Mrs Protector, 1650

He's away on business, and doesn't get in touch enough!

It’s fair to say that Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658) remains a divisive figure more than 370 years after he took command of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland in 1653 as Lord Protector. To some, he is a republican hero, a champion of meritocracy and military genius; to others, an oppressive tyrant and miserable killjoy. But as we might want to ask of many a famous leader… what was he really like?

A year after Cromwell’s death in 1658, his household steward John Maidstone wrote in a letter to governor John Winthrop Jr. of Connecticut (they were step-cousins) of Cromwell:¹

His body was well compact and strong; his stature under six feet, (I believe about two inches;) his head so shaped as you might see it a store-house and shop both, of a vast treasury of natural parts. His temper exceeding fiery, as I have known, but the flame of it kept down for the most part or soon allayed with those moral endowments he had. He was naturally compassionate towards objects in distress, even to an effeminate measure; though God had made him a heart wherein was left little room for any fear but what was due to himself, of which there was a large proportion, yet did he exceed in tenderness toward sufferers. A larger soul, I think, hath seldom dwelt in a house of clay than his was.

Of course, if we want to get really close to the man, we need to look at his marriage.

We don’t know exactly how Oliver and Elizabeth met. What little evidence we have suggests they were introduced by relatives in the small, intermarried Puritan elite of Essex (where she was born). We know they married in 1620 at St Giles-without-Cripplegate, one of the few pre-Great Fire churches of London that survives today, albeit marooned in the middle of the Barbican arts centre.

Elizabeth was born in 1598 to Sir James Bourchier, a wealthy leather merchant, and the first of his 12 children – a well-heeled family but certainly not part of the aristocracy. When she came to prominence under Cromwell’s rule, she was often mocked for her relatively low origins (by royal standards). Cromwell himself was from the minor gentry, and his family had benefited from being related to Henry VIII’s chief minister Thomas Cromwell a few decades earlier. Oliver and Elizabeth would go on to have nine children together, born between 1621 and 1638, with eight of them reaching adulthood and five of them outliving both parents. (Their fifth child, Richard, would briefly succeed his father as Lord Protector before the Restoration of Charles II.)

For someone so close to the seat of power, sadly Elizabeth is rather elusive in the historical record. When Cromwell took over, she became ‘Lady Protectress’. There are some surviving contemporary documents which are snarky about her – one satirical 1664 pamphlet, for example, said she was “an hundred times fitter for a barn than a palace” , and the Royalists had accused her of drunkenness and adultery. Others referred to her frugality, though that might be regarded as a virtue given her newly elevated status.

For a little glimpse into the relationship of Oliver and Elizabeth, we have just four surviving letters – three from him, and one from her.² On 4th September 1650, Oliver famously wrote to her from Scotland, a day after hammering the Scots at the Battle of Dunbar because they had declared support for Charles II as king:

My dearest, I have not leisure to write much. But I could chide thee that in many of thy letters thou writest to me, that I should not be unmindful of thee and thy little ones. Truly, if I love you not too well, I think I err not on the other hand much. Thou art dearer to me than any creature; let that suffice. The Lord hath showed us an exceeding mercy: – who can tell how great it is! My weak faith hath been upheld. I have been in my inward man marvellously supported; – though I assure thee, I grow an old man, and feel infirmities of age marvellously stealing upon me. Would my corruptions did as fast decrease! Pray on my behalf in the latter respect. The particulars of our late success Harry Vane or Gilbert Pickering [two prominent Parliamentarians] will impart to thee. My love to all dear friends. I rest thine, Oliver Cromwell.

(He was 51, two years younger than I am now, and the “infirmities of age” are relatable.)

A few months later, on 27th December, we have the only surviving letter by Elizabeth (she was at their house The Cockpit, part of the Whitehall palace complex – they would move into the palace proper in 1654; he was now in Edinburgh, trying to stop a general panic). Note how the theme of them grumbling at each for not writing more continues:

My dearest, I wonder you should blame me for writing no oftener, when I have sent three for one: I cannot but think they are miscarried. Truly, if I know my own heart, I should as soon neglect myself as to omit the least thought towards you, who in doing it, I must do it to myself. But when I do write, my Dear, I seldom have any satisfactory answer; which makes me think my writing is slighted; as well it may: but I cannot but think your love covers my weakness and infirmities.

I should rejoice to hear your desire in seeing me; but I desire to submit to the Providence of God; hoping the Lord, who hath separated us, and hath often brought us together again, will in His good time bring us together again, to the praise of His name. Truly my life is but half a life in your absence, did not the Lord make up in Himself, which I must acknowledge to the praise of His grace.

[She then chides him for not writing to the Lord Chief Justice, Sir John Glynne, and others, before concluding.]

Indeed, my Dear, you cannot think the wrong you do yourself in the want of a letter, though it were but seldom. I pray think on; and so rest – yours in all faithfulness, Elizabeth Cromwell.

In a letter of 12th April 1651, Cromwell – in Edinburgh again – writes with his prayers for Elizabeth and their children, particularly his favourite Betty (whose spiritual welfare he seemed particularly concerned about), and includes this touching note: “My love to the dear little ones; I pray for grace for them. I thank them for their letters; let me have them often.” He says he loves Richard (now 24) and his wife “very dearly”, and signs off: “Truly I am not able as yet to write much; I am weary; and rest,
Thine, Oliver Cromwell.”³

And the last we have between them is dated 3rd May, Oliver still in Edinburgh:

My dearest, I could not satisfy myself to omit this post, although I have not much to write; yet indeed I love to write to my Dear, who is very much in my heart. It joys me to hear thy soul prospereth: the Lord increase His favours to thee more and more… The Lord bless all thy good counsel and example to all those about thee, and hear all thy prayers, and accept thee always. I am glad to hear thy Son and Daughter are with thee. I hope thou wilt have some good opportunity of good advice to him. Present my duty to my Mother, my love to all the Family. Still pray for Thine, Oliver Cromwell.

All this feels very human: genuine affection, and awkward apologies for not writing/calling/texting more!

A few months later, Cromwell finally finished the Royalists off at the Battle of Worcester and Charles II fled into exile. Government by Parliament was fractious and faltering, until Cromwell was sworn in as Lord Protector on 16th December 1653, the post he held until he died of malarial fever and probable kidney infection just five years later, less than a month after the loss of his beloved Betty.

And what of Elizabeth? There are just a couple of later glimpses.

According to the news journal Mercurius Politicus published in May 1660, “there were several of his Majesty’s goods at a fruiterer’s warehouse near the Three Cranes, in Thames Street, London, which were there kept as the goods of Mrs. Eliz. Cromwell… and seventeen cart-loads of rich house stuff was taken from thence and brought to Whitehall, from whence they were stolen.” A few days later, it reported, “Amongst the goods that were pretended to be Mrs. Cromwell’s, at the fruiterer’s warehouse, are discovered some pictures, and other things belonging to his Majesty…”

They key word perhaps is “pretended” – this journal was firmly in support of Cromwell’s republic, so would have had no purpose in pointing the finger at Elizabeth. And she certainly came to her own defence – the last we hear of her is a petition she wrote (in the third person, standard for an official document) to the king in 1660:

The humble petition of Elizabeth Cromwell, widow, sheweth, that among the many sorrows wherewith it hath pleased the all-wise God to exercise your petitioner, she is deeply sensible of those unjust imputations whereby she is charged of detaining jewels and other goods belonging to your Majesty; which, besides the disrepute of it, hath exposed her to many violences and losses under pretence of searching for such goods, to the undoing of her in her estate, and rendering her abode in any place unsafe; she being willing to depose upon oath that she neither hath nor knows of any such jewels or goods… She therefore humbly prays that your Majesty would be pleased to distinguish betwixt the concernments of your petitioner and those of her relations who have been obnoxious; and out of your princely goodness vouchsafe her a protection, without which she cannot expect, now in her old age, a safe retirement in any place of your Majesty's dominions.

And despite the vengeance taken against Cromwell’s body by the Royalists (he was posthumously beheaded and mutilated), she was indeed given some sort of protection. She did leave London just in case, and eventually settled with Betty’s widower, John Claypole, in Northborough (then in Northamptonshire, now in Cambridgeshire), where she died in 1665. She’s buried there in an unmarked grave, still keeping her counsel.

1. The original is among the Winthrop Papers held by Massachusetts Historical Society.

2. They are all in the collection preserved by the Cromwell Association, available here.

3. In a letter to his “beloved son” Richard in April 1650, Cromwell offers advice on marriage, the most important thing being to “truly love your wife”.