Explanatory Notes of a Pack of Cavalier Playing Cards, Temp. Charles II.: Forming a Complete Political Satire of the Commonwealth

In Short

Edmund Goldsmid’s volume presents a precise facsimile and historical key to a rare, fifty-two-card propaganda deck printed around 1660. Designed by Royalist sympathizers to celebrate the fall of the Commonwealth, the cards turn parliamentary leaders, regicides, and Puritans into grotesque caricatures. Goldsmid systematically walks through each suit, reproducing the original captions—from cobblers made army commanders to corrupt committees—and pairs them with period commentary drawn from Royalist histories like Lord Clarendon’s. The book endures as a vivid artifact of historical revenge, capturing how visual media and pop culture were weaponized in the wake of the English Civil War.

The Story

The book opens with a pragmatic administrative backstory: Goldsmid, acting for Edinburgh’s historical societies, manages to reproduce a rare, complete pack of political playing cards owned by Lord Nelson. Re-engraved line-for-line on copper plates, the deck provides a visual roll call of the figures who governed England between the execution of Charles I and the Restoration of Charles II.

From the introductory details of production, the text moves directly into a suit-by-suit inventory of the deck's polemical campaign. The satire begins with direct attacks on the leaders of the new republic. The Ace of Hearts sets the tone, depicting Oliver Cromwell, Henry Ireton, and John Hewson sharing a boat as they sail away from the sun of loyalty into the darkness of treason. The deck systematically targets the legitimacy of the revolutionary regime, labeling the High Court of Justice as "Oliver's Slaughter-House" and mocking John Bradshaw’s impudent presidency over the trial of the King.

As the suits progress through the number cards, the narrative exposes the deep divisions within the anti-Royalist coalition. It contrasts the rigid, minister-led Presbyterian Covenanters of Scotland with the pragmatic, force-driven English Independents under Cromwell. The cards lampoon the social transformations of the era, sneering at low-born men who rose to high military rank, such as Hewson the cobbler, Pride the drayman, Skippon the former wagoner, and Kelsey the bodice-maker. High-ranking nobles who allied with Parliament, such as the Earl of Pembroke, are portrayed as simpletons seeking favor from the House of Commons.

The satirical arc reaches its climax in the face cards and court scenes, where political corruption turns into personal depravity. Parliamentary committees at Haberdashers Hall and Derby House are framed as organized extortion outfits designed to strip Royalists of their property. Preachers like Hugh Peters are shown gathering thimbles and bodkins from citizens' wives to fund the parliamentary war effort while delivering incendiary sermons. Prominent figures like Sir Henry Vane and Sir John Danvers are cast as opportunists who sacrificed their honor for power.

The book concludes by documenting the chaotic collapse of the Commonwealth. It shows Speaker Lenthall fleeing with his mace to join the army, Lambert conspiring under the symbol of a yellow tulip, and the desperate Rump Parliament attempting to forge alliances to stay in power. By the final suit, the deck celebrates the total moral and political ruin of the Parliamentarians, leaving them condemned by historical record and Royalist spite.

How It Unfolds

The copperplate endeavor Goldsmid details the financial and technical effort required to duplicate Lord Nelson's rare pack of cards line-for-line, filling in two missing cards from outside collections to complete the set.

The regicides take the helm The Ace cards establish the central villainy of the Commonwealth, depicting Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw launching a lawless government that executed the King under a sham court.

The rise of the low-born The mid-number cards mock the changing social order, targeting parliamentary military officers who rose from humble trades like cobbling, dray-driving, and making bodices.

Factional feuds and religious zeal Cards across multiple suits caricature the religious hypocrisy of Puritan chaplains and expose the political rift between Scottish Covenanters and Cromwell's English Independents.

The plunder of the Cavaliers The suite of ten-cards depicts parliamentary committees seizing private estates, fining Royalist prisoners, and expropriating wealth under the guise of public necessity.

The fall of the Rump The final sequence documents the internal collapse of the Parliament, showing isolated faction leaders, fleeing speakers, and broken military alliances just before the monarchy is restored.

The People

• Oliver Cromwell: The central target of the deck's fury. Depicted as a hypocritical military dictator who prays publicly to distract from regicide, elevates low-born allies, and secures absolute power under velvet robes and golden scepters.
• John Bradshaw: The lawyer named President of the High Court of Justice. He is framed as an arrogant, impudent figure who denied the King the right to speak before sentence was passed, ending his life in public infamy.
• Sir Henry Vane (the Younger): A cunning politician who engineered the Solemn League and Covenant. He is portrayed as an ambitious strategist driven by malice, navigating complex distinctions between legal and evangelical consciences.
• Hugh Peters: A flamboyant Puritan chaplain and street preacher. He is shown gathering domestic trinkets from Wapping wives to finance the Parliamentarians while railing against the monarchy from the pulpit.
• Richard Salwey and Sir Richard Onslow: Representative parliamentary politicians who maneuver through changing governments, shifting their allegiances between Oliver Cromwell, his son Richard, and the restored monarchy to save their wealth.

In Its Own Voice

"In 1650, Cromwell was named Commander-in-Chief in Ireland; Ireton, his son-in-law, his deputy; and Hewson or Huson ... governor of Dublin. In the plate they are sailing away from the sun of loyalty towards the night of treason."

Goldsmid introduces the Ace of Hearts, setting the deck's visual allegory of betrayal.

"A new form they did erect never before heard of. They constituted and erected a Court that should be called the High Court of Justice."

Quoting Lord Clarendon, Goldsmid contextualizes the Ace of Diamonds and the trial of King Charles I.

"Hugh Peters was born at Fowey, publicly whipped and expelled from the University of Cambridge ... He was a most burlesque preacher, and actually performed the act stated on the card."

The note explaining the Knave of Hearts details the eccentricities of Parliament's most famous chaplain.

What It's Really About

The text explores how popular print culture was weaponized to rewrite history after a revolution. Rather than offering an objective historical record, the playing cards function as a psychological catharsis for defeated Royalists returning to power in 1660. The deck reduces complex constitutional arguments to moral depravity, personal greed, and social inversion. It insists that the Commonwealth was not driven by religious liberty or parliamentary right, but by hypocritical commoners seeking wealth and power at the expense of traditional hierarchy. Goldsmid's commentary highlights how visual satire distilled years of bloody civil war into digestible, repeatable propaganda that could be shuffled, dealt, and mocked at a tavern table.

Why Read It Today

This work will appeal to readers of British history, material culture, and the origins of political media. It offers a rare, direct look at 17th-century propaganda, showing how visual art and everyday objects were used to shape public memory. Reading it feels like looking through an antique dealer's scrapbook: brief, dense bursts of period gossip, historical excerpts, and harsh partisan humor.

The book does present specific reading challenges. It assumes a basic familiarity with the figures of the English Civil War, and the text relies heavily on lengthy, archaic quotes from 17th- and 18th-century sources like Lord Clarendon's History of the Rebellion. Additionally, several card explanations remain unresolved riddles even to the editor, leaving occasional gaps in the commentary. What stays with you, however, is the sheer bitterness of the political rhetoric—a reminder that short-form media and partisan character assassination are by no means modern inventions.