The common perception of Oliver Cromwell—austere, devout, principled, and nobly self-sacrificing—has never fully reflected the reality. Historians have long known this, and they have hotly debated the question of who the “real” Cromwell was—the actual mixture of virtues and vices that made the man. Opinions have varied dramatically: was he the psalm-singing hypocrite of Leveller and royalist screeds or the principled champion of parliamentarianism beloved by the Victorians? There has been no shortage of serious scholarship about Cromwell—distinguished modern historians ranging from Wilbur Abbott to John Morrill (as well as the contributors to this volume) have gone over this ground. Some might argue that there could be little more to say about Cromwell—but Patrick Little and his colleagues demonstrate here that, in fact, the Lord Protector's life remains a subject well worth examination. The goal of this collection of essays, writes its editor, is to present new perspectives on Oliver Cromwell and to move away from Thomas Carlyle and W. C. Abbott's massive collections of the Protector's letters and speeches as their evidentiary focus. The authors examine aspects of Cromwell's life in detail: his early business dealings, his work as a neophyte MP, and his opening forays as a military leader are all the subject of chapters in the book. The authors of these studies successfully illuminate features of Cromwell's character and his actions, and in the process they have added significantly to our appreciation of the man. Other essays in the volume shed interesting light on familiar subjects: Cromwell's relations with the Levellers, the Scots, and the Irish; his court; and his famous rejection of the crown in 1657. Finally, the volume concludes with a new examination of the Protector's much-maligned son and successor, Richard.

The picture emerging from these essays is a fascinating one: Cromwell was perhaps more complicated—and in some ways more flawed—than we might have thought. Simon Healy's examination of Cromwell's relations with his Steward family relations in the 1630s suggest that he was not above sharp practice—in this case, an attempt to seize his uncle's estate through a bogus accusation of lunacy. Little notes in his introduction that Cromwell had more interest in money than some had thought; Healy's work supports this, as does Little's chapter investigating the general's Irish land investments before 1649. Little argues that following the victory at Naseby Cromwell's finances were shaky at best and that he looked—at least temporarily—to Ireland to restore his fortunes. Similarly, Lloyd Bowen shows that despite his family's Welsh roots, Cromwell's interest in the principality really only begins in 1648, following his acquisition of estates there once belonging to the Royalist earl of Worcester. Jason Peacy's article on Richard Cromwell's upbringing shows Oliver's care in negotiating his son's marriage settlement—behaving no differently than any other gentry patriarch haggling over dowries and jointures. These essays all shed light on Cromwell the private man, and they enrich our understanding of his character.

Other chapters in the book focus on Cromwell the public man. These articles challenge a number of long-established interpretations. Stephen Roberts, for example, shows that Cromwell was not the obscure backbencher in the early days of the Long Parliament portrayed by historians. He was active and well connected, working to advance the anti-episcopal agenda of some of the more radical members. S. L. Sadler's study of Cromwell's role in the defense of the fens in 1643–44 revises the stereotypical view of him as the simple, bluff, and inspiring soldier. In Sadler's telling, Cromwell becomes something of the very model of a modern major general—keenly aware of his public image and anxious to burnish it. He provided glowing accounts of his own successes to correspondents and newswriters and was not above claiming credit for the successes of others. Kirsteen MacKenzie illustrates the same point in her account of Cromwell's fraught relations with the Covenanters. When he defeated a party of Royalists at Gainsborough in July 1643, his report neglected to mention the vital assistance rendered by a Covenanter unit. In 1650, on the eve of his invasion of Scotland, one Scot accused him of “sending up bragging news for a diurnal in London” (157).

Andrew Barclay's essay on the Protector's court further supports this image of a man well aware of the importance of image. Barclay argues that the court was more regal than sometimes depicted. While never as ostentatious as the Stuarts, Cromwell was never the seventeenth-century equivalent of a Scandinavian bicycle king. Cromwell's court was the theater of his ambitions, and as such he intended it to project an appropriately grand image.

These fine essays—all of which are thoroughly researched and convincingly argued—share a common theme: Oliver Cromwell's ambitions. In the 1630s, Mr. Cromwell, the plain gentleman, laid ambitious plans for a career as a power in the provinces. When those plans went awry, he launched a bid to take over his uncle's property. When at the opening session of the Long Parliament, he pursued an ambition to make himself an influential member of the Commons, with some success. Following the outbreak of civil war he transferred those ambitions to the battlefield, carefully creating an image of success. Ultimately that image—and the undeniable talent he possessed as a general—brought him within reach of what Patrick Little argues was his final ambition: the crown. Little argues persuasively that Parliament's offer of the crown to the Protector in February 1657 was, in fact, welcome, if not in fact actually engineered by him. The final question remains—why, then, did Cromwell change his mind? Little thinks that Cromwell reversed himself for fear of angering a vengeful God—a plausible explanation, though ultimately the real answer may never be known. There is much else to praise about this collection, but, most importantly, it should be read in order to see Oliver Cromwell for what he, in fact, was, warts and all.