Does Ireland owe Oliver Cromwell an apology?
Cromwell was Framed: Ireland 1649
By Tom Reilly, Chronos, £14.99
Of Oliver
Cromwell, Ireland’s pre-eminent historian Roy Foster once wrote: “Few
men’s footprints have been so deeply imprinted upon Irish history and
historiography.” It could be added, too, that no historical character
has come to personify more English misrule and callousness in Ireland,
not least within the nationalist narrative.
So it would take a
brave soul to take to task the perception that Cromwell was villainy
personified. It would be even braver for an Irishman to do so, let alone
a native of Drogheda. But this has been the ambition of amateur
historian Tom Reilly, who hails from the town that lives on in infamy,
in which 3,000 men, women and children were butchered in 1649 at the
behest of the future Lord Protector.
The fable of Drogheda,
Reilly maintains, was created by Cromwell’s enemy propagandists seeking
to “bind the various confederate/royalist factions together” and has
been regurgitated over the centuries by Irish nationalists and
republicans, and by the Church, each for their own means. Reilly
dismisses the “non-primary, post-Restoration” sources of Church
historians, with their “disreputable” motives and “baseless
allegations”.
“To me, Cromwell was framed and I believe that
this book proves it,” the author declares. “Therefore, I have a moral
obligation, indeed I am duty-bound by history, to play my part in an
attempt to overturn one of the greatest historical miscarriages of
justice ever.”
Although the author concedes it likely that
parliamentary forces would have, and probably did, kill armed civilians,
“no primary document whatsoever exists that provides details of the
deaths of persons not at arms”. As a consequence, “we, the Irish nation,
owe Cromwell an apology for destroying his reputation over the last 365
years”.
Reilly finds no recorded incident of strife between
the military and civilian occupants of Drogheda in the two years
preceding the 1649 slaughter. Rather, the New Model Army enjoyed
“cordial relations with the civilian population of Drogheda”.
He
also notes that, while in 1641 there were 3,000 people living in the
town, in 1659 that number had risen to 3,500. “If the civilian
inhabitants had been practically wiped out, it is very unlikely that
within a 10 year period the town’s population would have replenished
itself.”
When Cromwell arrived in Ringsend, Co Dublin, on July
15 1649, he was “warmly welcomed by both the civilian and military
populations of Dublin”. Cromwell was a fair fellow who had nothing
against the Irish as a nation.
On the contrary, on the march
to Drogheda, when he discovered two of his men had stolen hens from an
old woman, he had them hanged. “As for the people,” Cromwell once wrote,
“what thoughts they have in matters of religion in their own breasts I
cannot reach; but think it my duty, if they walk honestly and peaceably,
not to cause them in the least to suffer for the same.”
Nonetheless,
Cromwell was a foe of the Catholic clergy, whom he blamed for stirring
the impressionable natives into insurgency in 1641. It was the Catholic
Church that was to blame for the “horrid massacres”, as Cromwell put it,
of that year.
The author has certainly received much
attention from compatriots over the years for his attempts to
rehabilitate Cromwell. Yet his revisionism would have been even more
contentious, say, 50 years ago, when the nationalist narrative and the
Church were mostly immune to criticism. Indeed, his invective against
the Catholic Church is far from daring. It’s quite in keeping with the
anti-clerical mood that has become voguish in the past 20 years in
Ireland.
It’s true that history is always moulded and
distorted for contemporary purposes, not least in Ireland. And it’s
always valuable – imperative, even – to question orthodoxies, as Reilly
has sought to do. Yet his demographic study of Drogheda is dubious. In
1641, as he himself admits, Catholics outnumbered Protestants by five to
one. In 1659, the undiminished population of the town was mostly
Protestant. One can only assume that some ethnic cleansing and
re-settlement occurred.
Cromwell
was Framed can at times be tedious, pedantic and self-regarding, with
much of it written in the first person. Reilly is also over-indulgent on
his subject who, he concludes, “was tender towards children ... a
family man who had a high moral threshold ... acutely aware of the folly
that such action would be dastardly deeds that he clearly abhorred”.
Such
an obsequious assessment of a man who “only” hated Catholics and killed
armed civilians sails close to the kind of “he loved his mum”
hagiography beloved of people who write about East End gangsters.
Cromwell might not have been the butcher and bogeyman of legend, but he
was an anti-Catholic religious fundamentalist, nonetheless. Still, for
those interested in the subject, and what really happened in 1649,
Cromwell was Framed is worth a peek.
Patrick West