Although
planning a major conference from the cosy confines of a pub is not usually a
good idea, writing to Tom Reilly, I said I look forward to reviewing the book.
It is hoped that he will produce a more objective account of Cromwell and the
English bourgeoise’s adventure in Ireland. It is the least the Irish people
deserve. It is also hoped that the new historiography produced by the book will
not add to the already crowded book market lending justification to the
centuries-long plunder of Ireland.”[1]
As I did not hold out too much hope for this conference and not wanting to be
associated with the defence of Genocide, I turned down Reilly’s request to
participate.
One of the
major problems of this collection of essays is its failure to place Cromwell
and the English bourgeoise’s military and economic intervention in Ireland in
an objective context. As was said in the introduction, whether conscious or not,
the essayists defend Genocide. The lead protagonist of this group of historians
is Tom Reilly.[2]
Reilly’s unconditional defence of Cromwell is well known. Reilly states in the
preface to this volume that ‘it is virtually impossible to reconcile the image
of the genocidal maniac of the Irish imagination with this virtuous pillar of
local society who became king in all but name’ (p. xii). Micheál Ó Siochrú
replies, “In fact, it is not difficult. Ireland was a place apart, and the
historical narrative from the medieval to the modern is awash with Englishmen (almost
entirely men) who behaved in a civilised manner at home before seemingly losing
the plot on crossing the Irish Sea”.[3]
Although Micheál
Ó Siochrú welcomes the book, he offers a somewhat stinging rebuke, writing, “Overall,
the results are decidedly mixed. The pressure on academics to publish,
especially in Britain, has resulted in a tsunami of edited collections in the
last twenty years, often consisting of little more than a random selection of
essays loosely grouped around a general theme. Unfortunately, the current
volume falls within this category and the primary responsibility must lie with
the editors. All three are accomplished scholars and experts in early modern
Irish, Scottish, and English history, but they appear to have taken their
collective eye off the ball in this instance. The introduction is
unsatisfactorily slight and curiously slapdash in places. They write that the
idea for the book ‘came, as many good ideas do, in a pub’ and that, ‘unlike so
many such ideas, this one lasted beyond the morning after’ (p. 2). The idea may
have survived, but their commitment to the project after that seems
half-hearted at best.”[4]
Reilly is
well within his right to defend Cromwell, and nothing wrong with his specialisation
in Cromwell studies. However, Reilly’s love affair with Cromwell goes too far. He
writes, “There is no one more Irish than I am. But a miscarriage of justice is
a miscarriage of justice. Cromwell is a convenient bogeyman. He was an honourable
enemy.” Leading academics have accused
Reilly of being blinkered and deliberately overlooking evidence. Reilly replied,
“They closed ranks when they saw this pugnacious amateur taking them on. If I’m
ever proven wrong, I’ll shut up and get off the stage.”
The subject
of Oliver Cromwell in Ireland is a contentious one, to say the least, so much
so that significant numbers of historians have steered well clear of the topic.
The debate over Cromwell in Ireland has tended to reveal more about
20th-century politics than early modern historiography. The historiography is
divided into two camps. On the one side, we have Tom Reilly and his supporters
who believe that “Cromwell was Framed.” Reilly’s books have been aimed at
demolishing some myths about Cromwell’s and Parliament's behaviour in Ireland.
Tom Reilly’s first book claimed that no civilians were killed in Drogheda by
Cromwell’s forces and that Cromwell did not intentionally target civilians
during his anti-Catholic campaign. “There were no eyewitnesses who give us ideas
of civilian deaths,” he said of the two sieges, claiming that it was two propagandists who spread the
word about Cromwell. Reilly maintains that Cromwell had “no deliberate policy
to kill the innocent.” He sees his book as “the start of Cromwell’s
rehabilitation.”
The
opposition to his thesis on Cromwell in Ireland is equally reckless and
dangerous. Reilly’s historiography has many opponents. Among them are the
historians Simon Schama, John Morrill and Micheál Ó Siochrú[9]. Simon Schama,
in 2001, threw a live hand grenade into the debate when he referred to Oliver
Cromwell's alleged massacre of 3,000 unarmed enemy soldiers at the Irish town
of Drogheda in 1649 as a 'war crime' and 'an atrocity.” Schama claimed in his
History of Britain series on BBC2. Whether Schama believes Cromwell was a “war
criminal” is not essential; his use of inflammatory language is not conducive
to a healthy debate of the subject.
As Bernard
Capp, professor of history at Warwick, pointedly wrote, “War crimes are a
twentieth-century term, not a seventeenth-century one, and its use is
problematic,' said 'It is true he treated the enemy in Ireland much harder than
elsewhere, but there was a strong military rationale.''A bloodthirsty episode
would have served the purpose of driving the war to a speedy conclusion.
It is hard
not to disagree with Micheál Ó Siochrú when he writes that “Reilly’s chapter in
the book is a huge disappointment, simply restating arguments made in the
1990s, with no more than a cursory effort to engage with the extensive
criticisms of his work since then. He concludes bizarrely that those who refuse
to accept his interpretation ‘will be left behind to become part of some
insular, embittered partisan clique whose roots are planted firmly in obduracy’
(p. 74).
Reilly’s
insult goes too far and has no place in academic debate. The fact that Relly
was allowed to have it in print says much about the editorial process and
standard. As Ó Siochrú points out, not all of Reilly’s comrades go along with
his madness. He writes, “Ironically, Reilly’s obstinacy in the face of the
evidence is exposed by Nick Poyntz’s forensic analysis of the news from Ireland
at the outset of Cromwell’s campaign. Through a painstaking engagement with a
range of material, he reaches the conclusion that Reilly’s determination to
discredit the inclusion in Cromwell’s published correspondence of the phrase
‘and many inhabitants’, relating to those killed at the siege of Drogheda, is
hard to sustain.”
Conclusion
I agree with Micheál
Ó Siochrú that the conference and subsequent book represent a missed
opportunity. This is not to say the book is without merit. David Farr’s chapter
on Henry Ireton is well worth a read. But as Ó Siochrú says, “Scholarship has
moved on enormously in the last twenty years and yet the focus of this volume
remains disappointingly old-fashioned, obsessing over popular perceptions of
Cromwell and the issue of personal accountability. Despite the best efforts of
individual contributors, some ideas are perhaps best left in the pub.”
[1]
Was Oliver Cromwell Really Framed- https://keith-
[2]
Was Oliver Cromwell Really Framed- https://keith-perspective.blogspot.com/2019/03/was-oliver-cromwell-really-framed.html
[3]
https://www.historyireland.com/cromwell-and-ireland-new-perspectives/
[4]
https://www.historyireland.com/cromwell-and-ireland-new-perspectives/
