Oliver Cromwell and the Rule of the Puritans in England

by C. H. Firth

The only hope of an honourable ending of the Long Parliament lay in its acceptance of a compromise. At a conference with some members on April 19, 1653, Cromwell and the officers proposed an expedient which they thought would answer: Let the Parliament drop the bill, dissolve itself at once, and appoint a provisional government. Let the members “devolve their trust to some well affected men, such as had an interest in the nation, and were known to be of good affection to the Commonwealth,” and leave these men “to settle the nation.” “It was no new thing,” said the officers, “when this land was under the like hurlyburlies,” and they proved it by historical precedents. The members demurred and argued, but in the end they promised to think it over and meet the officers for another conference next day. Vane and others pledged themselves, in the meantime, to suspend further proceedings on the Bill for a New Representative, and the officers separated hopefully.

Another parliamentary leader, Sir Arthur Haslerig, whose authority with the House was equal, if not superior, to Vane’s, had come up from the country resolved to defeat the compromise. He told his fellow members vehemently that the work they went about was accursed, and that it was impossible to devolve their trust. When the House met next day, it adopted Haslerig’s view, called for the bill, and proceeded to push it through its last stage regardless of protests. They meant then to adjourn to November, so that it would be impossible to amend or repeal the act; to leave the Council of State to carry on the government, and to make Fairfax General, instead of Cromwell.

News came to Cromwell at Whitehall that the House was proceeding with all speed upon the Bill fora New Representative. Till a second and a third messenger confirmed the tidings, he could not believe “that such persons would be so unworthy.” Then he hurried down to the House, dressed as he was, not like a general or a soldier, but like an ordinary citizen, “clad in plain black clothes with grey worsted stockings,” and sat down, as he used to do, “in an ordinary place.” For a quarter of an hour he sat still, listening to the debate, until the Speaker was about to put the question whether the bill should pass. Cromwell turned to Major-General Harrison, whispered “This is the time I must do it,” and, rising in his place, put off his hat and addressed the House. At first, and for a good while, he spoke in commendation of the Parliament, praising its labours and its care for the public good. Then he changed his note, and told the members of their injustice, their delays of justice, their self-interest, and other faults. As his passion grew, he put his hat on his head, strode up and down the floor of the House, and, looking first at one, then at another member, chid them soundly, naming no names, but showing by his gestures whom he meant. These were corrupt, those scandalous in their lives, that man fraudulent, that an unjust judge. “Perhaps you think,” he said, “that this is not parliamentary language; I confess it is not; neither are you to expect any such from me. You are no Parliament, I say you are no Parliament. I will put an end to your sitting.” “Call them in,” he cried, turning to Harrison, and at the word Harrison went out and brought back twenty or thirty musketeers of Cromwell’s own regiment from the lobby. Only a show of force was needed. Cromwell pointed to the Speaker in his chair, and said to Harrison, “Fetch him down.” The Speaker refused to leave the chair unless he were forced. “Sir,” said Harrison, “I will lend you my hand,” and putting his hand in Lenthall’s he helped him to the floor. Sidney, who sat next the chair that day, declined to move. “Put him out,” ordered Cromwell; so Harrison and an officer laid their hands on his shoulders and led him towards the door. Then, looking scornfully at the mace on the table, Cromwell exclaimed, “What shall we do with this bauble?” and, calling a soldier, said, “Here, take it away.”

After the mace and the Speaker were gone, all the members left the House. As they went out, Cromwell turned to them and cried: “It is you that have forced me to this, for I have sought the Lord night and day, that He would rather slay me than put me upon the doing this work.” Addressing Vane by name, he reproached him with his broken faith, adding that he might have prevented this, but he was a juggler and had no common honesty. Then, taking the bill from the hands of the clerk of the House, he ordered the doors to be locked, and went away.

It remained still to dissolve the Council of State which the Parliament had appointed. In the afternoon, Cromwell came to the Council, and told its members that if they were met as private persons they should not be disturbed; but if as a council, it was no place for them, and they were to take notice that the Parliament was dissolved.

“Sir,” replied John Bradshaw, “we have heard what you did at the House this morning, and before many hours all England will hear it; but you are mistaken to think that the Parliament is dissolved; for no power under heaven can dissolve them but themselves: therefore, take you notice of that.”

Bradshaw was right: the ideal of constitutional government which the Long Parliament represented would prove stronger in the end than Cromwell’s redcoats. That Parliament had all the faults with which Cromwell charged it; but for Englishmen it meant inherited rights, “freedom broadening slowly down,” and all that survived of the supremacy of law. With its expulsion, the army flung away the one shred of legality with which it had hitherto covered its actions. Henceforth, military force must put its native semblance on, and appear in its proper shape. Henceforth, Cromwell’s life was a vain attempt to clothe that force in constitutional forms, and make it seem something else, so that it might become something else. Yet was there not also something to be hoped from a policy which took its stand on realities instead of legal fictions?

CROMWELL COAT-OF-ARMS.