Part 2 – The Regicide

“The most interesting thing about King Charles the First,
Is that he was 5’6” at the start of his reign,
But only 4’8” tall at the end of it.

Because of

Oliver Cromwell”

So goes a commentary on Charles I and Oliver Cromwell’s relationship by Monty Python. It is a very common view on their relationship. Cromwell removed Charles’ head – and in doing so, permanently changed the way in which we conceived of Parliament and Kingship. If it were not partly true, it would not still have so much purchase. However, the relationship between Cromwell, Charles and the joint in Charles’ neck is a complicated one. Although I think something like the execution was likely given the situation in 1646, it was by no means inevitable. What’s more, the extent to which Cromwell took the leading role is greatly exaggerated. He was, it must be said, a man with a lot of power, and Cromwell’s rise did coincide with the beheading of the king.

However, it is not the case that these things are related in a straightforward way. In fact, it is far more sensible to look at this without pointing fingers – or alternatively attributing praise. Agency and intention need to be unhooked from one another. It is not the case that there is a neat line of causality – one person wanting the King’s head off causing the head of the King to fall off. On the contrary, the interaction of ultimately several impersonal factors and pressures combined to ultimately make the unthinkable not only conceivable, but necessary.

The end and a new beginning

In 1645, the Civil War was coming to an end. In 1644, the Battle of Marston Moor had given the parliamentarians an advantage which they had failed to follow up. The royalists were desperate, but not hopeless. In 1645, however, at the battle of Naseby, these hopes were destroyed as the royalist army was shattered. The King soon surrendered in 1646. This surrender, however, would not be a straightforward one.

As is often the case, winning coalitions that are attempting to overcome the status quo are divided. The question of ‘what system do we want to replace the old one?’ is not one with a self-evident answer. Often, the unity of a cause comes in the reaction to the old political order, and when this old order is defeated, divisions becomes clear. Charles realised this, and understood he could use this to his political advantage. The following piece of history can be generally understood as the rise and fall in this strategy of using the divisions between his enemies to effectively restore his pre-civil war power.

Charles I had been fighting the parliamentarians since 1642. However, the ‘Parliamentary’ cause was mainly united in its opposition to what Charles represented, and the different strands of the coalition idealised different, often mutually exclusive models of political order. Charles I, therefore, played with this division to get a better deal and - as we will see - for a while it worked.

The Scots, Parliamentarians and the Army

There are three main parties you should be aware of here. The first was the Scots. The Scots had been rebelling against Charles for the longest period of time. They had first started their rebellion in 1636 in response to Charles’ attempt to enforce a new religious settlement onto Scotland.

In Scotland, the religious order had traditionally been Presbyterian. This was a moderate form of puritanism which was far more austere than English worship. Charles wanted to bring the two systems both closer together and closer to a conservative ideal of church. He introduced a ‘prayer book’ that made Scottish worship more like English worship. The English system had Bishops, ornate church interiors and often used quasi-Catholic ritual in its day-to-day worship. For many, the ‘prayer book’ represented a first step in the wrong direction by a King the Scots could not hold to account. The Scottish revolted in response to this, and the so-called Presbyterian ‘Covenanters’ took control of Scotland - which they retained for the whole of the Civil War. What this group cared about more than anything was therefore the continuation of the Presbyterian church north of the border. They supported the Parliamentary cause at several important points during the Civil War – specifically at Marston Moor, where the Scots’ Cavalry charge enabled the Parliamentary victory. The point that is important to note here is that the Scots did have an effective Army that acted independently of the English. Generally, however, they stayed north of the border, preferring to strengthen Presbyterian rule in Scotland than act as Kingmakers in England.

The second grouping is the conservative parliamentarians. These parliamentarians, led by Denzil Holles, were religious and political critics of Charles. However, this criticism tended to place emphasis on the fact that Charles had contravened a set of religious and constitutional norms. They wished to re-establish these norms, and get Charles to accept their vision of a monarchy that shares a considerable degree of its power with Parliament. Like all those fighting the King, they also had an ideal religious settlement. For conservative parliamentarians, puritans by nature, this alternative religious settlement was quite similar to the Scots. They wanted a Presbyterian system implemented within England. They wanted aesthetic austerity within the church, far greater focus on the bible and to do away with bishops. However, they also wanted a really intolerant church. The conservative parliamentarians were keen to avoid anarchy – and there was a fear that without the strict enforcement of church dogmas, blatantly heretical and dangerous beliefs would soon become common. They feared that without the guiding hand of intolerant puritan authorities, things would deteriorate into politically dangerous waters. People would believe things, that – for example – would enable them to justify resisting the State. Parliament did have two things that did give it considerable power. First of all was its legitimacy. Parliament was seen by most reasonable people – even the most radical or most royalist – as an essential part of the constitutional order. This gave it moral force and legitimacy – and unless it was absolutely necessary to not do so, most abided by its legislative acts and orders. Secondly was the fact that it had considerable mainstream support that came from this legitimacy. Most of those who supported the Parliamentary cause, especially within the moderately conservative and pro-Parliament South East of England supported Parliament over the Army or the Scots.

The final group is the Army. The Army had originally been unambiguously under the control of Parliament. However, several events slowly both politicised the Army and gave it a far greater degree of independence from Parliament. Initially, the Army had been led by several commanders who were either members of Parliament, Lords or chosen by either of these two groups. Two good examples were the Earls of Essex and Manchester – both Lords, both moderate critics of Charles who sat neatly within that conservative Parliamentary faction which I just described. However, the way these parliamentarians tended to fight did not meet the high standards some of those who stood against the King expected. At the same time, new, more effective commanders were coming to the fore. Three of the most notable were Sir Thomas Fairfax, John Lambert and Oliver Cromwell – all of which had shown significant degrees of initiative, energy and creativity on the field. It took a crisis to make the shift to this new class of officer permanent. Marston Moor was this crisis – Marston Moor represented a clear Parliamentary victory. However, the old guard of officers, leading disparate forces, failed to make Marston Moor a decisive victory – allowing the royalists to recuperate. After Marston Moor, the make-up of the officer class changed decisively. The new guard replaced the old at the head of a centralised, well organised army under the command of Sir Thomas Fairfax. What’s more, the ‘self-denying ordinance’ dealt a death-blow to the conservatives within the Army. This barred anyone in the Lords or Commons from holding a role in the Army – with the notable exception of Oliver Cromwell, who was deemed as too valuable to bar.

This represented the beginnings of the independence and political activity of the Army. As new, more radical officers came to lead the army, a radical rank-and-file was encouraged to join the Army. The impact of this has been frequently exaggerated – but it is certainly the case that there were groups of radical soldiers within the Parliamentary Army. For example, it has been noted that Cromwell sought out those who were religiously zealous for employment in the Army. It is worth understanding what radicalism exactly is in this context. First of all, it needs to be stated that radicalism tended to be predominantly religious in character at this time – how could it not be? In the 17th Century, everyone thought in terms of religion – in many respects, it took the central position that today is occupied by wealth, its distribution and generation. Politics operated around it – everything was geared towards ‘better religion’, and most political decisions and divisions related at a fundamental level to it. Radicalism for the Army took on – primarily – the cause of religious toleration. Most radicals believed that any Church structures forced onto any individual against their will by legislative act was an imposition by earthly authorities on something that earthly authorities could not have any understanding of. Toleration, was therefore the radicals’ most key demand.

These were the three politically important groupings that existed within the winning side after the civil war. The divisions between them in 1646 could be found – but they had to be teased out. It was not obvious that there would be a descent into factional struggle between all three parties. Most recognised that a political settlement would be relatively easy to reach, and would be able to incorporate demands of all the winning parties. What’s more, there was a general consensus among all but the most radical that any political settlement must gain the consent of Charles I. In this way, everyone could be mostly happy – even if compromise would almost necessary.

Charles and the Art of Double Dealing

Looking at it with the - admittedly distorting – benefit of hindsight, it becomes clear immediately that Charles was not going to make it this easy for anyone. Firstly, Charles decided to surrender not to Parliament – no, instead he travelled all the way from Oxford to Newark to surrender to the Scots. This was the first attempt to divide the winners to get a better deal. Once there, the Scots and Parliamentarians were relatively effective at avoiding being split. Charles negotiated with both Parliamentarians and Scots to attempt to get a good deal. The offer he received from Parliament was a vision of peace that incorporated the demands of the English and Scottish – known as the ‘Newcastle Propositions’. These were relatively harsh. They were a set of Proposals Charles did wish to accede to, but are helpful to us in that they provide the context for what the winners’ ideal political system was. Parliament wanted Parliamentary control of the Army for 20 years, as well as the establishment of an English Presbyterian church. The emphasis on Presbyterianism in England was something the Scots agreed with. For the Scots, this would ensure there was no religious challenge to Scottish Presbyterianism. If all of Britain was Presbyterian, then England’s religion would no longer threaten Scotland in the way it once had in the late 1630s. In effect, this pleased the Scots as Scotland would cease to be religiously isolated.

Charles rejected these propositions out of hand. Instead of keeping hold of Charles, the Scots then effectively pawned him off to the English. As a result, by 1647, the initiative was squarely in the hands of the English. It would make sense at this point to still call the English a unified camp – the divisions between the Army and Parliament were mild and not nearly sufficient to cause an open break. However, this was to soon change.

In a shocking example of political incompetence, Parliament opened up a division that need not have existed. This was so shocking as it would be one that would eventually destroy the Parliamentary cause. Parliament did this by debating the disbanding of the New Model Army. This may have been a sensible thing to do – the Army was very expensive and it made sense to at least attempt to return to normalcy. However, Parliament dealt with both the topic and the Army insensitively, in a way that alienated most of the officers and troops. To understand how this was done, it is worth noting the context. The enormous cost of keeping a big and effective military had caught up with Parliament. £3 million in backpay had not been handed out to the soldiery. What’s more, many soldiers had done terrible things – having fought in practically the bloodiest conflict in British history - that they were keen to gain immunity for. Foot soldiers therefore decided to lobby Parliament – and so petitions were sent off to be debated at roughly the same time that disbandment was being considered. These demanded that the Army’s two demands were met – pay arrears and a general indemnity. Only then would the Army agree to disband.

Denzil Holles, leader of the conservative Presbyterian faction in Parliament badly misjudged a response. Instead of acting in a conciliarity way, Holles condemned those petitioning in a reply on the 30th March 1647. He refused to even consider their demands. Understandably, this caused consternation in the ranks of the New Model Army. Needless to say, the Army would not disband when Holles asked them to. What’s more, the rank-and-file began a process of organisation aided by several sympathetic Generals – forming a ‘General Council’ where they would co-ordinate their goals. Decisions in the Army were made by the Generals on behalf of the troops – at no point were the unfiltered desires of the rank-and-file responsible for dictating general army policy. Instead, Generals tended to share sympathy with their soldiers, and there was internal debate within the officer class about how to react.

What is worth noting here is the peculiar absence of ideology at this stage, especially in the rank-and-file. It was not out of a desire for a more radical settlement that the Army became an independent political actor. Instead it was motivated to a considerable extent by self-interest – a desire to get their financial due and not to be on the receiving end of some form of retribution for war crimes. However, it also the case that once the army became an independent actor, it was very difficult to put it back into its box. To a considerable extent this was not due to the demands of the rank-and-file. They, as always, remained largely politically aligned with the leadership, and were often willing to give up their cause in order to pursue their self-interest. Instead, a radical, pro-Toleration leadership pushed for a more radical religious and political settlement.

The Army looked to establish dominance over Parliament by whatever means possible. In mid-June 1647, in the name of attaining its ‘just demands’ the New Model Army moved towards London. In response, Parliament called up the militia to defend itself. The London Trained Bands, as the London militia was known, failed. Only those from the Westminster Regiment turned up in significant numbers. As a result, the Army easily overcame Parliament’s forces. Pressure was put on Parliament to bend to the Army’s will. In January 1648, for example, Denzil Holles was thrown out of Parliament – not to return until June. In this way, Parliament was temporarily under the control of the Army.

As this was happening, another set of events strengthened the Army’s hand even further. The King, who was held by Parliament at this time, was captured by an Army Cornet at the head of a very small force. The King, always seeking an opportunity to divide his enemies, ensured he found his way to the Army’s headquarters. As Jonathon Fitzgibbons, a historian, points out, he actually advised the Cornet to go to Newmarket – the Army’s Headquarters. After this, Charles entered negotiations with the Army heads. The Army heads at this point included Cromwell, but it is important to note the Cromwell was not the outright leading figure within the Army. The more complex truth was that power was shared with several other ‘independents’, as the radicals were known. These included Henry Ireton, Phillip Skippon – and Sir Henry Vane the Younger, who was not even in the Army, but instead provided leadership for the ‘Independents’ in Parliament.

What the Army officers offered the King was a good deal. It asked relatively little of Charles – and was probably the best sort of deal that Charles could have realistically gained from the Army. The Heads of Proposals as they were known included no commitment to abolish episcopacy, in fact they allowed Charles to retain his Prayer Book in England as long as it was not a mandatory requirement that one attended church. Royalists would be temporarily barred from holding office for 5 years, and Parliament would retain control of who was appointed to the Army – but that was all. These were relatively lenient demands, and clearly far better than the Newcastle Propositions. The Army’s ire was instead directed against Parliament. Parliament’s termination was formalised in the agreement – and the length that Parliament could sit was restricted. This proved that Charles’ strategy to divide his enemies in order to ensure each was under a competitive pressure to give him a better deal worked.

However, although Charles superficially was effective with the Heads of Proposals, we can also gleam that there were also significant limitations to Charles’ strategy. The Army and Parliament was not willing to give into Charles’ demands to return to the pre-civil war status quo. Charles was not willing to compromise on his vision of a prerogative-rich monarchy. If these two positions were held simultaneously, the gulf between the King and his opponents would be too wide to bridge. Something would have to fundamentally change – or else there would be no permanent settlement. This essential tension had existed since the beginning of the Civil War – and in many respects, it was likely that something at least as radical as Charles’ execution was likely from the outset of the Civil War.

Some historians – especially those who are sympathetic to radical socialism – will at this point bring up the ‘Levellers’. The Levellers were a political movement that existed in the mid-17th Century. They had a wide-ranging political philosophy. It was generally, though, a pretty radical one. They called for a political order that was act in the interests of the ‘free-born Englishman’ – i.e. the vast majority of English people. What this meant in practise was a more radical political system that acted a bit more like a Democracy. Demands included an increase in the size of the franchise and a written constitution that protected rights. For left-wing historians, looking at the past for heroes that champion the cause of the oppressed, the Levellers have been popular. However, it must be explained that the Levellers did not have nearly the purchase or popularity that has been frequently attributed to them. They have tended to be lauded as being causally important in the execution of the King – having put pressure on Oliver Cromwell to act. The narrative them says they were betrayed by Cromwell, who failed to commit to Leveller reforms – as a result, they mutinied in 1649 and Cromwell put their rebellion down at Burford church. This narrative does not fit with the facts, and is in many respects history read backwards.

In reality, the Levellers were relatively liminal. They did not – as claimed – speak for the army rank-and-file. Most of the army were radical and relatively zealous, but not nearly as radical as the Levellers and – potentially more importantly - not willing to put their self-interest on the line to achieve their goals. What’s more, Cromwell and the Generals were themselves seen as radicals, had the support of most of the army and were the ones who facilitated and encouraged communication with the rank-and-file. For example, the Army Leadership facilitated the ‘agitators’ in response to Parliament’s attempt to destroy the army. Cromwell, specifically, was keen to not allow the debates to split the army. At the debates at Putney – which, we must remember the Army once again helped organise - Cromwell did not come down decisively on either side. He emphasised the need for unity – he presented himself as neither anti-or-pro Leveller, itself an incredibly radical position. One of the biggest problems here for radically left-wing historians is that it is not obvious at all how the Army would actually put pressure on Cromwell independently of Cromwell. Of course, mutiny was an option, but as we saw with Burford, the numbers of Levellers who were willing to mutiny were always small because the Leveller movement was confined politically. Other than mutiny, political pressure only worked if the leadership were complicit in facilitating this pressure – something that they would obviously not do if it compromised the Army’s objectives. In this way, too much retrospective significance has been given to the Levellers. In fact, the Army leadership under Cromwell was extraordinarily radical for its time. More stress should be put onto this than anything else – as the Army Leaders’ radicalism was the primary motivator for action.

In this way, the Army leadership remained in control, and did not fear the Levellers – the Levellers were not an existential threat. Oliver Cromwell did not see the Levellers as a force which he defined his existence against – he often allowed their ideas to be discussed and considered. It is hard, therefore, to paint a picture of the period as a battle between Oliver Cromwell and the Levellers as the main story of the period between 1647 to 1649. Despite this, the Levellers’ arguments were not uninfluential – and became increasingly commonplace among an emerging ‘independent’ elite. It is certainly the case that Generals – those like Ireton, Cromwell, Fairfax, Desborough, Lambert and Harrison – had exposure to these ideas. Some, like Desborough, Lambert and Harrison took them up, which would become influential in the coming months.

The Second Civil War

As the Army continued to negotiate with Charles, Charles also had secret negotiations with other parts of the winning coalition. Eventually, Charles reached an accord with the Scots. The ‘Engagement’ - as it was known – was the high-point of Charles’ strategy. The terms were good. Charles would only have to accept Presbyterianism for a ‘trial’ 3-year period, on the condition that ‘Independency’ was suppressed. The Scots also would be granted a greater role in the government of England. This was relatively lenient, especially because Charles’ relationship with the English Parliament was to be agreed at a later date. Unsurprisingly, this would once again put Charles in a position where he could play the Scots and Parliament off each other in the future – allowing him to potentially repeat his strategy once again after the Second Civil War. The agreement, in contrast to the Newcastle Propositions that had been representative of internal unity within the winning side, showed how far Charles’ obstinacy had been able to shape politics in the late 1640s.

However, as we will see it also came with a massive cost to Charles, as trust in Charles sank to an all-time low. Charles’ devious nature and unwillingness to settle until he regained what he believed to be his by birth right became increasingly transparent. As a result of the agreement, the Scots invaded England, and across England several royalist risings challenged Parliament in what is often known as the ‘Second Civil War’.

The ‘Engagement’ almost immediately made irrelevant the growing tensions between Parliament and the Army. Both came together in the face of the threat to something they held dear – be it religious independency or parliamentary pre-eminence. This war would be a short one, and one where Oliver Cromwell gained his first major decisive victory as commander of an Army. Oliver Cromwell defeated the Scots decisively at the Battle of Preston – and as a result the Scots fled north. Those in favour of the ‘Engagement’ in Scotland were ousted after Preston by the Marquis of Argyll. As a result, the Second Civil War did little to resolve anything. The main legacy of the Civil War was a change in attitude towards Charles by both Parliament and the Generals. Both were far more sceptical about trusting Charles. Coded calls for his execution appeared far more regularly in the press. However, after the Second Civil War, tensions between Parliament and the Army flared just as quickly as they had disappeared.

During the Second Civil War, Parliament had seen a resurgence. London was no longer occupied by the Army, almost all parliamentarians agreed on substantive issues with the army leaders and important leaders – notably Holles – returned to Parliament. Parliament had therefore gained in independence and strength. Parliament once again pushed for some sort of agreement with Charles, desperate for some form of Parliament-dominated political order that ensured a Presbyterian religious settlement. Parliament signed the ‘Treaty of Newport’ on terms that ensured both these demands and restored the King. For the Army, this was the last straw. Parliament at this time, instead of relying on the militia as in 1647, hoped its legitimacy could stave off the Army this time. The King in Parliament was seen by practically everyone as unarguably legitimate. The hope was that the Army would not be willing to go against it. Many members of Parliament didn’t think like this – for much of Parliament, as is often the case in times of partisan conflict, they knew something bad may come of their actions, but there was an unwillingness to consider anything than what they thought was right. William Lenthall, MP for Burford and speaker said as much – stating that this would mean the end of Parliament. Unfortunately for parliamentarians, the Army leadership cared more about ‘Independency’ than anything else at this point. Pride’s Purge – on the 5th December 1648 – represented the definitive end of the period of internal struggle that had run from 1646. The Army removed members sympathetic to a Presbyterian settlement, creating an institution that would eventually gain the unfortunate epithet ‘rump parliament’.

The Trial and Death of Charles I

How we got from Pride’s Purge to the Execution of Charles I is often seen as self-evident. A simplified narrative often takes Pride’s Purge as being the step in between a pro-regicide wanting the head of the King to be chopped off, and it being chopped off. In fact, it is not that simple. As we will see, on the 5th December, most in the Army leadership were not decided on the King’s execution. Further to, most involved recognised the political need to do something with the King and the logic in what was done. In many respects, the political elite were hoping for some resolution to a hopeless situation in December 1648, and by late January 1649 saw that this was probably the solution that made the most sense.

In the aftermath of Pride’s Purge, there was an increased sense of unity and purpose within a new consolidated political elite. This new political elite was an elite united around ‘Independency’. It was not just something that existed in the army. Instead it consisted of parliamentarians, journalists and Generals. It was not the case that Cromwell had personal dominance of the political strategy of the nation at this point. Cromwell was not irrelevant – but it is certainly not the case that most of his contemporaries would have pointed to him as the one making the decisions. He was still not head of the Army – that was Thomas Fairfax still – and Parliament still made most decisions. The Army could not directly intervene in the decision-making, even now, the legitimacy of Parliament was deep-rooted. Instead, decisions were made by a patchwork of different players inside and outside parliament, operating with similarly radical ideological and religious ideas and who were unrepresentative of the population at large. These included John Lambert, Oliver Cromwell, Philip Skippon, Thomas Harrison, Henry Ireton, Henry Vane the Younger and Bulstrode Whitlocke.

This grouping approached negotiations with Charles, hoping to secure an agreement. The Army at this point were certainly serious about permanent settlement involving Charles. In fact, Oliver Cromwell personally would continue negotiations with Charles even into January. Charles remained his usual self – equivocal and unwilling to commit to any particular agreement unless it gave him an opportunity to expand his power to a level befitting of Charles’ expansive view of prerogative. This frustrated Cromwell and other Army leaders. They realised something had to be done. Charles would wait until circumstances destabilised the Army, and while Charles still saw himself as King, nothing could be permanently settled.

Slowly the debate shifted. The new political elite responsible for decision-making realised they needed to swallow a hard pill. Charles, they now were willing to admit, would never give in to their vision of monarchy. This, as I have already stated, was the right call to make. Charles was stubborn, and had only made agreements if they gave him some ability to later regain power for himself - as if the Civil War had never happened. Nothing could or would be done until this was changed. To change this, abdication and trial were considered. It is worth pausing here. The fact that abdication was considered indicates that execution was not necessarily the only solution, or one decided upon by December 1648.

By mid-January, it had been decided that the trial was the best solution. The Rump voted to establish a court that would try the King. The fact that the Rump had assented to the establishment of the trial is telling – there was a consensus within a political elite that it needed to be done. It is not the case that it was the imposition of one man – but instead that to those with a certain belief system, the case for putting Charles on trial was convincing. In this way, it seems that the notion that Oliver Cromwell was personally responsible for the execution of the King only has a very small element of truth. He certainly consented to the trial, but not been responsible for instigating it. What’s more, as I just pointed out, Cromwell personally was responsible for continued negotiations with the King – something that sought to lessen the chances of a regicidal event. For these two reasons, regicide was the result of a political culture not a deceitful man.

The trial itself has been documented and described vividly by many historians. The trial started on the 20th January and the execution of Charles I occurred ten days later. The trial was relatively simple, John Bradshaw, the Judge, asked Charles to plead. Charles replied by questioning the authority of the court – what right did the court have to try him, if a court worked to achieve the ‘King’s justice’? This was an effective rebuke – and in this particular case, stubbornness and an unwillingness to temporarily side-line his principles – in an odd sort of way - payed off. After several days of this, the court had had enough. Officially, the punishment for refusing to plead was to slowly crush the individual unwilling to plead between two boulders – so to avoid a comically poor piece of PR, the court eventually decided on a different sentence. The court decided instead on Charles’ execution.

On the 30th January, Charles faced up to his execution. He made sure that he did this like a martyr. It is reported he wore two shirts in order to avoid shivering, because he wished to show he was not scared of death. He spoke clearly and with dignity at both the trial and the executioner’s block – although at the latter it was hard to hear him. What’s more, the regicide was clearly unpopular. To give just one telling example, the executioners wore wigs to disguise themselves – for fear of retribution from angry royalists. Charles would later become an iconic and definitive symbol for the institution of monarchy, both in England and internationally. The ‘Cult of St Charles the Martyr’ spread almost immediately, and Charles gained sympathy even from those who had previously been frustrated with his obstinacy.

Conclusion

Charles died because of his obstinacy. The likelihood that negotiation between Charles and the victors would fail was high from the start. Charles would not be willing to agree to something that didn’t give him the opportunity to reassert his power. Parliament and the Army would not be willing to give up after they had just won a hard-fought civil war. There was a big chasm between what Charles wanted and any of the other parties were willing to accept and this doomed Charles. That being said, Charles did accept two deals – the Engagement and the Treaty of Newport. This line of argument must be engaged with (that was a pun I’m afraid).

I think the argument that Charles was willing to permanently settle on the basis of either Newport or the Engagement is a flawed one. Firstly, because in each the details were importantly vague in places. For example, with the Scottish Engagement, the more serious of the proposals, the relationship between Charles and Parliament was to be later confirmed. Given that this is one of the two most important aspects of a settlement along with religion, the limitations of the Engagement are clear – they rely on Charles’ later goodwill, something that as we have seen is certainly not guaranteed. Secondly, even if Charles was willing to settle, the ultimate fact is that he didn’t. It is often tempting to ask ‘what if?’ style history – and I think there is some worth in asking questions that are ultimately ‘what if?’ style questions in some contexts – but for this question I think makes sense to avoid doing so. It is highly likely that any agreement was not going to end Charles’ stubborn nature – and any agreement would have probably preceded a long power struggle. The point is that we cannot really know what would have happened. Charles did not like to make agreements that compromised the monarchy, and eventually this became transparent. It was eventually the thing that brought him down. We do not know what he would do if the Scots won in 1648, or the Army accepted Charles’ deal with Parliament that year. In both cases, it is reasonable to suggest we cannot be certain enough about Charles’ intentions to make a reasonable judgement that it wouldn’t have changed much.

The second big conclusion that we should draw is that Oliver Cromwell was certainly not responsible for the regicide – on many levels. Firstly, he did not have complete control of the English political world in January 1649, as some like to assume. Decisions were instead made in a consensual way across a radical political elite that included ‘Independent’ MPs and Generals. Secondly, the trial made sense to the elite in early 1649 – most in the purged Parliament voted through a trial. Thirdly, the amount of background that is needed to explain why it all happened as it did in January 1649 shows how things just could not have been planned in any meaningful way. Things had to escalate considerably for the ‘Independent’ party to even consider Charles’ trial or execution.

In this way, Charles’ execution owed far more to himself than anyone else. He was unwilling to accept the facts of the post-Civil War world and believed that no one could govern without him. Doing so doomed him to death.

Yours,

WFF*

*A Quick note on the Bibliography. I have read a lot for this series on Oliver Cromwell. I will therefore set out the Bibliography in the last of the six blog posts.