sympathy for the Book of Common Prayer so dearly loved by the Anglicans, yet certain petitions for the preservation of Anglican ministers were successful. And when the sufferings of the ejected Anglicans (or episcopalians) were laid before him in a personal interview of January 1656 by the former Archbishop Ussher, the Protector suggested the subject should be laid down before the Council. That was, so long as the ministers in question declared their intentions of living quietly. Ussher died a short while later: Cromwell not only had his funeral in Westminster Abbey paid for out of State funds but also – an even more remarkable concession – did not prevent the Anglican burial service being used beside the grave.

  One incident involving the Earl of Bridgwater, by now living retired from public causes, showed very clearly Oliver’s personal determination to smooth out differences where they could not be eliminated.* ( * The correspondence, not printed in W. C. Abbott, appears in the Bridgwater MSS.) Oliver, by his own account in a long and positively ingratiating letter of explanation to Bridgwater of 9 May 1654, had made an order giving a living at Whitchurch in Shropshire to a certain Mr Porter, under the impression Porter was desired by the parishioners. In the meant
ime a Dr Bernard tine forward, having been presented to the living by its patron, Bridgwater, and had tried to maintain that Porter had no right to the place, being "disaffected" and having countenanced the enemy coming to Worcester. The "godliest and best affected Inhabitants were for his the Doctor’s coining in”. But on further examination, it turned out to be the Doctor himself who was “legally obnoxious”, and so Bernard had been ordered to forbear from taking Porter’s place until some further enquiries could be made. In all of this, wrote Oliver, he had been “without any purpose to prejudice your Lordships right of Presentation”. And although “I can find it in my heart to incline you to Mr Porter,” said the Protector, “yet it is with this clearness, that I shall leave your Lordship most free to exercise your own Liberty.”13