Paul Lay is the editor of History Today and a founder of BBC History Magazine. He is also a specialist in early modern history and, in 2020, published a book on the Cromwellian Protectorate, Providence Lost. We caught up with him at the Chalke Valley History Festival to talk discuss it.

You are here at Chalke Valley today talking about your new book, Providence Lost: The Rise and Fall of Cromwell's Protectorate. Can you summarize it?

It's a book born of frustration, I suppose, because so few know anything about this period, which is a great surprise. It's so dramatic: there are so many extraordinary characters; there are big events - there's a gunpowder plot, assassinations, wars, conquests. And, above all, there's an attempt by the Cromwellian state to take on the Spanish in the New World, which I argue is a turning point for the regime that ultimately ends in their failing. Of all the periods of British history, over the last hundred years this is probably the period that's had the best sustained level of scholarship, and yet very little of it has made it to the public sphere: it's just something that people don't know anything about. The civil wars are quite neglected, but people know they happened, whereas I think most people believe the Protectorate to be a time when everything is banned: puritans are in the ascendant and nothing happens. That's absolutely not true, because so much happens in the decade between Charles I's execution in 1649 and the restoration of the monarchy and the return to a pre-civil war form of government in 1660, following the collapse of the Protectorate. of the monarchy and the return to a pre-civil war form of government in 1660, following the collapse of the Protectorate. of the Stuart monarchy in 1660. It's so dramatic and it's so important for the future of Britain, of Britain and Ireland, for Europe and for global politics, because it sees the birth of the British Empire.

Is that what draws you to the period?

Well, that's one reason I wrote the book, but that wasn't what attracted me initially. I was very lucky when I was at university that I had so many excellent teachers and scholars who concentrated on the period. Barry Coward was one, who was Oliver Cromwell's biographer, among other things. There was also Michael Hunter, who's a brilliant historian of that period, Vanessa Harding, Patrick Little, all kinds of people. And so I concentrated on the early modern.

I also became interested in the ideas propounded in this period, which are based on Venetian republicanism. The idea of Venice as the most perfectly run society on earth was something that appealed to classical republicans like John Milton, and particularly to James Harrington, who wrote Oceana (an advice book for Cromwell that laid out a form of governance based upon the Venetian Republic). Venice had an elected monarch, the doge, and various checks and balances. To a certain extent this was something that John Lambert had tried to introduce with the Instrument of Government adopted by the English state. It provided a legal basis for the rule of Oliver Cromwell and the Major Generals between 1653 and 1657. adopted by the English state. It provided a legal basis for the rule of Oliver Cromwell and the Major Generals between 1653 and 1657. , and which later underpinned the Humble Petition and Advice rather than army officers, and that brought the constitution slightly closer to a pre-civil wars state. It ran from 1657 until the end of the Interregnum. rather than army officers, and that brought the constitution slightly closer to a pre-civil wars state. It ran from 1657 until the end of the Interregnum. .

It was never really followed through because they couldn't decide who would be the leader: whether it should be a king on a hereditary principle, a king who was elected, a protector who was hereditary, or a protector who was elected. Those were the four choices, and by the time Cromwell died in 1658, the decision hadn't been taken. So, what you actually ended up with was a hereditary protector. Whether that was Cromwell's wish or not, no one will ever know, because it was communicated to the council by John Thurloe, his spymaster. It may have been Thurloe's wish; it may have been Cromwell's wish. It may have been Thurloe thinking that it was the council's wish. Who knows? But it meant that the settlement was unfulfilled, there was no conclusion regarding the succession.

In terms of security, people didn't want to go back to a faction-ridden polity with lots of different ideas, whether religious or political, in case it descended into civil war again. Security is extremely important: even in the twenty-first century when we look at the pandemic, people will give up a lot of liberty for security. That's even more the case in the mid-seventeenth century, after the experiences that people had gone through. It's no coincidence that this is also the time in which Thomas Hobbes, the great political philosopher, wrote Leviathan. He was a person who had come to terms with the regime even though he was by disposition a monarchist.

The solution to all of this was to revert to the ancient constitution, the monarchy with Lords and Commons. But of course, it never reverted to exactly the same thing. I think this is why when people talk about a British revolution, which is a term that is often used about this period, there's always a contradiction there. The question to ask is whether it's a revolution in terms of a rupture, which is the way we tend to think of revolutions, or whether it's more of a revolution as in the turning of the wheel. Because the state never returns to exactly the same thing: there's never a Personal Rule and without recourse to parliament. and without recourse to parliament. again, it's impossible. Parliament from then on is in the ascendant. There's lots to be worked out – you still have the 'Glorious Revolution' to come in the late-seventeenth century, you still have the Hanoverian Settlement to come – but the monarchy's never absolute again.

What about Charles II? Would you say that after the Oxford Parliament he established an autocratic, personal rule?

I think Charles II realized that he had to be quite forgiving of those who had opposed his father. Although there was the exclusion of regicides from the Act of Indemnity and Oblivion government for their behaviour during the civil wars. government for their behaviour during the civil wars. , many were not executed, like John Lambert or John Milton – despite him making no attempt to recant at all. I think there was a genuine concern that the kind of conflicts that had been seen in the mid-seventeenth century could happen again. You're still working through that process, but it's very, very difficult to imagine Charles II acting in a way that would provoke it. The warning shot across the bows had been made and there was no reversion. That's not to say that monarchs wouldn’t try it. Of course, they'll make power grabs, but there was nothing like Charles I's Personal Rule.

Do you think that an English republic or some sort of protectorate could ever have worked in the long-term?

Not really, no. The republic just doesn't last very long. The Protectorate, of course, is not a republic. This is what people get wrong about it. It's a quasi-monarchy, comparable to the Venetian settlement or something like that, and Cromwell is a quasi-monarchical figure. It could have been made to work if there had been an elected protector, perhaps with someone like John Lambert or indeed Henry Cromwell, who was a much more capable figure than his older brother, Richard. But it never really had the backing of the wider public or the gentry, but including those who were landed and entitled to a coat of arms, and who could sit in the House of Commons. It typically included the locally powerful, such as knights and other important people in towns and the counties. , sitting immediately below the monarch in terms of blood and title; or the quality of being noble (virtuous, honourable, etc.) in character. , but including those who were landed and entitled to a coat of arms, and who could sit in the House of Commons. It typically included the locally powerful, such as knights and other important people in towns and the counties. , or anyone else.

To a certain extent what you could say – and I think this reflects the weakness of the early modern state – is that despite the Rule of the Major-Generals, there was no real attempt to reform the country. There were extremists among the Major-Generals like Charles Worsley, who looked after Staffordshire and Lancashire and Cheshire, who literally drove himself to an early death by his manic prosecution of these ideas. But most people were pragmatic, because on the whole the country worked, and it worked on the old inheritance. What the regime was good at was legal reform. There was a general sense that the rule of law was maintained. There was not widespread persecution of people.

In terms of religion, which was a major factor – the Thirty Years' War had just ended – it was a very capacious religious settlement. That worried people. They liked the idea of a national church: Presbyterians liked it without bishops, Anglicans liked it with bishops. But essentially, the idea was for people to conform. It goes back to the idea that one follows the religion of the ruler. It was a very important doctrine in the mid-seventeenth century. When you're not quite sure what the ruler's doctrine is, it’s difficult. Cromwell's an independent, he's what we might now call a Congregationalist, but he's with a group of people who have disparate religious ideas. It's that conflict between the two sides that reveals the tensions of the regime in 1657, at the end of the Rule of the Major-Generals.

The prosecution of the Quaker James Nayler reveals just how lax, actually, the religious laws are. Nayler rides through Bristol in imitation of Christ, which to most people is an act of blasphemy. There's not much controversy about that. Unfortunately, the penalty for blaspheming, even repeatedly, is only six months in prison. This seems completely unacceptable and so parliament becomes both judge and jury of Nayler. I think Cromwell is very disturbed by this. He warns that if you don't have a rule of law, if you're just making up laws as you go, if you have retrospective laws, then there's always a possibility that you will become the victim one day. You've got to settle something on a foundation.

This is the appeal of the king, which is offered by more moderate people. It's also the impetus behind the Humble Petition and Advice, which is the Instrument of Government amended with more restricted religious liberties. That satisfies Presbyterians to a certain extent, but annoys people like John Lambert, who essentially leaves the scene at that point. But it's essentially irreconcilable ideas between religious liberty and religious order, and that eventually is where the regime unravels.

When the crown is refused by Cromwell, the state is in a limbo constitutionally, and it's the beginning of the end. His eldest surviving son Richard is not capable: he doesn't have the support of the army, which was the foundation upon which the regime rested, and he's not schooled at all. He has very, very little experience. Henry Cromwell, his younger brother, would have been a more suitable inheritor, but Richard's claim is through hereditary succession of the protector. Henry, a much more capable figure, would have to have been elected in some way. And this is just not resolved. You find the country is falling into, again, political and religious factionalism. There's the fear that civil war will return, and so General George Monck, the head of Parliament's Scottish army, marches down to London. After that, the logical step is to recall the king, Charles II.

Cromwell himself is a very controversial figure. What is your take on him?

He's a very elusive figure and he's full of contradictions. What we know for certain is that he does believe in a very advanced form of religious liberty, which is quite unusual for the mid-seventeenth century, certainly for a head of state. His soldiering career might be overrated because, in comparison with other great British commanders like Marlborough or Wellington, he never fights overseas. The one great overseas venture during this time – although Cromwell’s not part of it – is a disaster. I think he's handicapped politically by his dependence on a providential worldview and God. In battle he's bold and decisive because battle is a black and white thing – we either win or we lose. Politics is much more complicated, particularly when you have sects and various people fighting with one another and you have to deal with them. He is that arbiter between the army, between parliament, between the various factions. But that's an exhausting process, and it's not one to which there's an obvious answer other than that he becomes king. He doesn't take that option, again purely for religious reasons. So that's a failing. He's incredibly indecisive as a politician, incredibly decisive as a soldier. And that's for the same reason: the providential worldview works in battle. It doesn't work in politics.

Your book looks beyond the Three Kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland (Wales was considered to be part of England). of England, Scotland and Ireland (Wales was considered to be part of England). , to the British Atlantic and the Venetian system. What do you think are the benefits of taking that wider perspective?

It's a more complete picture. This has been a trend in history in general. It seems odd, given the importance of empire to British history, that we should ignore the moments when it first comes to the fore, which is just what's happening here. Britain was relatively late to the imperial venture. Spain obviously is advanced, but so is Portugal. France is around about the same level as Britain. The Dutch in many ways are ahead, not just in the Caribbean but in Asia as well. I think it's probably right to say that Britain is successful later on for the same reasons that it first develops. So, what's striking about the Western Design is that it's the first state-backed venture that Britain becomes involved in. Before that, it's been privateering, it's been buccaneers like Francis Drake, Walter Ralegh, John Hawkins, all those people. Even after that, it becomes essentially one of private enterprise. The East India Company basically runs India as its personal fiefdom. The British government is perfectly happy to take the money that comes from that because it doesn't have to do much for those rewards – it just offers chances. It's exactly the same for the Royal Africa Company, which Charles II is involved in. So, what makes Britain stronger in the eighteenth century is what makes it relatively weak in the seventeenth century, which is that it doesn't have the infrastructure that Spain, and perhaps Portugal, provides. Nor does it have the legitimacy that the papacy gives to Spain and Portugal. It's very small scale, and a matter of private enterprise. There's a strong element of contingency. Britain's success as an imperial state is not due to any forethought; it's due to the fact that the practices that they have developed are turned into something advantageous. That's the chance factor, and you see Spain's decline and Britain's ascendance.

So, what’s next?

I'm going to start a new book, which is sort of a follow up to this, on the themes I've just talked about but of a global nature. I want to have a look at the Restoration from something of a global perspective, but also in terms of the power play. The thing I'm most interested, just in history in general, is power: how do you get it, how do you lose it? I always think that the best maxim for a historian is a question asked by Lenin: ‘who, whom?’ Everyone should ask it.

So, the book’s about power. What you see at the Restoration is this jockeying, where there are people who've been on the other side who want to be on this side, there are people who've been on the opposite side who want to stand by their principles. There are people who've never had any principles and they're jockeying for power. It reveals character, I think. That's the one thing that you can say about Cromwell: he's a pretty incorruptible figure. He's not a man who's particularly bothered about power.

With which historic figures would you want to have a zoom chat?

St Paul and Wagner. I quite like Hildegard of Bingen, she would be quite a good character. There's a person called Paolo Sarpi, who was a Venetian thinker, and I've always thought he was pretty wonderful. Miles Davis? And there is a very interesting actor called Gene Tierney, who would be the other person. and politician living in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Miles Davis was an influential jazz musician and trumpeter, who lived in the twentieth century. Gene Tierney was renowned as a great beauty. She was a leading film and stage actress and was contemporary with Miles Davis. I don't know what language we'd all speak. I presume we would have some sort of auto-translate!

If you could go back to any point in history, with a safety bubble, where would you go, or when?

I think it would be the fall of Tenochtitlan and the conquest of Mexico. I think that's the thing I would most like to have seen in terms of witnessing people entering what must have seemed like another planet. All that drama! If I had the money for a Netflix series, I would do the conquest of Mexico – it would make a great series.

You can purchase Paul Lay's book, Providence Lost: The Rise and Fall of Cromwell's Protectorate here, and you can find out more about History Today here.