55 Days
Howard Brenton
WHO Oliver Cromwell, Lieutenant General, MP and second-in-command of the Parliamentary Army.
TO WHOM Lord Thomas Fairfax, Commander-in-Chief of the Parliamentary Army.
WHERE Cromwell’s billet in a room above a tavern, Knottingley, Yorkshire.
WHEN December 1648.
WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED The play tells the story of the fifty-five days that preceded the execution of King Charles I. The monologue comes close to the start of the play in the first of Cromwell’s scenes. So far we know that Parliament has voted against bringing the King to trial and that the Army, angry at the outrage, has taken it upon itself to ‘purge’ Parliament of those who would seek to protect the King. Chiefly the Presbyterians, to whom the King has promised that he will rid the church of Bishops. Cromwell was in Pontefract at the time, where he has been fighting continued opposition. In this scene, Fairfax himself, Commander-in-Chief of the Parliamentary Army and very much opposed to the purge, has travelled a night and a day to inform Cromwell of the news. He demands to know whether Cromwell supports such a purge and wonders whether it is he who has ordered it. Cromwell tells Fairfax that he did not order the purge, but accepts that the Army has its own mind and for that reason he cannot condemn the purge. The speech follows their heated exchange.
WHAT TO CONSIDER
• | For six years the country has been ravaged by a bitter Civil War. |
• | Read the play and familiarise yourself with its historical and political context. |
• | Both Cromwell and the King are convinced that God is on their side. |
WHAT HE WANTS
• | An end to the fighting. |
• | Reassurance from Fairfax. |
• | A sign or a message from God. |
KEYWORDS skirmish sneaking siege scrap screeching safe surrender horror Devil starved hatred
Cromwell
Let me tell you what I saw this morning. I was out with a company from the Ferrybridge encampment, what, a mile from Pontefract? There was a skirmish, a group of the King’s Scots fighters sneaking away from the siege. We cornered them in a scrap of woodland. I called out, ‘Lads, lads, don’t fight, no cause. You have no cause.’ All but one ran off, dropping their weapons, but that one, he came at us screeching like a devil. A musketeer fired, he went down… […] And I saw… it was a boy. What, thirteen? I knelt down to help the wound, it was not too bad. I asked him where he was from. Lanark, he said. Lanark, the Scottish Lowlands, good farming country. ‘What are you fighting for, lad?’ I said. ‘For good King Charles,’ he said. ‘And what did King Charles ever give you?’ I asked. ‘Five shilling,’ he said. ‘And promise of no bishops.’ […] But I thought: this boy, maybe this is the Lord coming to our aid! I said, ‘If you’re a godly lad, go back to Pontefract, tell your officers they can have safe passage back to Scotland. Surrender and we can all go back to our farms.’ ‘Who says so?’ he asked. ‘Lieutenant General Cromwell says so,’ I replied. And… and… […] The horror. On his face. The horror. ‘The Devil!’ he shouted, staring at me. ‘The Devil’s breath on me! The Devil!’ He got to his feet, the musketeer had reloaded. ‘No, don’t fire,’ I said. ‘Let him go.’ What do you think, Thomas, will the boy see his country again, his family farm? If they’re not all starved to death? […] The hatred. What can we do about the hatred? 