Oliver Cromwell Quotes

Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third — ['Treason!' cried the Speaker] — may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.

Oliver Cromwell can kiss my singing emerald scrotum!

Do not trust to the cheering, for those very persons would shout as much if you and I were going to be hanged.

It's said that science will dehumanize people and turn them into numbers. That's false, tragically false. Look for yourself. This is the concentration camp and crematorium at Auschwitz. This is where people were turned into numbers. Into this pond were flushed the ashes of some four million people. And that was not done by gas. It was done by arrogance, it was done by dogma, it was done by ignorance. When people believe that they have absolute knowledge, with no test in reality, this is how they behave. This is what men do when they aspire to the knowledge of gods. Science is a very human form of knowledge. We are always at the brink of the known; we always feel forward for what is to be hoped. Every judgment in science stands on the edge of error and is personal. Science is a tribute to what we can know although we are fallible. In the end, the words were said by Oliver Cromwell: "I beseech you in the bowels of Christ: Think it possible you may be mistaken." I owe it as a scientist to my friend Leo Szilard, I owe it as a human being to the many members of my family who died here, to stand here as a survivor and a witness. We have to cure ourselves of the itch for absolute knowledge and power. We have to close the distance between the push-button order and the human act. We have to touch people.

He who stops being better stops being good.

I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.

Necessity has no law.

Consider That Ye May Be Wrong.

God made them as stubble to our swords.

I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.

Subtlety may deceive you; intedrity never will.

A man never goes so far as when he does not know whither he is going.

It is a bad year for kings,” said Gondy, shaking his head; “look at England, madame.” “Yes; but fortunately we have no Oliver Cromwell in France,” replied the Queen. “Who knows?” said Gondy; “such men are like thunderbolts—one recognized them only when they have struck.

The History of Ireland in two words: Ah well. The Invasion by the Vikings: Ah well. The Invasion by the Normans. The Flight of the Earls, Mr Oliver Cromwell. Daniel O’Connell, Robert Emmett, The Famine, Charles Stewart Parnell, Easter Rising, Michael Collins, Éamon De Valera, Éamon De Valera again (Dear Germany, so sorry to learn of the death of your Mr Hitler), Éamon De Valera again, the Troubles, the Tribunals, the Fianna Fáil Party, The Church, the Banks, the eight hundred years of rain: Ah well. In the Aeneid Virgil tells it as Sunt lacrimae rerum, which in Robert Fitzgerald’s translation means ‘They weep for how the world goes’, which is more eloquent than Ah well but means the same thing.

They hit you if you can’t say your name in Irish, if you can’t say the Hail Mary in Irish, if you can’t ask for the lavatory pass in Irish. It helps to listen to the big boys ahead of you. They can tell you about the master you have now, what he likes and what he hates. One master will hit you if you don’t know that Eamon De Valera is the greatest man that ever lived. Another master will hit you if you don’t know that Michael Collins was the greatest man that ever lived. Mr. Benson hates America and you have to remember to hate America or he’ll hit you. Mr. O’Dea hates England and you have to remember to hate England or he’ll hit you. If you ever say anything good about Oliver Cromwell they’ll all hit you.  •

I have not the particular shining bauble or feather in my cap for crowds to gaze at or kneel to, but I have power and resolution for foes to tremble at.

As a baby, Oliver Cromwell was abducted by his grandfather’s pet monkey.

If these the Times, then this must be the Man. [Andrew Marvell on Oliver Cromwell]

the historical sociologist Oliver Cromwell Cox once speculated that without capitalism “the world might never have experienced race prejudice.

Great-Man” view of the British historian Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881), who asserted that history is dominated by the deeds of great men, such as Oliver Cromwell and Frederick the Great.

Necessity hath no law. Feigned necessities, imagined necessities... are the greatest cozenage that men can put upon the Providence of God, and make pretenses to break known rules by.

Sir, what can be said of these things? Is it the arm of the flesh that hath done these things? Is it the wisdom and counsel, or strength of man? It is the Lord only. God will curse that man and his house that dares to think otherwise. Sir, you see the work is done by a Divine leading. God gets into the hearts of men, and persuades them to come under you.

I do not believe that this is an evil king. But he is confused. And he cannot say no to his wife. Therefore if it please God I shall raise an army of men who are not confused. Stern men who say no to the tyranny of kings and wives. Men who make no confusion over the ordained place of man and woman, king and subject. And with these stern, God-fearing men, I shall ride. And we shall be called Ironsides because we are like iron, being hard both day and night. And the king shall find us unyielding, like a rod of iron, and shall give us satisfaction. Like our wives!

It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money. Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter'd your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth? Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil'd this sacred place, and turn'd the Lord's temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress'd, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors. In the name of God, go! -Oliver Cromwell on the Dissolution of Parliament (April 20, 1653)

A man never goes so far as when he does not know wither he is going.

No one rises so high as he who knows not whither he is going.

Without Oliver Cromwell there might well have not been a Parliament to which Our Sovereign Lady might make her gracious address.

The most spectacular-and embittering-of the British suppressions of the Irish was Oliver Cromwell's punitive expedition of 1649,

If you ever say anything good about Oliver Cromwell they’ll all hit you.

Thamsine Granville had not begun the day with the intention of killing Oliver Cromwell.

Oliver Cromwell in 1653: “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing! Depart, I say, and let us have done with you! In the name of God, go!

Your pretended fear lest error should step in, is like the man who would keep all wine out of the country, lest men should be drunk. It will be found an unjust and unwise jealousy to deprive a man of his natural liberty upon a supposition he may abuse it. When he doth abuse it, judge.

Chamberlain, borrowing words used by Oliver Cromwell in 1653: “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing! Depart, I say, and let us have done with you! In the name of God, go!

I just threw out a book somebody gave me, it was some slob's version of what it was like to live in the time of Oliver Cromwell - only the slob didn't LIVE in the time of Oliver Cromwell so how the hell does he know what it was like? Anybody wants to know what it was like to live in the time of Oliver Cromwell can slop on the sofa with Milton on his pro side and Walton on his con, and they'll not only tell him what it was like, they'll take him there.

I’m not a man, I can’t earn a living, buy new things for my family. I have acne and a small peter. I’m not a man. I don’t like football, boxing and cars. I like to express my feeling. I even like to put an arm around my friend’s shoulder. I’m not a man. I won’t play the role assigned to me- the role created by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell, Television does not dictate my behavior. I’m not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me sick. I like flowers. I’m not a man. I went to prison resisting the draft. I do not fight when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike violence. I’m not a man. I have never raped a woman. I don’t hate blacks. I do not get emotional when the flag is waved. I do not think I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it. I’m not a man. I have never had the clap. I’m not a man. Playboy is not my favorite magazine. I’m not a man. I cry when I’m unhappy. I’m not a man. I do not feel superior to women I’m not a man. I don’t wear a jockstrap. I’m not a man. I write poetry. I’m not a man. I meditate on peace and love. I’m not a man. I don’t want to destroy you

We sit up at night to read about Cakya-Mouni, Saint Francis, or Oliver Cromwell; but whether we should be glad for any one at all like them to call on us the next morning, still more, to reveal himself as a new relation, is quite another affair.

Our manly ways and stern simplicity wreak much confusion to the enemy's councils. For they are men yet garb themselves as women, wearing wigs and finery and lace. And for this offense if it be God's will we will come upon them in the night, from the rear, and penetrate their degenerate bodies with our holy truth. For we are manly saints and possess the full swelling hardness of our faith, which gushes forevermore from Christ's unyielding root.

p. 274 ...his trademark decision to surrender power as commander in chief and then president, was not...a sign that he had conquered his ambitions, but rather that he fully realized that all ambitions were inherently insatiable and unconquerable. He knew himself well enough to resist the illusion that he transcended human nature. Unlike Julius Caesar and Oliver Cromwell before him, and Napoleon, Lenin, and Mao after him, he understood that the greater glory resided in posterity's judgment. If you aspire to live forever in the memory of future generations, you must demonstrate the ultimate self-confidence to leave the final judgment to them. And he did.

Cromwell believed that he would personally bring about the second coming of Christ.

I had rather have a plain russet-coated captain that knows what he fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a gentleman and is nothing else.

Thunderstorms oft spurred these sorts of suppositions. “Maybe God is bursting with tears and he’s flickering lights in His invisible bedroom

Cromwell was a man who believed in the will of God and the power of an idea.

One person can make a difference. A huge difference. Consider what a solitary individual may accomplish: In 1645 one vote gave Oliver Cromwell control of England. In 1649 one vote cost Charles I of England his life, causing him to be executed. In 1776 one vote gave America the English language instead of the German language. In 1839 one vote elected Mark Morgan governor of Massachusetts. In 1845 one vote brought Texas into the Union. In 1868 one vote saved President Johnson from impeachment. In 1875 one vote changed France from a monarchy to a republic. In 1876 one vote gave Rutherford B. Hayes the United States presidency. In 1923 one vote gave Adolf Hitler control of the Nazi party. In 1941 one vote saved the Selective Service Agency just

the most general sense,” the historian Allen C. Guelzo observed, “the paradox of Lincoln’s fatalism falls into a pattern that has reapppeared throughout modern Western history, and it arises from the peculiar tendency of determinists, from Oliver Cromwell to Karl Marx, to preach divine or material inevitability at one moment and then turn into the most avowed revolutionary activists at the next.

But there is another possible attitude towards the records of the past, and I have never been able to understand why it has not been more often adopted. To put it in its curtest form, my proposal is this: That we should not read historians, but history. Let us read the actual text of the times. Let us, for a year, or a month, or a fortnight, refuse to read anything about Oliver Cromwell except what was written while he was alive. There is plenty of material; from my own memory (which is all I have to rely on in the place where I write) I could mention offhand many long and famous efforts of English literature that cover the period. Clarendon’s History, Evelyn’s Diary, the Life of Colonel Hutchinson. Above all let us read all Cromwell’s own letters and speeches, as Carlyle published them. But before we read them let us carefully paste pieces of stamp-paper over every sentence written by Carlyle. Let us blot out in every memoir every critical note and every modern paragraph. For a time let us cease altogether to read the living men on their dead topics. Let us read only the dead men on their living topics.

Did you ever hear what happened to Oliver Cromwell’s head? It was originally lashed to the roof of Westminster Hall as a potent warning not to mess with the government of the day, but in 1685 a violent storm blew it off its perch and a captain of the guard had it away and hid it up his chimney, where it stayed until he admitted the crime on his death bed. So can you picture the scene? Cromwell died in 1658. 27 years later this geezer nicks his head and shoves it up his chimney. He’s about to croak it, the whole family’s gathered around his death bed, everybody’s in tears and they’re all wondering if he’ll come out with any famous last words. Perhaps, “Farewell, my children, forever. I go to your father,” or maybe, “Let us pass over the river and rest under the shade of the trees,” or even, “Don’t let it end like this, tell them I said something.” Not this fucking joker! No! What does he say? He says, “Here Jackie, the sausages tasted a bit off tonight. Did I ever tell you I nicked Oliver Cromwell’s head and shoved it up the chimney? It’s still there,” and he draws back the veil of his earthly life and succumbs to eternal peace. They all look at each other, “What did he fucking say?” “He said he nicked Oliver Cromwell’s head.” “What do you mean; he nicked Oliver Cromwell’s head?” “That’s what he said, don’t blame me!” “Fuck’s sake!” “Well, do you think we should look?” “Don’t talk bollocks! You honestly want to look up the chimney to see if Oliver Cromwell’s head’s up there?” “I’m just saying …..” Anyway, one of them had a look up the chimney, found the head and by 1710 it was appearing in a freak show under the banner, ‘The Monster’s Head.’ True story

had I been able to speak, it would have afforded me a chance to help him understand God’s ways and set him on a proper path. Instead, I rested upon the man’s cold, dry hand; his blasphemy had invited a thin layer of death to creep upon him. For it was clear that a part of his soul was already dead.

. . . to voice private sympathies in the context of an official proceeding would require Washington to become, in his own words, 'lost to my own character.' Here, in this reference to character, Washington hit upon the essential difference between himself and Arnold. Washington's sense of right and wrong existed outside the impulsive demands of his own self-interest. Rules mattered to Washington. Even though Congress had made his life miserable for the last four years, he had found ways to do what he considered best for his army and his country without challenging the supremacy of civil authority. To do otherwise, to declare himself, like the seventeenth-century English revolutionary Oliver Cromwell, master of his army and his country, would require him to become 'lost to my own character.' For Arnold, on the other hand, rules were made to be broken. He had done it as a pre-Revolutionary merchant and he had done it as military governor of Philadelphia. This did not make Arnold unusual. Many prominent Americans before and since have lived in the gray area between selfishness and altruism. What made Arnold unique was the god-like inviolability he attached to his actions. He had immense respect for a man like Washington, but Arnold was, in the end, the leading person-age in the drama that was his life. Not lost to his own character, but lost in it, Arnold did whatever Arnold wanted.

When he was twenty-three years old, he (George Fox) saw the inner light in a vision. For him it symbolized the spirit against the letter, silence against chatter, experience against dogma, and equality against all who build inequality on authority and power, be it of the state or religion. His mistrust of the official Anglican Church was immense. He spoke with disdain of the "towered houses" and was tormented by the ringing of church bells. He frequently interrupted preachers, standing in the church's doorway, a hat covering his head, and uttering threatening words toward the pulpit, causing great excitement in the gathered congregation. It often resulted in Fox being beaten up, banished, and, later on, jailed for years. What aroused his ire, above all, were the priests who, without ever having experienced or even looked for illumination, presented themselves as servants of God but, in truth, comprised a "society of cannibals." It is "not enough to have been educated in Oxford or Cambridge in order to become capable for and efficient in the service of Christ. To this day it is difficult for many Friends to speak of "Quaker theology." The Friends believe in Scripture - George Fox knew it by heart - but they also believe that the Spirit transcends Scripture and that the inner light is experienced by all human beings without human mediation. "The inner light," "the inward teacher" are names that the early Quakers gave to their experiences of the Spirit. They believe that everyone can meet the "Christ within," even though he has different names in different ages and places and is not tied to any form of religion. This light is open to everyone and, yet, it is not simply the natural light of reason. In a conversation that Fox had with Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, he vigorously resisted this rational interpretation. In every human being is "that of God," hidden, eclipsed, often forgotten. Linguistically a clumsy expression at best, "that of God in everyone" is the foundation of human dignity. In addition, it is the admonition to believe in it, to discover it in each and everyone and to respond to it. Fox said, "Walk joyfully on the earth and respond to that of God in every human being.

The historian Michael Walzer has argued that modern revolution was a task for the kind of ascetic, single-minded, self-denying personality that Calvinism sought to inculcate, and certainly some of the successful revolutionaries of the West would seem to fill the bill. As we have seen, the English revolutionary leader Oliver Cromwell, a Calvinist himself, railed perpetually against the festive inclinations of his troops. The Jacobin leader Robespierre despised disorderly gatherings, including “any group in which there is a tumult”—a hard thing to avoid during the French Revolution, one might think.73 His fellow revolutionary Louis de Saint-Just described the ideal “revolutionary man” in terms that would have been acceptable to any Puritan: “inflexible, but sensible; he is frugal; he is simple … honorable, he is sober, but not mawkish.”74 Lenin inveighed against “slovenliness … carelessness, untidiness, unpunctuality” as well as “dissoluteness in sexual life,”75 seeing himself as a “manager” and “controller” as well as a leader.76 For men like Robespierre and Lenin, the central revolutionary rite was the meeting—experienced in a sitting position, requiring no form of participation other than an occasional speech, and conducted according to strict rules of procedure. Dancing, singing, trances—these could only be distractions from the weighty business at hand.

That God in some sense foreordains whatever comes to pass is a necessary result of his sovereignty. In itself it does not plead for Calvinism. It only declares that God is absolutely sovereign over his creation. God can foreordain things in different ways. But everything that happens must at least happen by his permission. If he permits something, then he must decide to allow it. If he decides to allow something, then in a sense he is foreordaining it. Who, among Christians, would argue that God could not stop something in this world from happening? If God so desires, he has the power to stop the whole world. To say that God foreordains all that comes to pass is simply to say that God is sovereign over his entire creation. If something could come to pass apart from his sovereign permission, then that which came to pass would frustrate his sovereignty. If God refused to permit something to happen and it happened anyway, then whatever caused it to happen would have more authority and power than God himself. If there is any part of creation outside of God’s sovereignty, then God is simply not sovereign. If God is not sovereign, then God is not God. If there is one single molecule in this universe running around loose, totally free of God’s sovereignty, then we have no guarantee that a single promise of God will ever be fulfilled. Perhaps that one maverick molecule will lay waste all the grand and glorious plans that God has made and promised to us. If a grain of sand in the kidney of Oliver Cromwell changed the course of English history, so our maverick molecule could change the course of all redemption history. Maybe that one molecule will be the thing that prevents Christ from returning.

And don’t call me ‘my lord.’ That’s what servants do. You’re my fiancée, remember?” He sounded irritated. “I’ll call you Maria, and you should probably call me by my Christian name-Oliver.” An unusual name for an English lord. “Where you named after the playwright, Oliver Goldsmith?” “Alas, no. I was named after the Puritan, Oliver Cromwell.” “You’re joking.” “Afraid not. My father thought it amusing, considering his own…er…tendency toward debauchery.” Lord help her, the man’s very name was a jab at respectability. Meanwhile, his estate could probably hold the entire town of Dartmouth! A sudden panic seized her. How could she pretend to be the fiancée of a man who owned a house like that? “I was named after King Frederick,” Freddy put in. “Which one?” asked Lord Stoneville. Oliver. “There’s more than one?” Freddy asked. “There’s at least ten,” the marquess said dryly. Freddy knit his brow. “I’m not sure which one.” When humor glinted in Oliver’s eyes, Maria said, “I think Aunt Rose was aiming for a generally royal-sounding name.” “That’s it,” Freddy put in. “Just a King Frederick in general.” “I see,” Oliver said solemnly, though his lips had a decided twitch. His gaze flicked to her. “What about you? Which Maria are you named after?” “The Virgin Mary, of course,” Freddy said. “Of course,” Oliver said, eyes gleaming. “I should have known.” “We’re Catholic,” Freddy added. “My mother was Catholic,” Maria corrected him. “Papa wasn’t, but since Freddy’s mother is, too, we were both raised Catholic.” Not that she’d ever taken any of it very seriously. Papa had always railed against the foolishness of religion. A devious smile broke over Oliver’s face. “A Catholic, too? Oh, this just gets better and better. Gran will have an apoplectic fit when she meets you.” Tired of his insulting comments about her background, she said, “Really, sir-“ “We’re here,” he announced as the coach pulled to a halt.

Oliver Cromwell’s words in dismissal of the Long Parliament: ‘You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go.

Surely such phantoms could rap and knock upon the tables of German military personnel, scattering schemes as they plotted, and thenceforth frightening them into submission without further need for bloodshed.

And in the famous picture of the 1776 crossing of the Delaware on Christmas night, two men depicted at the front of the boat include Prince Whipple and Oliver Cromwell – two black patriots who served with George Washington and other American generals during the Revolution.

The more radical presbyterians (known as Covenanters, derisively nicknamed ‘whiggamores’ or ‘cattle drivers’ from where the term ‘Whig’ probably derives) had refused to support the reintroduction of Episcopalianism, while many Presbyterian families (such as the Forbeses of Culloden), during the seventeenth-century civil wars, had supported the Parliamentarians against Charles I, and then Oliver Cromwell’s Commonwealth: as a result all had suffered greatly at the hands of Charles II and then James VII after the restoration of the monarchy.

Castine predates the Plymouth Colony by 7 years and, being one of the oldest settlements in America, has a rich history. Founded during the winter of 1613 as Fort Pentagöet, named after the French Baron of Pentagöet, Castine is located in eastern Maine or “Down East,” as it is now popularly called. During much of the 17th and 18th centuries, the French Parish of Acadia included parts of eastern Quebec and the Maritime Provinces. The pine-forested land of French controlled Maine extended as far south as Fort Pentagöet and the Kennebec River. That same year, 1613, English Captain Samuel Argall raided Mount Desert Island, the largest island to be found in present-day Maine, thus starting a long-running dispute over the boundary between French Acadia and the English colonies lying to the south. In 1654, Major General Robert Sedgwick led 100 New England volunteers and 200 of Oliver Cromwell's soldiers on an expedition against French Acadia. Sedgwick captured and plundered Fort Pentagöet and occupied Acadia for the next 16 years. This relatively short period ended when the Dutch bombarded the French garrison defending Penobscot Bay and the Bagaduce River, thereby dominating Castine in 1674 and again in 1676. It was during this time that they completely destroyed Fort Pentagöet. After the Treaty of Breda brought peace to the region in 1667, French authorities dispatched Baron Jean-Vincent de Saint- Castin to take command of Fort Pentagöet. The community surrounding the fort served as the capital of this French colony from 1670 to 1674, and was named Castine after him.

Dear Heart, press on; let not Husband, let not anything cool thy affections after Christ. I hope he will be an occasion to inflame them. That which is best worthy of love in thy Husband is that of the image of Christ he bears. Look on that, and love it best, and all the rest for that. I pray for thee and him; do so for me.

His history will henceforth be known as I craft it. Is this not the manner in which all history is recorded? It is written, and it is so.

Oliver Cromwell came floating back to me. “I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, think it possible that you may be mistaken.

Manufactured scarcity empowers and justifies racism, so much so that the historical sociologist Oliver Cromwell Cox once speculated that without capitalism “the world might never have experienced race prejudice.

Coveting the Dutch near-monopoly on European trade, the English under both Oliver Cromwell

that of the Parliamentary Royalists,

What you had in the chronicle of the country then was a few centuries of a game of Rebellion-Betrayal, Rebellion-Betrayal, Uprising Put-Down, and Hope Dashed. The History of Ireland in two words: Ah well. The Invasion by the Vikings: Ah well. The Invasion by the Normans. The Flight of the Earls, Mr Oliver Cromwell. Daniel O’Connell, Robert Emmett, The Famine, Charles Stewart Parnell, Easter Rising, Michael Collins, Éamon De Valera, Éamon De Valera again (Dear Germany, so sorry to learn of the death of your Mr Hitler), Éamon De Valera again, the Troubles, the Tribunals, the Fianna Fáil Party, The Church, the Banks, the eight hundred years of rain: Ah well.

Santiago de Cuba In 1553, Santiago was first invaded and plundered by the French. They were followed by the British, led by Sir Christopher Myngs, a British officer in the Royal Navy, who served under the leadership of Oliver Cromwell, an infamous buccaneer. Cromwell promoted Myngs to the rank of Admiral and ordered him to the Caribbean in 1656, where he was responsible for looting Spanish settlements and conquering the island of Jamaica from the Spanish. During his career Myngs was also responsible for spawning the privateering career of Henry Morgan. The British considered Myngs an Admiral, but to the Spanish he was a pirate when he broke through the strong Spanish defenses of Santiago de Cuba to plunder and sack the city. Santiago had lost its status as the capital of Cuba when the seat of power was moved to Havana in 1589, but many people to this day, feel it is still the capital city when it comes to culture. Of course, anyone from La Habana would strongly disagree with this! Carnival is the predominant pageant in the city because it relates to the Afro-Cuban beliefs rather than Christianity. It also occurs in July instead of February. The large number of Afro-Cubans in Santiago were responsible for bringing in much of the African culture found in eastern Cuba. Many of these people practice Santería, a syncretic religion that had emerged from different West African beliefs and was brought to Cuba from Haiti.

Work hard, trust in God, and keep your bowels open — Oliver Cromwell Well,

The taste of New England ran not to black or gray, but to “sadd colors” as they were called in the seventeenth century. A list of these “sadd colors” in 1638 included “liver color, de Boys, tawney, russet, purple, French green, ginger lyne, deer colour, orange.” Other sad colors were called “gridolin” from the French gris de lin (“flax blossom”). Still others were called puce, folding color, Kendall green, Lincoln green, barry, milly and tuly. Specially favored was russet, and a color called philly mort from the French feuille morte (“dead leaf”). One country gentleman from the east of England, Oliver Cromwell, made these “sad colors” into a badge of virtue when he celebrated his “plain russet-coated captain that knows what he fights for and loves what he knows.

Oliver Cromwell banned kissing on Sundays---even for married couples---on pain of a prison sentence.

Oliver Cromwell is credited with having given the following speech when he dissolved Parliament on 20th April 1653: It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money. Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter’d your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth? Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil’d this sacred place, and turn’d the Lord’s temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress’d, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors. In the name of God, go!

The solution to the economic and political failure of nations today is to transform their extractive institutions toward inclusive ones. The vicious circle means that this is not easy. But it is not impossible, and the iron law of oligarchy is not inevitable. Either some preexisting inclusive elements in institutions, or the presence of broad coalitions leading the fight against the existing regime, or just the contingent nature of history, can break vicious circles. Just like the civil war in Sierra Leone, the Glorious Revolution in 1688 was a struggle for power. But it was a struggle of a very different nature than the civil war in Sierra Leone. Conceivably some in Parliament fighting to remove James II in the wake of the Glorious Revolution imagined themselves playing the role of the new absolutist, as Oliver Cromwell did after the English Civil War. But the fact that Parliament was already powerful and made up of a broad coalition consisting of different economic interests and different points of view made the iron law of oligarchy less likely to apply in 1688. And it was helped by the fact that luck was on the side of Parliament against James II. In the next chapter, we will see other examples of countries that have managed to break the mold and transform their institutions for the better, even after a long history of extractive institutions.

Oliver Cromwell, the brilliant and inspiring military leader who led the Parliamentary forces to victory in the English Civil War, is the man most responsible for the eventual establishment of parliamentary democracy as the English form of government.

... she had foreseen the New Model Army's occupation of London in the tense weeks before Charles I was tried. Two years after that she had experienced a further trance and this time saw an army on the battlefield, led by a figure of valour and courage, God indicating that 'Oliver Cromwell, then Lord General, was that Gideon'. Cromwell's defeat of the Scots at the battle of Dunbar soon afterwards offered Anna confirmation of the truth of her visions.

He warned his pious daughter Bridget of the dangers of self-criticism and the overwhelming importance of love.

Taken on his own terms he had an intense integrity rare among rulers; he seldom acted for personal profit and almost always did what he believed to be best for others.

There appeared before her eyes the figure of Oliver Cromwell, in the guise of the Old Testament military leader Gideon, going into the Commons Chamber and demanding the resignation of the Speaker and the end of the assembly: 'I saw suddenly a departure of them, though they were very loath thereunto.' When, four days later, news reached the Hillingdon vicarage that exactly these events had just occurred in London, Anna's friends were thunderstruck. She was not mad. God himself was speaking through her.

What a comfort it is to have an eternally full and self-existent God. It means he is for us an anchor of unchanging faithfulness (James 1:17), perfectly free to do just as he chooses (Ps. 115:3), and unassailable by any evil or wickedness that would try to stand in his way (Job 42:2). Beyond this alone, though, what a joy to have a God whose glory is to share himself rather than hide himself. He presents himself to be known, his fatherly goodness to be enjoyed, and his life to be received. And his aseity, simplicity, and immutability mean that these wonders never cease. John Howe, the Puritan preacher and chaplain to Oliver Cromwell, wrote that when delighting yourself in this God, “you will still find a continual spring, unexhausted fullness, a fountain never to be drawn dry.”8

Kapitalismus aufgerüttelte und von religiösem Zwist zutiefst irritierte englische Gesellschaft völlig aus den Fugen. Ein Jahr nach der Veröffentlichung von Nova Atlantis zieht ein gewisser Oliver Cromwell (1599 – 1658) ins Unterhaus ein. 1642 beginnt der Englische Bürgerkrieg. 1667 wird John Milton (1608 – 1674), ein ehemaliger Mitstreiter Cromwells, seine Erfahrungen mit den zerrissenen Jahrzehnten zu einer großen biblischen Dichtung verarbeiten: Das verlorene Paradies (Paradise Lost). Und auf dem Kontinent hat schon zu Bacons Lebzeiten jener lange unheilvolle Krieg begonnen, den man den Dreißigjährigen nennt. Mit ihm endet die Epoche der Renaissance …

and many other persons of figure and distinction were expected to come over, some of which are said to have been prevented by express order of the King, as Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, Sir Arthur Haslerigg, Oliver Cromwell, etc. I know this is questioned by some authors, but it appears plainly by a letter from Lord Say and Seal to Mr. Vane, and a letter[61] from Mr. Cotton to the same nobleman as I take it, though his name is not mentioned, and an answer[62] to certain demands made by him, that his Lordship himself, and Lord Brooke and others, were not without thoughts of removing to New England,

The first of the Walbys to come to Ireland had been Isaiah, who in 1649 won a measure of renown as a Cromwell officer. Captain Isaiah distinguished himself during the massacre at Drogheda in which several thousand Catholics, women and children no exception, were slaughtered in holy vengeance. The Drogheda murders were sanctified by Oliver Cromwell himself, who declared it “a righteous judgment of God upon barbarous wretches.” In the three hundred-odd years that followed, this opinion of the natives remained largely unchanged by succeeding generations of Walbys.

Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell in the seventeenth

You have read New England history, dear, but you’ve let the ugly parts slip into the back of your mind. Your forefathers hanged helpless old women as witches.” “Yes, Lanny, but they believed the devil was in them.” “The Communists believe the devil is in the capitalists, the great landlords and others who monopolize the means of life and use them to exploit the laboring masses. It is a different set of ideas, but the fundamental attitude, the type of mind, is the same. Your forefathers put men in stocks, they ducked women in ducking stools, they drove Roger Williams, a gentle mystic, out into the wilderness.” “Surely they never murdered people wholesale as the Communists have done!” “Are you sure? Just go to your public library and get a history of Ireland, and see what Oliver Cromwell did to the Irish people, the names he called them, and the wholesale ferocious slaughter. Ireland is a smaller country than Russia, but proportionately I doubt if the Communists have killed as many people in Russia as the Roundheads killed in the Emerald Isle. You and I are used to seeing social progress made by means of the ballot, but we have to bear in mind that some peoples haven’t reached that stage of development and cannot get any sort of change without violence, and a lot of it.

41 OLIVER CROMWELL 1599-1658

He must be a man of some force.' 'He's a religious fanatic.' Leo suddenly smiled. 'So were Martin Luther and Oliver Cromwell and John the Baptist, Viscountess. Give me a good religious fanatic every time! They always mean business, and they'll do what they set out to do or die trying.

Your father reminded me of Lord Oliver Cromwell some fifty years ago in London. Lord Cromwell spoke of liberty. He fought the king to free England of tyranny. But after Lord Cromwell’s Ironsides had defeated the monarch, he turned ruthless. It was as if the monarchy had never been destroyed. Indeed, nothing had changed

Looking for fears, indeed, may be a more fruitful research strategy than a literal-minded quest for thinkers who “created” fascism. One such fear was the collapse of community under the corrosive influences of free individualism. Rousseau had already worried about this before the French Revolution. In the mid-nineteenth century and after, the fear of social disintegration was mostly a conservative concern. After the turbulent 1840s in England, the Victorian polemicist Thomas Carlyle worried about what force would discipline “the masses, full of beer and nonsense,” as more and more of them received the right to vote. Carlyle’s remedy was a militarized welfare dictatorship, administered not by the existing ruling class but by a new elite composed of selfless captains of industry and other natural heroes of the order of Oliver Cromwell and Frederick the Great. The Nazis later claimed Carlyle as a forerunner. Fear of the collapse of community solidarity intensified in Europe toward the end of the nineteenth century, under the impact of urban sprawl, industrial conflict, and immigration. Diagnosing the ills of community was a central project in the creation of the new discipline of sociology. Émile Durkheim (1858–1917), the first French holder of a chair in sociology, diagnosed modern society as afflicted with “anomie”—the purposeless drift of people without social ties—and reflected on the replacement of “organic” solidarity, the ties formed within natural communities of villages, families, and churches, with “mechanical” solidarity, the ties formed by modern propaganda and media such as fascists (and advertisers) would later perfect. The German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies regretted the supplanting of traditional, natural societies (Gemeinschaften) by more differentiated and impersonal modern societies (Gesellschaften) in Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft (1887), and the Nazis borrowed his term for the “people’s community” (Volksgemeinschaft) they wanted to form. The early twentieth-century sociologists Vilfredo Pareto, Gaetano Mosca, and Roberto Michels contributed more directly to fascist ideas.

the bizarre reign of Oliver Cromwell, far more of a tyrant than King Charles ever was. The few non-Puritan members of Parliament were evicted, and the remaining few dozen supported Cromwell, who insisted that he held his “calling” from God. England was divided into military districts, and Puritan standards were enforced: Christmas was abolished, theaters closed, and other elements of English life frowned on by the “Saints” were eliminated.

BELIEVE IN RETURNING dead bodies. It seems like a simple courtesy, doesn’t it? A warrior dies, you should do what you can to get their body back to their people for funerary rites. Maybe I’m old-fashioned. (I am over four thousand years old.) But I find it rude not to properly dispose of corpses. Achilles during the Trojan War, for instance. Total pig. He chariot-dragged the body of the Trojan champion Hector around the walls of the city for days. Finally I convinced Zeus to pressure the big bully into returning Hector’s body to his parents so he could have a decent burial. I mean, come on. Have a little respect for the people you slaughter. Then there was Oliver Cromwell’s corpse. I wasn’t a fan of the man, but please. First, the English bury him with honors. Then they decide they hate him, so they dig him up and “execute” his body. Then his head falls off the pike where it’s been impaled for decades and gets passed around from collector to collector for almost three centuries like a disgusting souvenir snow globe. Finally, in 1960, I whispered in the ears of some influential people, Enough, already. I am the god Apollo, and I order you to bury that thing. You’re grossing me out. When it came to Jason Grace, my fallen friend and half brother, I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. I would personally escort his coffin to Camp Jupiter and see him off with full honors.

Within the long arc of the American History, Washington's speech is significant because it prevented the American Revolution from descending the path taken by previous and future revolutionary movements, from republican ideals to military dictatorships. Which is to say that Washington did not do what Julius Caesar and Oliver Cromwell had done before him and Napoleon would do after him. In the crucible of that moment, however the more immediate significance was that the army ceased to be a pawn in a plot to expand the powers of the Congress.

Oliver Cromwell chose not to bring his marauders over here because one of his generals had reported that the country west of the Shannon contained “not enough water to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury him.

Not until four centuries had elapsed was Oliver Cromwell by furtive contracts with a moneyed Israelite to open again the coasts of England to the enterprise of the Jewish race. It was left to a Calvinist dictator to remove the ban which a Catholic king had imposed.

here it was in black and white from the First Lord of the Admiralty... again! King George V had already asked his Private Secretary to write to Winston Churchill and make it abundantly clear, when the Iron Duke Class was being built, that under no circumstances would a battleship be christened His Majesty’s Ship Oliver Cromwell. Now, in October 1912,

No one rises so high as he who knows not whither he is going

I beseech you…think it possible that you may be mistaken.

YOUNG NED OF THE HILL" "Have you ever walked the lonesome hills and heard the curlews cry? Or seen the raven black as night upon a windswept sky? To walk the purple heather and hear the westwind cry To know that's where the rapparee must die. Since Cromwell pushed us westward to live our lowly lives There's some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary mountains high Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high. A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell , you who raped our Motherland I hope you're rotting down in hell for the horrors that you sent To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright "To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight. Of one such man I'd like to speak a rapparee by name and deed His family dispossessed and slaughtered they put a price upon his head His name is known in song and story his deeds are legends still And murdered for blood money was young Ned of the hill. A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell, you who raped our Motherland I hope you're rotting down in hell for the horrors that you sent To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright "To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight. You have robbed our homes and fortunes, even drove us from our land You tried to break our spirit but you'll never understand The love of dear old Ireland that will forge an iron will As long as there are gallant men like young Ned of the hill.