Oliver Cromwell has held a special fascination for me ever since my school days, when I undertook some studies and projects about the man. Later in life, as my philosophical, moral and political antennae grew more acute and even discerning, my feelings grew more mixed and sceptical, with the caveat that one must to an extent make allowances for the period when a person lived and acted.
It has been levelled that the biography, Cromwell: Our Chief Of Men, by Antonia Fraser, leans too heavily in the direction of reverence and sympathy for Cromwell. I think it is true that the author's words indicate an admiration for her subject, but this is far from a hagiography.
The interpretation of events can occasionally seem pro-Cromwell, and his supposed virtues and strengths are proffered, but to my mind there is no real effort to conceal his mistakes or weaknesses, and little effort to downplay some of the less palatable episodes in his life and career. In addition to opinions, the facts are outlined, and tend to speak for themselves.
One of the charms of reading a book about the seventeenth century is the quaintness of the language contained in the assorted quotations from sources. The actions and thoughts of men, and the mood of the period, is often illustrated in a poetic manner.
In our secular times it is often difficult to grasp the fervour with which people of those times warmed to their task, especially on matters spiritual. I think that the author tries to interpret and filter such zeal into a worldly form for modern minds, but I must admit that the regular references to "providence" and similar concepts did become rather wearing before I got to the end of the book.
A considerable slice of my interest in the English Civil War and the Cromwellian period in general these days centres on the more radical political and religious voices which inhabited the landscape of England. Elements within the Army, and groups such as The Levellers, were pushing for greater economic democracy and social equality. Yes, these factions were not strong enough, and it is a moot point whether some of their manifesto has even been fully implemented as we speak in the 21st century. I was pleased to see Antonia Fraser regularly refer to these radical sections of opinion throughout her book.
I sensed that the author had fairly trenchant opinions concerning the legality (or otherwise) of the trial and execution of Charles I, and this I would say helps to counter the charges of pro-Cromwellian partiality. She also laments the way in which parts of the Irish campaigns were conducted, and bemoans the attitudes behind that conduct, seeming to question Cromwell's mentality. The "rules of war" and "how things were done at the time" are invoked, and the author examines the forces within Cromwell which led to his actions. The impression one gets though is that the author feels disdain and sadness for this particular chapter in the Cromwell saga.
A theme within these pages which quite intrigued me was the theory that Cromwell was more effective and skilled as a military commander than as a politician, some of the qualities which served him well on the battlefield not necessarily translating into being useful in the world of political endeavour.
The constantly shifting structures and dynamics of power in the Commonwealth, and the timescales involved, could appear confusing, but these passages were highly instructive in assessing Cromwell's inner motivations and his strategic and tactical grasp.
Within the book there are some interesting reflections on how Cromwell's elevation, and the general course of events, affected cultural and social life in England.
When Cromwell's policies and beliefs are scrutinised closely, they do not strike the modern "enlightened" observer as being particularly progressive, and the emphasis placed on stability, order and security is a constant and recurring topic. The temptation to laud the clamour for radical change is easy from an armchair, but it was not going to have to be introduced in a vacuum.
At regular intervals the author is at pains to cite examples or instances where Cromwell exhibited "clemency" or common humanity, intervening in the case of one individual or another. This is all well and good, but should such behaviour and values have been the rules rather than the exceptions, being granted as a matter of course and basic rights?
It is worth noting that the author frequently seems to draw a distinction between Cromwell's own personal inclinations and interventions, and the more obdurate and unyielding forces of the laws and the executive bodies. This, together with the constant references to Cromwell's good deeds and "good works" were over-laboured almost to the point of becoming counter-productive, nearly seeming like "making excuses".
In fairness, the author does sometimes acknowledge that the Protector was often unable to force through general improvements and improved rights for everyone. This is a crucial point for me;general rights and liberties are important indicators, not discretionary favours to be awarded in isolated, selected situations. I can up to a point sympathise with Cromwell's pronouncements regarding security and order, when one considers the fevered and tumultuous nature of those years, but this should not totally absolve him from criticism.
One of the best written and most convincingly argued chapters is the one which examines Cromwell's deliberations when he was "offered" the kingship by Parliament. Some real insight is provided here on his worldview and his psyche, as well as the breadth of opinion which existed in England at that juncture.
Going back to the notion that Cromwell was a better soldier than a politician, I would contend that it is easier to measure and quantify his military successes and achievements, in terms of important battles won, clear strategic ascendancy attained, campaigns expedited. The political balance sheet is a more ambiguous and subjective beast, with tantalising glimpses of what could be, more a case of what his time signified or presaged than what ultimately got done.
The final chapter of this biography was impressive balanced and authoritative, and it helped, along with some of the other material in the closing third of the book, to make me slightly more receptive to the book's overall tenor.
I didn't agree with everything which was said in this work, but I still found it to be a rewarding and illuminating read.
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