Bettie, Cromwell's Favourite Daughter

NPG 514, © The National Portrait Gallery, London

Oliver Cromwell is a name that can conjure up strong emotions - even now, some 356 years after his death! To some, he is a glorious hero of republicanism - of freedom from monarchical tyranny. To others, he is the epitome of tyranny and hypocrisy. Utter the name of Cromwell, and images immediately come into view - of soldiers - Roundheads against Cavaliers - and battles such as Naseby, Marston Moor, Dunbar, and many others, flood into our thoughts. When we think of Oliver Cromwell, we think of the hard Parliamentarian - the man who became Lord Protector over the Commonwealth of England. We think of a man who ruthlessly crushed Royalists and Catholics in Ireland. We think of the man whose signature was elegantly penned onto the third spot on the death warrant of King Charles I. We think of a man who became a king in all but name - a man who eventually lived in the same palaces as the king whom he had sentenced to death. 

NPG D28739, © The National Portrait Gallery, London

But Cromwell had another side to his character - that of a loving husband and father. Cromwell's wife, Elizabeth, was a dutiful Puritan wife. Oliver's letters to his wife were full of love - so much so that I found myself completely taken aback by it. 

Oliver and Elizabeth had many children together - Their second daughter, Elizabeth, is perhaps the least well known of the daughters, and so I find her all the more interesting. To be perfectly frank, the only offspring of the Cromwells I had heard of was Richard Cromwell and Bridget Cromwell (since she married Henry Ireton). Therefore, I was pretty surprised to learn about Elizabeth Cromwell, who was affectionately nicknamed Bettie. She was painted by John Michael Wright in 1658 (the year of her death). 

NPG 952, © The National Portrait Gallery, London

Several sources claim that Elizabeth was Cromwell's favourite child, and she possessed a sweet disposition, although she seems to have suffered from what Cromwell referred to as 'vanity and a carnal mind'. Born in July of 1629, Elizabeth was the youngest of Cromwell's children, having followed several siblings, but she was then herself followed by three more. She was truly the apple of her father's eye. When I first saw the portrait featured above, I could see some facial characteristics that she had in common with her father, but I was also surprised by the rather sumptuous dress she is dressed in. Further research revealed that this portrait was most likely painted posthumously. It truly is a stunning work, as you can see - and the vibrant colours are typical of a Wright.

NPG 5497 © The National Portrait Gallery, London

It may amuse the reader to note that John Michael Wright was also a popular portrait painter during the subsequent Restoration. Wright's arguably most famous portrait is that of Charles II's volatile mistress, Barbara Palmer (nee Villiers), Lady Castlemaine, which appears on the right. One can imagine that the Lord Protector would have been quite displeased with the goings-on at the court of the Merry Monarch, but then again, when it came to the Commonwealth and the court of Charles II, it truly was a case of one extreme to the other!

The following is a rather romantic illustration of Cromwell, surrounded by his children (including Bettie), begging him not to proceed with the execution of King Charles. Apparently, Bettie was quite good at stopping prisoners from being executed, but this, sadly did not work out for the king, who was beheaded outside Whitehall Palace on the 30th of January, 1649.

NPG D32080, © The National Portrait Gallery, London

By the time she was sixteen years old, Bettie had fallen in love with the mild-mannered twenty-two-year-old Parliamentarian soldier (who was also her father's Master of the Horse) John Claypole, and she was lucky to have been able to marry for love. She and John were happy in each other's embrace and in the showers of gifts they received from her father (Cromwell made Claypole a peer, thus making his daughter Lady Claypole). The couple had several children.

In 1655, however, the then twenty-six-year-old Bettie began to have noticeable health problems. Lady Antonia Fraser states, 'Bettie Claypole was seriously ill (probably with the first manifestation of the cruel cancer that was ultimately to kill her)'. 

In August of 1658, and after a horrendously painful time, Bettie died. She was only twenty-nine! 

Cromwell was inconsolable. For such a would-be hard man, the death of his favourite little girl was almost too much for him to bear. His health went into rapid decline, and he died only a few months after Bettie. His son, Richard, became the next Lord Protector.

The poet Andrew Marvell wrote a beautiful long poem about the Lord Protector. In this, he alluded to Cromwell's devotion to his daughter when she was on her deathbed. The following is a brief excerpt from 'A Poem on the Death of Oliver Cromwell' :

'If he Eliza lov'd to that degree  

(Though who more worstly to be lov'd then she) 

If so indulgent in his own how deare 

To him  the children of the Highest were? For her he once did natures tribute pay 

For these his life adventur'd every day  

And it would be found could we his thoughts have  

Their griefs struck deepest if Eliza's last.' [2]

And so, Bettie was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey, where other members of her family (including her paternal grandmother Elizabeth) were buried. Cromwell would later be buried in the Abbey as well, but his body was later disinterred and put through posthumous execution during the Restoration. All other Cromwell family bodies were also disinterred and thrown into a pit outside the Abbey. As luck would have it, however, Bettie's tomb remained unnoticed (for it was in another part of the building), and was therefore spared the Stuart revenge. As a result, she is still interred in Westminster Abbey! You can read more about that on the Abbey's website. 

[1] Fraser, Lady Antonia. 'Cromwell, Our Chief of Men'. Weidenfeld & Nicolson Ltd, 1973.
[2] Marvell, Andrew. You can read the complete poem here.

Andrea Zuvich is a 17th-century historian and historical fiction writer. Her biographical fiction debut, His Last Mistress is about the Duke of Monmouth and his doomed relationship with Henrietta Wentworth. She also wrote the historical horror The Stuart Vampire and is currently working on William & Mary: A Novel. www.17thcenturylady.com

THE FATE OF THE REGICIDES

I am currently reading THE KING'S REVENGE by Don Jordan and Michael Walsh. This book follows the fate  of the 59 regicides (the men who signed the death warrant of Charles I), following the restoration of the monarchy.

The death warrant of Charles I

Back in 2009 I wrote about my own family connection with the regicide, Sir Michael Livesey.  Whether I am indirectly descended from Sir Michael or not, the fate of the regicides has always been of interest to me and as the anniversary of the execution of Charles I rolls around (Jan 31), this book was top of my list for Christmas.

The Commissioners of the King's trial

News of the King's execution (January 31 1649) reached the exiled royal family on February 4. On being told of his father's death, the young prince (now king), Charles burst into tears and fled from the room. He vowed vengeance on the men who had sent his father to his death. 

After his unsuccessful attempt to regain the throne by force (1650-1), Charles II retired to exile on the continent The following years (the Interregnum) was marked by failed plots to assassinate Cromwell (one of which was the subject of my own novel THE KING'S MAN) or to raise the country and restore the monarchy by force of arms. In 1658 Cromwell died, to be succeeded by his son Richard. "Tumbledown Dick", as he was nicknamed, was not the man his father had been and secret negotiations began to restore the monarchy.

Some of the men now treating with the King were the same men who had set their hands to his father's death warrant, but Charles was always a pragmatist and restoration at whatever cost was the endgame.

Before Charles II set foot back in England the round up of the regicides begain. The first five men were arrested in Ireland and imprisoned. The capture included the prosecuting lawyer, John Cook (see Geoffrey Robertson's excellent biography of Cook, THE TYRANNICIDE BRIEF). Cromwell, Ireton and Bradshaw (the judge at Charles' trial), all of whom must have topped the Most Wanted list were already dead. The first arrest on English soil was Cromwell's old comrade and the chief architect of the King's trial,  Sir Thomas Harrison.

In order to secure his restoration, Charles II issued the Declaration of Breda in which he promised clemency to those of his father's enemies who swore their fealty within forty days.  There was, of course, an exception. There would be no clemency for those excepted by Parliament. On 9 May 1660 Parliament began to debate  the "Bill of General Pardon, Indemnity and Oblivion". Despite assurances of the King's mercy, many of the regicides saw the writing on the wall and fled England. 

A  "death list" of seven regicides was agreed to: Harrison, Jones, Barkstead, Lisle, Scot, Holland and Saye. Three days after announcing the seven another fice were added - not judges but officials of the court (including Cook) and the king's executioners. However only Harrison, Cook and Jones were in custody, the others had slipped away. By the end of May a full blown manhunt was on for those regicides still in England. 

By October, the death list comprised thirty two men (23 judges and 9 officials). The trials began in October 1660. All thirty two were to be excepted from pardon. A further nineteen living regicides, who had surrendered by the 40 day deadline, were granted exception. At the end of their trials, ten were sentenced to immediate death and were  executed in the  barbaric manner of the time - hanging drawing and quartering. 

As an example to Hugh Peters who waited his turn, John Cook's end was particularly grisly. He was hanged until just conscious, cut down and his genitals cut off and dangled before his eyes. A screw (like a corkscrew) was inserted and twisted to slowly extract his intestines and these were held to the torch while Cook still lived. Normally the victim's suffering would end with the cutting out of his heart but the executioner prolonged Cook's agony until the man expired. The body was then beheaded and cleaved into 4 pieces (lengthways and horizontally) so that the four quarters could be impaled on the city gatehouse.

If the diarist John Evelyn is to be believed, the King himself was present at the executions. Evelyn wrote "I saw not their execution, but met their quarters, mangled and cut and reeking as they were brought from the gallows in baskets on the hurdle."

Those who had predeceased the restoration were not spared. The bodies of Cromwell, Ireton, Bradshaw were disinterred and hung on the gibbets at Tyburn before being beheaded. 

And all of this before the king's coronation in May 1661. 

Having dealt with the remaining English regicides, Charles unleashed a man hunt for the nineteen regicides who had evaded capture on English soil. Agents were dispatched to America and Europe, organised by a former parliamentarian, Sir George Downing (after whom Downing Street is named). His clerk, Samuel Pepys recorded the extent of Downing's intelligence network. One of Downing's agent was the beautiful female playwright, Aprha Behn (see Anita Davison's article Aphra Behn) who was sent to "turn" her former lover, William Scot into a spy for the King. 

For those surviving regicides now living on the continent or in hiding in America, they lived their lives in constant fear of assassination or kidnap. Only Edmund Ludlow lived to see Charles II's death, dying of natural causes in Switzerland in 1691. My own reputed ancestor, Sir Michael Livesey died in the Netherlands in 1665, allegedly at the hands of Downing's agents.

It is a fascinating book and, for someone like me, with the reading attention span of a gnat (these days), an easy, if disturbing, read. 

JAMES HIND – A Highway Man's Highwayman...

Captain James Hind

I no longer have young children so the BBC series of “Horrible Histories” has only just come to my attention (I now record them and watch them in guilty secret over my lunch).  I am therefore ashamed to say that this blog is inspired entirely by a “Horrible History” on the seventeenth century highwayman,  Captain James Hind. 

The writer in me immediately jumped to the conclusion that Captain Hind would make a marvellous character in a story (a sort of precursor to Dick Turpin and the highwaymen of romantic literature) but he was indeed a very real person. The Newgate Chronicles record his life and exploits in detail and indeed the popular press of the day made much of his exploits. 

He began life as an apprentice to a butcher but quickly tired of this life and absconded to London where he fell into bad company, discovering the twin pleasures of the bottle and a mistress. Sadly the lady concerned was apprehended in the act of pick pocketing and she and James were confined to Newgate where he fell into the company of a notorious highwayman, Thomas Allen. On their release, Allen took Hind on as his “apprentice in crime”.  

According to the chronicle “Their first adventure was at Shooters Hill, where they met with a gentleman and his servant. Hind being perfectly raw and inexperienced, his companion was willing to have a proof of his courage, and therefore stayed at some distance while the captain rode up and, singly, took from them fifteen pounds; but returned the gentleman twenty shillings, to bear his expenses on the road, with such a pleasant air that the gentleman protested he would never hurt a hair of his head if it should at any time be in his power. Allen was prodigiously pleased both with the bravery and generosity of his new comrade, and they mutually swore to stand by one another to the utmost of their power.”

It is not clear from the chronicle how Hind (and his companion) came to their political beliefs. One is left to assume, like most young men of the period, they had fought in the first Civil War for the King’s side. However following the execution of Charles I in 1649 Hind and Allen became zealots for the royalist cause, vowing “never to spare any regicides who came their way”.

As incredible as it sounds, one such regicide (the first of several!) did come their way shortly thereafter – Oliver Cromwell.  Unfortunately for our heroes, Oliver had a train of 7 men with him and Allen was overpowered and subsequently executed. Hind made good his escape, 

killing his horse in his haste to get away. 

Hind’s reputation began to grow and among the stories told of him we find the following anecdotes:

• Several wonderful stories about how he procured a new horse!

• An encounter with the puritan Hugh Peters in which he bested him at quoting the scriptures (and stole 30 gold coins and Peters’ coat).

• He held up the man who had presided over the trial of Charles I, Bradshaw, sparing his life and saying "I fear neither you nor any king-killing son of a whore alive. I have now as much power over you as you lately had over the King, and I should do God and my country good service if I made the same use of it; but live, villain, to suffer the pangs of thine own conscience; till Justice shall lay her iron hand upon thee, and require an answer for thy crimes in a way more proper for such a monster, who art unworthy to die by any hands but those of the common hangman, and at any other place than Tyburn. Nevertheless, though I spare thy life as a regicide, be assured that, unless thou deliverest thy money immediately, thou shalt die for thy obstinacy."

• After holding up another regicide, Colonel Harrison, and relieving him of his purse, he very nearly got caught and unfortunately his pursuer died at his hand.

My favourite story is that of his encounter with a coach of young ladies. 

“He went up to them in a genteel manner, told them that he was a patron of the fair sex, and that it was purely to win the favour of a hard-hearted mistress that he travelled the country. "But, ladies," added he, "I am at this time reduced to the necessity of asking relief, having nothing to carry me on in my intended prosecution of adventures." The young ladies, who had most of them read a pretty many romances, could not help conceiting they had met with some Quixote or Amadis de Gaul, who was saluting them in the strain of knight-errantry. "Sir Knight," said one of the pleasantest among them, "we heartily commiserate your condition, and are very much troubled that we cannot contribute towards your support; but we have nothing about us but a sacred depositum, which the laws of your order will not suffer you to violate." Hind was pleased to think he had met with such agreeable gentlewomen, and for the sake of the jest could freely have let them pass unmolested if his necessities at this time had not been very pressing. "May I, bright ladies, be favoured with the knowledge of what this sacred depositum, which you speak of, is, that so I may employ my utmost abilities in its defence, as the laws of knight-errantry require?" The lady who spoke before, and who suspected the least of any one in the company, told him that the depositum she had spoken of was three thousand pounds, the portion of one of the company, who was going to bestow it upon the knight who had won her good will by his many past services. "My humble duty be presented to the knight," said he, "and be pleased to tell him that my name is Captain Hind; that out of mere necessity I have made bold to borrow part of what, for his sake, I wish were twice as much; and that I promise to expend the sum in defence of injured lovers and the support of gentlemen who profess knight-errantry." At the name of Captain Hind they were sufficiently startled, there being nobody then living in England who had not heard of him. Hind, however, bid them not be affrighted, for he would not do them the least hurt, and desired no more than one thousand pounds out of the three. This the ladies very thankfully gave in an instant (for the money was tied up in separate bags), and the captain wished them all a good journey, and much joy to the bride.”

Sadly for our hero his days were numbered. He joined Charles II’s abortive attempt to regain the throne which ended at the battle of Worcester on September 21 1651and although he escaped the battle, he was captured in London and tried in Worcester, not for the murder of the man 

at Knole, but for high treason. He went to the gallows professing that he had only ever targeted parliamentary supporters and shown unerring generosity to those of the royalist adherence.

He was hung drawn and quartered at Worcester on September 24, 1652 aged 34.

And now you know the facts enjoy the Horrible Histories take on our hero. 

Further Reading:  Executed Today and Outlaws and Highwaymen

SPIES, AGENTS AND MR. SECRETARY THURLOE

One of the aspects of being a writer of historical novels that I particularly love is the ability to weave my fictional characters' lives into the real events and characters of the day. My novel THE KING’S MAN, in particular, has its feet firmly in the turbulent events of 1654 when a number of generally inept plots to restore Charles II to the throne were foiled.  Behind the unravelling of these plots is one man, the singular spy master of the age, JOHN THURLOE.

                John Thurloe so intrigued me that he actually appears in both my books and a large folio print of the man hangs in my stairwell. Thurloe came from a fine tradition of spy masters to the English Court, such as Sir Francis Walsingham and Robert Cecil who dominated Elizabeth’s reign and saved his Queen from assasination on many occasions.

                Thurloe, born in 1616, began his professional life as a lawyer, working for Oliver St. John, the English Statesman and judge whose alliance with parliament and personal connections to Oliver Cromwell would have brought Thurloe into the parliamentary circle of influence during the early part of the Civil War.  Under St. John’s patronage he served as secretary to the Commissioners of the Treaty of Uxbridge (an unsuccessful attempt to bring a peaceful resolution to the first civil war) . He also recorded the negotiations with the Dutch in the later years of the 1640s.

                He had impressed the right people and in 1652, the Secretary of State died and Thurloe was appointed to the position. The Commonwealth regime under Cromwell was poised in a precarious position with threats to its stability over continuing dissensions in religion matters and with the underground activities of the royalists both at home and in exile abroad and in 1653 the portfolio of “Clerk to the Committe for Foreign Affairs” was added to his duties, along with sole management of foreign intelligence.  Later, he also gained control of the post office, enabling easy interception of the mail to boost his intelligence gathering. Thurloe had become Cromwell’s spy master.

                Thurloe set about building an intricate network of agents. They were not hard to find. There were plenty of disenchanted and penniless royalists happy to exchange their former loyalties for regular pay. Names like Joseph Bampfield, Richard Willys, Henshaw and Wildman are all characters who cross my fictional agent's path in THE KING’S MAN.  Through this web of deceit, Thurloe managed to foil the Ship Inn plot (or Gerard’s plot) which is the central plot to my story and to infiltrate the famous Sealed Knot.

                He recruited the mathematicians John Wallis and Samuel Morland to his service as cryptographers. Ironically Morland was later to become a double agent and was instrumental in the restoration of Charles II.  In 1657 Thurloe became a member of Cromwell’s second Council of State and began to accept public posts, such as Chancellor of the University of Glasgow.  Following Cromwell’s death he transferred his loyalty to Richard Cromwell, but the younger Cromwell was not the man his father had been and in 1660 Charles II returned to the throne.

                Following the Restoration, inevitably Thurloe was arrested for High Treason but he was never tried.  His extensive knowledge of foreign affairs made him too valuable to the new regime and he was released on the promise that he could be called upon to assist England in its troubles with foreign powers but his days of influence were over.  He had been plagued by ill health for many years and died in February 1668 in his chambers at Lincoln’s Inn.

                During the reign of William III, workmen discovered the entire collection of Thurloe’s State Papers in a false ceiling during renovations to his former home. These are now readily available online.

                Like his predecessors, Thurloe’s strength lay in his ability to work behind the scenes and he had the absolute trust and confidence of the Lord Protector to whom he remained completely loyal, even advocating that Cromwell accept the crown.  Above all the temptations of high office, he seems to have remained absolutely honest and true to himself.  Even one of his political opponents writing in 1659 said: “...(Secretary Thurloe)...having taken no man’s money, invaded no man’s privilege, nor abused his own authority, which is and merits to be great, the weight of all foreign and almost all domestic affairs lying on him...And though intelligences have been infinitely chargeable, yet without it, into whose hands had this nation fallen?...”

                I will leave the last word for Richard Cromwell who is famously said to have described Mr. Secretary Thurloe as possessing “...the key to wicked men's hearts...”

Reference:

Philip Aubrey:  Mr. Secretary Thurloe