The return of the maypole

The return of the king follows a death. As the Lord Protector of the three kingdoms draws his last breath a great storm rises up, blowing down houses, trees and ships at sea. To Charles Fitzroy it is as if the elements themselves were celebrating Oliver Cromwell’s passing. But it was expected that tempests should mark the death of great rulers and in 1658 the violent winds must have appeared less a celebration than a warning of coming bloodshed.

There was no more dangerous a time in a nation’s life than the passing of a ruler when the succession was in doubt. Although Cromwell was not a king in name, the idea of monarchy had survived the trial and execution of Charles I. Even civil war and the establishment of the protectorate could not erase its resonances and mystery, and its absence had left the political elite traumatised. For a month after Cromwell’s death a wooden effigy of the Protector lay in state at Somerset House clad in royal purple, holding an orb and sceptre as for a king. His funeral, when it took place, was based without any sense of irony on that of James I.

Cromwell’s son, Richard, inherited his title and the old soldier had died hoping that Richard would also inherit the loyalty of those who had served him. But while Cromwell had, in effect, earned the protectorship on the battlefield, as kings had won crowns before him, the divine traditions of a royal succession could not apply easily to Richard. From where did he draw his right? Richard Cromwell had to earn his place and he was a decent man in difficult times. ‘The vulture died,’ an anonymous royalist had it, ‘and out of his ashes rose a titmouse.