The analogy seems to operate on two levels. Cromwell has been physically separated from Fairfax, as by association has the army, but neither party need be disquieted, for there is to this estrangement a divine purpose. Superficially this is an equitable stance towards the two men – God has as clear a plan for Fairfax in his retirement as he does for his successor, Cromwell, in his new role. Yet even here the conceit of privileging the new man over the old is preserved: the sermon makes it clear that Cromwell is portrayed in the senior role of Abraham, the Hebrew patriarch, with Fairfax figured in the more minor role of his nephew Lot. It is not merely a matter of semantics to suggest that, while Walker for the most part recounts that Abraham and Lot suffered a parity of dislocation, separated from each other, he nevertheless provides a potentially significant twist when adding that ‘Lot was separated from Abraham’. The implication is that it is Lot/Fairfax who has departed from the mainstream and chosen to follow his own path, not Abraham/Cromwell. Like Walker, in ‘A Second Defence’ (1654) Milton uses his official role as government propagandist to make all the right diplomatic noises about Fairfax’s retirement, at least initially. Comparing his withdrawal with that evergreen Renaissance exemplar of disinterested stoicism, Scipio Africanus, Milton declares that his subject has exhibited ‘the greatest modesty, the most exemplary sanctity of life, [and] the highest courage’ to conquer not merely the enemy, but ambition and glory. The former Commander-in-Chief is deservedly ‘enjoying, in the most delightful and glorious of retirements, [his] virtues and illustrious deeds, which is the end of all labours’ The Lord General’s retreat, then, is a noble withdrawal which – outwardly – has the full sanction of the government he steadfastly served. Yet, despite this apparent vindication of Fairfax’s position, the next passage appears to betray Milton’s struggle to come to terms with what has happened. In now transforming his narrative into praise of Cromwell, he barely manages to toe the official party line over the
religious belief, or to contemplation and composition. In these terms, the writings of Marvell and Fairfax frame between them both a shared privacy and a shared lyric imagination. Those associations, the author argues, significantly support broader literary-critical interest in Fairfax’s poetry, and, more generally, in early-modern metrical psalmody. Part 2, and the volume as a whole, is brought to a conclusion with a chapter by Richard Nash, which in great detail traces the lineages of famous racehorses from the seventeenth century onwards, interleaved with close scrutiny of Fairfax’s little-known treatise on horse breeding, the original of which is held at York Minster Library. Nash shows how, through a Restoration racehorse named ‘Spanker’, the lineage of today’s racing thoroughbreds can be traced back to Fairfax’s stud at Nun Appleton. The original essays in this interdisciplinary volume provide more of the sustained modern critical attention that Fairfax’s life and work merit. They reflect key aspects of his life and career which are, nevertheless, as interconnecting as they are discrete. Their fresh accounts of Fairfax’s reputation and legacy question assumptions about neatly demarcated seventeenth-century chronological, geographic and cultural boundaries. Emerging from them is a man who confounds as often as he reinforces assumed characteristics of martial invincibility, political disengagement and literary dilettantism. Deriving from a conference marking the 400th anniversary of his birth, it is hoped that this collection of essays will highlight new directions of scholarly enquiry into Fairfax’s multiple roles as soldier, statesman, governor, husband, horseman and scholar.