To the Government's distrust Monk replied with contempt. His despatches at this time are curt and peremptory. He obviously detested the new state of things, and acquiesced in it only because it staved off the evil day he dreaded when he would be dragged, sword in hand, into the miserable political struggle which he had hitherto so successfully avoided. He sullenly did his duty, and that was all. He informed the Government of Royalist movements as regularly as ever, and engaged as activelyin keeping the country quiet. Still, as though he foresaw the need his country was soon to have for Scotland's goodwill, he began to relax his hold, and with complete success. "The last two years of his government," it was said by a Scotchman, "were so mild and moderate, except with respect to the clergy, whose petulant and licentious tongues he curbed upon all occasions, that the nation would not have willingly changed it for any other but that of their natural prince." Yet his rule was so complete that in Scotland the great Royalist plot that was now in full maturity could not even show its head.
Monk was now on the eve of the remarkable adventure which was to lift him from the position of an able officer to the dignity of a great historical figure. Fifty was then considered a ripe old age, and while most men of his years were looking round for a resting-place, he was about to begin his political career.
It was none of his own seeking. Thrifty and business-like to a fault, he had amassed a considerable fortune, and he began to turn his eyes longingly to his property in Ireland. At Ballymurn, between Wexford and Enniscorthy, he had an estate which had been granted to him in satisfaction of arrears of pay. It was in the midst of the most fertile and prosperous part of the island, and within easy reach of his old home. Ever since the beginning of 1657, with the colonial instinct still strong within him, he had been writing to Henry Cromwell, the Lord-Deputy of Ireland, that his only ambition now was to settle down as an Irish planter. All that kept him at his post, he told him, was his desire to see "your father and my dear friend better settled in his affairs." With Oliver's death and Richard's fall that motive was gone. Since Lambert had reappeared upon the scene his relationswith head-quarters had not been pleasant. Each day they grew more strained, and he longed for retirement more ardently than ever.
Apart from politics his life at Dalkeith was pleasant enough. In the short intervals of relaxation from business he devoted himself to planting, gardening, and hunting, of which he was passionately fond. He was a man of strong domestic affections, and they grew with advancing years. On the whole his family life was happy. His wife was possessed of many good qualities. She was devoted to him, and in spite of her sharp tongue he was very fond of her. The loss of his baby son George was a great and lasting grief, but Christopher, his first-born, was left. Daughters he had none, but Mary Monk, the eldest girl of his favourite brother, had come to stay with him, and even now he was in correspondence with her father about her marriage and the dowry he was going to provide.
But however attractive grew the prospect of a quiet life in Ireland far away from the din of politics, retirement was now out of the question. On July 5th, 1659, he found it his duty to write the following warning to the Council of State: "I make bold to acquaint you that I hear that Charles Stuart hath laid a great design both in England and Ireland, but as yet I hear nothing that he hath written over to this country concerning that business. I am confident that if he had I should have heard of it."
By a strange irony almost as he penned the words his cousin, Sir John Grenville, was in consultation with Lord Mordaunt as to the best method of making the general a party to their design. It was the widespreadconspiracy for a simultaneous rising of the King's friends in every county of which the vigilant governor had heard. Fortified with a new commission from the King, Mordaunt and his beautiful and courageous young wife had succeeded in hatching a really fine plot in concert with the more energetic members of the Sealed Knot. King and Cavaliers were to be kept in the background, and those constitutional Royalists, who as far as possible had never been in arms for the Crown, were to rise for a free Parliament and "the known laws of the land."
Mordaunt, in spite of his youth and the ardent enthusiasm which had goaded the inert Knot into taking up the movement, had a clear head. In his heart he knew that much more was to be done by gaining the leaders of the Opposition than by the best planned risings, and for him Monk's adhesion, or at least his neutrality, was of the first importance. By the whole of the King's councillors, however, the general, to his honour, was looked upon as unapproachable. It was in this difficulty that his sanguine young cousin saw the opportunity for which he had been so long preparing, and declared himself ready to undertake the task. At his request he was armed with an effusive letter from Charles to Monk, and a commission leaving him free to treat, with the sole limit that no more than a hundred thousand pounds a year was to be promised to the general and his officers. Grenville lost not a moment, and a few days later poor book-loving Nicholas was startled in his quiet Cornish rectory by a peremptory summons to London.
Monk's warning was not the only one which reached the Council. Sir Richard Willis, the most trustedmember of the Knot and an old friend of Monk's, was revealing everything but the names of the Cavaliers engaged. The only anxiety of the Government was to conceal its information from the conspirators. At every point it was ready. Lambert and Fleetwood were old hands at the work. Their idea apparently was to allow the rising to take place, tempt the King to land, and then inflict a blow which would at once crush their adversaries and give themselves an unassailable prestige. Amongst other precautions Monk was ordered to send two regiments of horse and two of foot into England, and it is significant that he obeyed without demur.
At the last moment an officious postmaster spoilt all. In a fit of zeal he intercepted an important letter. The Royalists got to hear of it, lost their heads, and the rising was nipped in the bud, or abandoned everywhere but in Cheshire and Lancashire. There Sir George Booth successfully established himself, and Lambert marched against him.
Amidst the din and bustle of military preparation Nicholas Monk arrived in London, and with no little alarm heard from Grenville's lips what was required of him. Ostensibly for the purpose of settling his daughter's marriage, and bringing her back to Cornwall, he was to carry the King's letters to his brother and negotiate the secret treaty. Nicholas flatly refused to touch the letters. They were far too dangerous. He consented, however, to carry a verbal message, and was solemnly sworn not to breathe a word of the very delicate affair to any one but his brother.
The only difficulty was how to reach Dalkeith. Lambert's troops blocked every road, and it was foundnecessary to take Clarges into their confidence. The only objection was that the cunning commissary, who knew everything, would certainly not believe Nicholas was going on his daughter's account. He had to be told that the parson's real mission was from the constitutional gentry of Devon and Cornwall. Some such mission he really had. Clarges refused to engage in the affair, but consented to provide Nicholas with a passage on a Government ship to Leith, and cautioned him against letting any one know his business except Dr. Barrow, the general's physician, and Dr. Price, his private chaplain.
Meanwhile Monk was being approached from another quarter. Lord Fairfax, it is said, had undertaken as part of the general movement to raise the gentlemen of the north, but he was far too good a soldier not to see the futility of the attempt if Monk chose to oppose it. He would not stir till he had come to an understanding with the Scots' governor, and to this end Colonel Atkins, on pretence of visiting relations in Fife, was ordered to go to Dalkeith. Atkins had commanded a company under Monk in Lord Leicester's regiment in 1641. They were old brothers-in-arms, and Monk received him so kindly that the colonel ventured to disclose the intention of the gentlemen of the north, and ask the general what he would do if they began to make their levies. He had his answer in a moment. "If they do appear," said Monk sharply, "I will send a force to suppress them. By the duty of my place I can do no less."
Such was his reply, but "the duty of my place" was for him no longer the magic solvent of all ethical difficultiesthat it had been. During his long proconsulship "honest George" had developed from the soldier into the statesman. True he clung still to his cherished first-born as ardently as ever. "I am not one of those," he had just written to the Speaker, "that seek great things, having had my education in a commonwealth where soldiers received and observed commands but gave none.... Obedience is my great principle, and I have always and ever shall reverence the Parliament's resolution in civil things as infallible and sacred." That the military power must be subject to the civil was still his creed, but it was no longer the whole of it. He began to see that for the rule to hold good the civil power must be that which was authorised by the Constitution; that it must be the power to which the Government was entrusted by the country. Since the deposition of the King and the abdication of the Protector the constitutional civil power was the Parliament, and the junto of politicians who were sitting at Westminster was not the Parliament. It was a truth he would perhaps have been slower to grasp had they treated him better in the matter of commissions; but they had stupidly forced the situation home to the hard-witted soldier, and having once embraced the idea he was not likely to abandon it. Nor was this all. The man of the hour was Lambert, his old rival, and the very apostle of the doctrines he abhorred. For Lambert the army was a political body which had won the people their liberties, and which alone was capable of administering them. His idea of the army was that it should be an executive corporation as self-contained and independent as other men at other times have sought to make the Church. For this Cromwell had discarded him. For this he hadcome upon the scene once more, and the civil power was in league with him.
Such was the light in which Monk viewed the situation when on August 8th his brother arrived at Dalkeith. The general was as usual up to his eyes in business. His ante-room was thronged with officers waiting for orders, and he had to commit Nicholas to the care of Dr. Price. The two parsons soon fraternised. Nicholas was bursting with his secret. The simple country rector grew more and more nervous as the time went on. The nearer the task of broaching the subject to his formidable brother was approached the less he liked it. At last he could contain himself no longer. Regardless of his oath and Grenville's cautions, he blurted out his whole secret and begged Price's assistance. The astute chaplain was aghast at the negotiator's indiscretion, for not only had he disclosed the western gentlemen's mission as Clarges had authorised him, but he had let out Sir John Grenville's too. Fortunately Price was a Royalist, and no harm was done. But he warned his simple visitor of the atmosphere in which the general was existing. It was a miasma of distrust and suspicion which none but "honest George" could have breathed and lived. Every eye was watching for a sign. The slightest indiscretion might be fatal, and absolute secrecy was a necessity. At the same time he gave him every encouragement. Mrs. Monk, he said, was constantly urging her husband to make a move, and he permitted her to talk the rankest treason every night. In her he would certainly find an active ally, and he himself would do his best. Finally he told him the best way to approach the general. The soldier was not without his superstitions, and Nicholaswas advised to pave the way for his disclosures with some old wives' prophecies about the future greatness of the family which he had brought out of Devonshire.
Thus prepared he was conducted to his brother. A few officers were still waiting in the ante-room. One of them at once suspiciously asked Price what was the meaning of Nicholas's visit. Price put him off with the story of Mary Monk, but nevertheless Nicholas was more alarmed than ever, and began to see that conspiring was not the simple affair of tokens and cyphers which he had thought.
No one was present at the interview between the brothers that evening, and no one knows exactly what occurred, but it is certain that its effect was to give George a much more serious view of the Great Design than he had before. His contempt for Cavalier conspiracies was profound, and Grenville's message had probably very little effect upon him. He did not know his young cousin personally, and looked upon him merely as one more of those enthusiastic young gentlemen whose sportive delight in hairbrained plots and whose passion for mystery were always leading them into scrapes and indefinitely postponing the Restoration. But Nicholas brought out of Devonshire a message from a very different man. Their kinsman, William Morice, had associated himself with Stukeley and the other western gentlemen, and Morice's administration of Monk's Devonshire estates seems to have given the general a profound faith in that gentleman's practical sagacity. Morice's approval at least assured him that the Presbyterians were engaged, and that Sir George Booth's rising was not a mere Cavalier plot. He was already considerably impressedby Lord Fairfax's adhesion, and now he began to see that whether or not the movement would end in the Restoration, the country was in earnest about having a real Parliament elected to settle some permanent form of government.
Nicholas gave Price such a favourable account of his interview that he looked upon the general as practically engaged. Still Monk gave no sign. Morice's advice involved, to say the least, putting pressure on the men whose commissions he held and whose pay he was taking. It was a serious obstacle, but everything continued to deepen the impression which Atkins and Nicholas had begun. Every post brought news that Booth's position was improving, and no doubt Mrs. Monk did her best when the curtains were drawn. Next week Colonel Atkins returned. Again he was well received, and Monk seems to have taken the opportunity of arranging a regular system of correspondence with Lord Fairfax, but nothing further appeared.
On Saturday the 23rd Dr. Gumble, chaplain to the Scotch commission, came over to Dalkeith, as he often did, to spend Sunday with the general and preach a sermon for Price. He was a staunch old Commonwealth man, who disapproved of the protectorate, but he was popular with the officers, highly esteemed by Monk, and so had kept his place. In him the perplexed general had a councillor who was above suspicion of Royalism. He took him into his confidence, put the whole case before him, and asked his advice. Gumble did not hesitate. He assured him that he had a higher duty than that which he owed to his paymasters. His country called to him to rescue her from the miserableplight to which the clique of visionaries and self-seeking politicians at Westminster had reduced her. It was his duty to obey the call. To a man of Monk's ardent patriotism such an argument could not appeal in vain. It was the argument which finally convinced him it was his duty to move. Once resolved he characteristically acted on the spot. While he himself went to ascertain the state of the Treasury, Gumble was despatched to Price's room to inform him he was to draw up a manifesto; and thence he proceeded to sound such officers as were to be trusted.
The manifesto took the form of a respectful letter to the Parliament, reminding them that they had not yet filled up their numbers nor passed any Electoral Bill, as the very name of Commonwealth required them, and hinting that the army could not in conscience protect their authority unless they forthwith remedied their neglect.
On Sunday evening after service those already in the secret assembled in Price's room to approve the manifesto. It was resolved that it should be presented to the army for signature, and the general proceeded to take precautions against a refusal. Captain Jonathan Smith, his adjutant-general, had been admitted to the secret conclave. Immediately the draft was settled Monk ordered this officer to ride to the commandants of the neighbouring garrisons, who were all men of the right stamp, explain to them the step that was to be taken, and induce them to adopt the necessary measures for preventing the sectaries giving trouble. The general then left the room. On the success of Smith's mission all depended. The army was full of doctrinaire politicians.The Government in London had been careful to draft as many as possible on to the Scotch establishment. These men disliked and suspected Monk, and he had to rely upon those who fought for their pay, by whom he was generally beloved. Smith did not lose a moment. He had already put on his boots, and was taking leave of the rest when the door opened and the general came into the room again. To every one's astonishment he ordered Smith not to go. He had resolved, he said, to wait the post in. By that time Lambert and Booth must have met, and it could do no harm to hear the result before they moved.
No one ventured to demur then, but Price presently followed him from his room. He found him in earnest conversation with his master of the greyhounds, one Kerr of Gradane, one of Montrose's men, in whom Monk took an interest that his love of coursing would hardly explain. Price knew he had some other and more secret designs to back his enterprise, and afterwards Monk told him he had been ready to commission the whole Scottish nation to rise. There can be little doubt that through Kerr he was twisting another string for his bow as strong and trustworthy as the first. "Old George" was not a man to do things by halves.
Price waited till the conversation was done and Kerr was out of hearing, and then he began to press the general to allow Smith to start. Monk was anxious and excited. For the first time in his life his military conscience was not clear, and Price's importunity irritated him past bearing. Turning on him fiercely he seized him by the shoulders. "What, Mr. Price," said he, "will you then bring my neck to the block for theKing, and ruin our whole design by engaging too rashly?"—"Sir," protested the astonished chaplain, "I never named the King to you either now or at any other time."—"Well," replied the general, "I know you have not. But I know you, and have understood your meaning."
It was on this conversation, as Price relates it, that Monk's biographers rely to prove their case that he intended the return of the King from the first. But there can be no doubt that what he said was to get rid of Price by letting him clearly know he saw through him, and had no intention of risking his head or spoiling the patriotic enterprise in which he was engaged for the sake of a Stuart.
At any rate it left Monk in peace. No move was made that night, and early on Monday morning came the startling news that Lambert had crushed Booth's rising at a blow. Once more the confederates met, burned the manifesto, renewed their oaths of secrecy, and thanked Heaven for the narrow escape they had had.
Monk's feelings vented themselves in anger against his brother and Grenville. He felt he had been deceived and entrapped into a plot which had no more bottom than the rest. He angrily told poor Nicholas to go back to his books and meddle no more in conspiracy. He charged him with a similar sharp message to his young cousin, and swore if either of them ever revealed what had passed he would do his best to ruin them both. The affair seems to have been even a greater shock to Mrs. Monk. Price hints that she conceived a sudden antipathy for the King's cause, and lived in terror that her husband would be induced sooner or later to engagein it. She lost no opportunity of proclaiming that she and her son Kit were for the Long Parliament and the "good old cause," and she began again to urge Monk to retire and live in Ireland. The general lent a willing ear. The cashiering of his officers continued. Lambert and the Rump seemed determined to pull together, and every one thought the Government had a new lease of life. Monk knew some attempt would soon be made to displace him, and as he now had less inclination to retain his post than ever he resolved to seize the opportunity of tendering his resignation on the ground of ill-health and long service. He was certainly in earnest. Thrifty Mrs. Monk bought a number of trunks to pack up the household effects, and, contrary to his usual custom, the general wrote direct to the Speaker. Nicholas fortunately warned Clarges that the letter had gone. Clarges managed to get hold of it, took it himself to Lenthal, and in concert with him cleverly arranged not to have it presented to the House for some days; for the commissary had news for his brother-in-law by which he believed he could induce him to reconsider his determination.
It is always a temptation to over-estimate the effect of trifling accidents in history, but certainly few little things have been fraught with weightier consequences than prudent "old George's" idea of waiting the post in. Had he made his great move while Rump and army were at one it is hard to say how long the Revolution might have dragged on its effete existence. It is indeed possible that he might still have succeeded in closing it, but it could only have been at the cost of a bloody civil war.
Now things were changed. Intoxicated with their success over the rebels, Lambert and Fleetwood, with the army-party, in a formal petition had made demands which it was impossible for the Rump to grant. Sir Arthur Haslerig, the hot-headed leader of the pure Republicans, had moved a vote of censure on Lambert, and Clarges was able to inform his brother-in-law that a breach was imminent. Monk at once instructed him to withdraw his resignation. He saw his duty clearly before him now, and waited quietly for news. The petition was forwarded to the Scotch army for signature, and its authors attempted to gain Monk over to their interest bythe offer of supreme command of the foot, and the rank of general in the standing army which they meant permanently to establish. His reply was to absolutely forbid a man under his command to sign the obnoxious document.
On September 27th another meeting of the English officers was held at which demands so extravagant were framed that the moderate men withdrew, and sent up to Monk imploring him to use his influence to prevent a breach. He did his best in a letter to Fleetwood. But no one knew better than he that the attempt was useless, and his brother was hurried off to London with Mary Monk and a secret message to Clarges. No military scruples perplexed the old soldier now. His duty to his paymasters and his duty to his country were one. His commission stood no longer in the way of his patriotism or his political creed, and he spoke at last with no uncertain voice; for Commissary Clarges was charged to assure the House that if they would only stand firm in asserting their authority over the army he would stand by them, and be ready, should the need arise, to march into England to their defence.
With this message—the death-warrant of the English Revolution—Nicholas Monk reached London on October 11th. Over eleven years ago, in "the first year of freedom, by God's blessing restored," the chiefs of the army had met at Windsor to seek their duty from the Lord. In a long ecstasy of prayer and tears they had sought counsel of their God, and the answer came—the King must die. From that hour revolution had ridden triumphant on the shoulders of the army. But its day was done, its work was accomplished, and the mostperfect soldier of them all had risen up to enforce the simple gospel of obedience. Prayer or no prayer, King or no King, the soldier's duty was to obey, and not to command.
For two days the House had been considering the new petition from the army, determined not to grant and afraid to reject it. The debate stood adjourned till the morrow without hope of a solution to the problem. It was late in the evening when Nicholas Monk reached Clarges. In the first hours of the morning the commissary roused the Speaker and Haslerig with his news. The whole situation was changed as if by magic. No sooner was the House met than the tidings flew from mouth to mouth, and in rapid succession a series of votes were passed bidding defiance to Lambert and the army. "Resolved that if they must leave their soft seats they would first empty out the feathers," they made it high treason to collect taxes without their consent, cashiered Lambert, Desborough, and the seven other colonels who were concerned in the movement, deprived Fleetwood of the command of the army, and vested it in a commission in which he was associated with Monk, Haslerig, Ludlow, Morley, Walton, and Overton, all staunch Parliament men. The following morning Lambert had seized the approaches of the House. Once more the Rump was the victim of acoup d'état, and a military committee of safety reigned in its stead.
Monk had foretold the quarrel months ago. On the morning of the 17th the news for which he had been waiting reached him at Dalkeith, and with startling rapidity he set about backing his words. Never hadsoldier a more difficult and dangerous task. In any one of lesser calibre the attempt would be called madness. He was face to face at last with his old rival. He was about to defy the most brilliant of Cromwell's generals, and before he could call his strength his own he had to tear from it its toughest fibres. The London officers had succeeded in making his army a hotbed of the very opinions he had determined to crush with it. On the whole Scotch establishment there was hardly a colonel who was above suspicion. Every garrison and every company were full of the veteran fanatics who had taught the world the art of revolution, and every man of them in his heart rejoiced at Lambert's success. With this element free, his army was Lambert's army. At all cost it must be made powerless, though it was the very soul of his force. But Monk did not hesitate. Not a moment was to be lost. In a few hours the news would be all over Scotland and the chance gone. All the principal garrisons, with the exception of Stirling and Aberdeen, were in the hands of Lambert's nominees, and the whole venture turned upon the rapidity with which they could be secured.
Hardly was Clarges's despatch in the general's hands when Captain Smith was galloping for Edinburgh and Leith to take the first step towards mastering the garrisons there. The capital was occupied by Monk's own regiment and Talbot's "Black Colours." Talbot's was far from sound, and in the general's own there was hardly an officer who was not a rank Anabaptist. Fortunately, in the absence of the superior officers, Talbot's was being commanded by its major, Hubblethorne, and Monk's by its senior captain, Ethelbert Morgan. AtLeith was "Wilkes's," also in charge of its major, Hughes; while in widely scattered quarters in the country round lay the general's own regiment of horse under Johnson, its senior captain.
These four men were summoned to Dalkeith and at once formed into a Council of War, together with such well-affected officers as Monk had managed to have about him in anticipation of the crisis. Their first step was to stop the post into England, and then far into the night they sat methodically but rapidly maturing every detail of the move. In the morning all was in working order. Two of the impromptu Council, who belonged to the garrisons at Perth and Ayr, were away at dawn to secure those fortresses. They were only captains, but in his hour of need Monk had hardly a single field-officer whom he could trust. At the same time Johnson was despatching orderlies right and left to concentrate the horse: Hubblethorne and Ethelbert Morgan were away again with secret orders; and far and wide messengers were spurring to summon the most dangerous officers to headquarters, while small parties of horse were leisurely taking up their posts to waylay and arrest them as they came.
By dinner-time a troop of horse arrived at Dalkeith to escort the general to Edinburgh. He had determined to take the capital in hand himself, and as soon as he had dined he rode away. Meanwhile his secret orders had been carried out to the letter. He found his own regiment and Talbot's paraded in the High Street, and Captain Johnson in waiting with two more troops of his horse. Satisfied with his inspection the general rode on quietly to his quarters, and once there proceeded tocashier nearly the whole of the officers of his own foot. The command was given to Morgan, and Major Hubblethorne made lieutenant-colonel of the "Black Colours." This done he returned to the High Street, and placing himself at the head of the two regiments marched them down to the open space before Greyfriars' Church. No sooner were they again in line than he ordered the arrest of the whole of the cashiered officers. Resistance was out of the question. Monk's own had been paraded without ammunition. The musketeers of the "Black Colours" wore their bullet-bags and bandoliers; the sulphurous smell of their matches perfumed the air with menace; at the general's back were his faithful troops of horse—and his order was obeyed.
Without giving his leaderless regiment a moment to think Monk followed up the blow with a pithy and soldier-like speech, asking them if they thought it right for the Scotch army to submit to the insolent extravagancies of the home forces. "For my own part," he cried, "I think myself obliged by the duty of my place to keep the military power in obedience to the civil. Since we have received our pay and commissions from the Parliament it is our duty to defend them. In this I expect the ready obedience of you all. But if any do declare their dissent to my resolution, they shall have liberty to leave the service, and may take their passes to be gone."
A thundering shout greeted his words. Not a man was there but cried with wild enthusiasm he would live and die for "old George." Edinburgh was won, but the day's work was not yet over. As he left the parade-ground a despatch was put into his hand. Itwas from his friend Colonel Myers, the governor of Berwick. The key of the London road was of the first importance to Monk, and Myers declared he could not hold it against the numerous Anabaptist officers in his command. Monk immediately ordered a troop of horse to his assistance; but a new difficulty arose. Berwick was forty miles away. Not a trooper was in Edinburgh who had not ridden twenty that day. The roads were deep in mire, and every one declared the march impossible. It was a word Monk did not often listen to. The march must be made. The general appealed to Johnson as he only knew how, and as the night fell the captain and his troop were spurring for the Border through the Nether Bow Port.
Monk's drastic proceedings at Edinburgh were but a type of what happened all over Scotland. By the time he had in person secured and purged Leith and Linlithgow, messengers began to pour into headquarters to report that everywhere his promptitude had paralysed resistance. Every garrison was in his hands and every high-road was resounding with the tramp of the troops he had ordered to concentrate on Edinburgh. There, too, Colonel Cobbett arrived a prisoner. It was Johnson's offering to his general. It had been the first act of the Committee of Safety to send up the colonel post-haste to secure not only Berwick, but the Scotch army as well, and to arrest Monk if he objected. A few hours before he reached the Border Johnson's exhausted troop had toiled into Berwick, and Cobbett arrived to find himself a prisoner.
Monk had now time to breathe. On the 20th the post was allowed to go, and with it went three official letters from the general. One was to the Speaker, laconicallyinforming him that the Scotch army was at the service of the Parliament if it were still under restraint, and that in accordance with his new commission he had cashiered such officers as would not recognise its authority. "I do call God to witness," he concluded, "that the asserting of a Commonwealth is the only intent of my heart, and I desire if possible to avoid the shedding of blood, and therefore entreat you that there may be a good understanding between Parliament and army. But if they will not obey your commands I will not desert you according to my duty and promise."
In the same strain he wrote to Fleetwood imploring him to restore the Parliament. "Otherwise," he says, "I am resolved by the assistance of God, with this army under my command, to declare for them and prosecute this just cause to the last drop of my blood.... I do plainly assure your lordship I was never better satisfied with the justice of any engagement than in this.... I desire your lordship not to be deluded by the specious pretences of any ambitious person whatever." He speaks pathetically of his shame to see his country the scorn of Europe, and again calls God to witness he has no other end than the Restoration of parliamentary authority, "and those good laws which our ancestors have purchased with so much blood.... And I take myself so far obliged, being in the Parliament's service, to stand though alone in this quarrel."
The third letter was to Lambert. He was "the ambitious person" on whom Monk had his eye; and short and sharp as the letter was, he was careful to let his old rival know that he suspected him of aiming at a dictatorship. He repeated his determination to standby the evicted Parliament; "for, sir," he concluded, "the nature of England will not endure any arbitrary power, neither will any true Englishman in the army, so that such a design will be ruinous and destructive. Therefore I do earnestly entreat you that we may not be a scorn to all the world and a prey to our enemies, that the Parliament may be speedily restored to their freedom which they enjoyed on the 11th of this instant."
These plain-spoken letters fell like thunderbolts amongst the London officers. Fleetwood, Lambert, and Desborough met at Whitehall in consternation. With the short-sighted conceit of second-rate men they had practically omitted Monk from their calculations. They had mistaken his modest ambitions for indifference. The Quixotic loyalty which had made him submit to the insolent orders of the war-office while Parliament was sitting, they had taken for stupidity. Now with the suddenness of a dream this despised soldier of fortune, this exalted drill-sergeant, as they thought him, towered like a giant before them as the three politicians sat together astounded. Midnight struck, and with the madness of doomed men they sent for Clarges. The result of the interview with Monk's subtle agent was that he and Colonel Talbot were ordered to start for Scotland within three hours to invite Monk to agree to an armistice preliminary to settling their quarrel by a treaty.
Their action was none too prompt. They knew well enough what to expect when Monk had once declared. We know the importance he attached to the first rapid moves of a campaign. Lambert at least was aware of his methods, and knew he would not waste a moment. Nor did he. No sooner were the Scotch garrisons safethan a party of horse was sent to secure Carlisle, and a small mixed column was pushed forward from Berwick to surprise Newcastle. The attempt on Carlisle failed, through the incompetency of the officer in command. The Newcastle column came to a halt at Morpeth. Colonel Lilburne, the man whom Monk had superseded in Scotland, and who was now in command of the northern district, had thrown himself with a strong reinforcement into the threatened town. Determined to avoid a conflict till he was ready, Monk ordered a retreat to Alnwick.
As it happened, no accident could have been more fortunate for the success of Monk's designs. Had he taken Newcastle, in a week it would have been besieged by Lambert and Monk could not have moved to its relief. Owing to the weather the Scotch army was concentrating with exasperating slowness, and insubordination was by no means at an end. Wholesale desertions began to take place. Men were whispering that the general "had the King in his belly." To stop their mouths he convened a permanent Council of War and committed to it the whole of his correspondence. He used the press freely, and printed all his official letters. But difficulties seemed to grow every day. The armies of England and Ireland refused to join him, and the fleet followed their example. In the midst of his perplexities Clarges arrived at Edinburgh, and showed him where his escape lay. The Treasury in London was empty; Monk's was overflowing. Lambert must place his troops at free quarters, and pay them with plunder. It was a mere matter of time for the whole country to turn against him, and for his army to melt away piecemeal. Immediate action wasLambert's only game. Every day he must grow weaker, while Monk was ever gathering new strength as troop after troop and company after company marched into Edinburgh from the Highlands.
In negotiation Monk saw the delay he needed. His Council of War, being thoroughly averse to fighting their comrades who had bled for the old cause, embraced the idea with enthusiasm, and a commission, consisting of three colonels whom Monk trusted, was appointed to treat with the Committee of Safety. A warm debate took place over the bases of negotiation. The Council were inclined to ask for a new Parliament. Monk insisted on the restoration of his masters, nor would he consent to the counter-proposition unless it were made contingent on the refusal of the Rump to sit. Not content with this, he gave the commissioners secret instructions before they left not to disclose their power to treat for a new Parliament till the last moment. For he well knew that Fleetwood and Lambert would never agree to restore the Rump if there was a possibility of a settlement on any other terms. Having thus very cleverly thrown back the onus of a civil war on Lambert, while at the same time he had done his strict duty to his commission and his best to prolong the negotiations, Monk agreed to an armistice, and allowed the commission to depart.
At York they found Lambert with the head-quarters of the English army. Professing an authority from the Committee of Safety, he made an effort to treat with them on the spot. But mindful of their secret instructions they insisted on the question of the Parliament being first settled, and he was compelled to suffer them to proceed on their journey.
But even then his evil genius had not done with him. He felt that by allowing the negotiations to go forward he had removed one of his rival's difficulties. In a desperate effort to recover the ground he had thus lost he removed the other. All that Monk now required was a man whom he could trust to reorganise his army, and reduce it to the obedient machine of his ideal. The one man in the world to do it was his old comrade Morgan, who had recently returned from serving with the English contingent in the Low Countries under Turenne. He was still Major-general on the Scotch establishment, but had been laid up at York with gout. He was now recovered, and Monk had written to him to rejoin. The letter had been intercepted by Lilburne, and Morgan was still at York pretending to disapprove of the Scotch proceedings. His importance was well understood. Next to Monk he was considered the finest soldier in the three kingdoms. After his brilliant capture of Ypres, the great Turenne had embraced him on the shattered walls and told him with effusion he was amongst the bravest captains of his time. Yet this was the man that Lambert, with the fatuity of those whom Heaven has doomed, chose to send to Monk in order to induce him to lay down his arms.
What happened when the two old comrades met was only to be expected. Morgan delivered his message with a laugh, but never took back an answer. That was more than he had promised. He told his friend he had come to return to his duty, for he was no politician, and felt his best course was to follow a man whom he knew to be a true lover of his country.
The presence of the fiery little dragoon made itselffelt immediately. Cashiering and remodelling went on briskly, and so great was the enthusiasm which Morgan inspired that, in spite of the efforts of incendiaries from London, desertions entirely ceased. Without further anxiety Monk was able to devote himself to his statecraft. His correspondence at this time was enormous. Openly or in secret he was in communication with men of all shades of opinion, from constitutional Royalists like Lord Fairfax to pronounced Republicans like Haslerig. From all sides came envoys to expostulate or encourage. From Ireland Cornet Monk brought a message from the general's old comrades Coote and Jones, that they had every hope the Irish army would declare for him before long. The London Independents despatched delegates to mediate. Whatever the pretence, every one was trying to find out what the silent soldier intended. The burden of his answer was the same to all, that unless Lambert and his friends restored the Parliament, "he meant to lay them on their backs." For Haslerig and the Independents it was too much, for Lord Fairfax and the men of Booth's insurrection too little. The whole question was, what Parliament did he mean to restore? Was it the Long Parliament as it existed before Cromwell purged it of the Presbyterian Royalists, or was it the Republican Rump that was left when they were gone? The former meant a constitutional restoration; the latter a continuance of the republic.
But this alternative by no means sums up the political situation with which Monk suddenly found himself face to face. The complex condition of parties at this time is only comparable to that which exists in France to-day. In the place of the Legitimists were the old Cavaliers,in that of the Orleanists were the Moderate Royalists, who looked to a restoration by constitutional means. But there was this wide difference. Both monarchical parties supported the same dynasty, and together they formed the majority of the kingdom. They included practically the whole of the country gentlemen and all the Presbyterians of the Covenant. And whatever Monk might think of the expediency of a restoration, they represented the ideas which in his heart he regarded with the greatest favour. Next in strength and in Monk's sympathy was the party which corresponds to the French Moderate Republicans. It consisted of the old Commonwealth men, with Haslerig and Vane at their head, and was represented by the Rump, but it must be always remembered that they repudiated the idea of a president. For Napoleonists there were the Cromwellians, who, though now an exhausted and leaderless party, still clung to the principle of a protectorate. The field which the pure Opportunists occupy was filled by Lambert and his admirers, who, while they branded Haslerig as a reactionary, coquetted with the King. Together these two groups formed the right of the Army-party, which was held together by a vague policy of the supremacy of the military over the civil power. Its left looked to Fleetwood. Like the extreme left in France, this faction included men of a great variety of opinions, and in striking analogy to contemporary political phenomena, its moving spirits were the Anabaptists and Fifth Monarchy men, the Socialists and Anarchists of the time.
It is not of course pretended that the parallel is exact, but it is sufficiently close to bring the situation vividly before us; and when we remember that as inFrance the parties were constantly combining into new groups, and further how complicated the whole position was by religious differences, it will serve as well as a detailed account to picture for us the labyrinth through which Monk was about to try and thread his way without violating the sacredness of his commission. No man ever approached a situation so difficult with so little experience or assistance. "Counsellor I have none to rely on," he is reported to have said at this time. "Many of my officers have been false, and that all the rest will prove true is too much gaiety to hope. But religion, law, liberty, and my own fame are at stake. I will go on and leave the event to God." No aim more patriotic was ever set up with more manly devotion. His success was then and still is regarded as an accident or a miracle. Be that as it may, in the whole roll of history there can be found no greater moral lesson than the story of the plain and steadfast purpose with which at last the end was won.
By the middle of November the Scotch army was thoroughly remodelled and placed on its war-footing. Certain of the failure of the negotiations and regardless of the hardships of a winter campaign, on the 18th Monk began to move for the front. In his rear all was secure in spite of the denudation of the garrisons. Their fortifications had been freely dismantled, and by calling a Convention Parliament under the presidency of Glencairn he had come to a definite understanding with the Scots. So excellent were the relations he had established with them by his just and sympathetic government, severe as it was, that without holding out the slightest hope of a restoration he had received from them an undertaking that the country would not only remain quiet, but even assist him with a large force. The last offer he was prudent enough to refuse, fearing it would bring him under suspicion of Royalism.
The first halt was at Haddington. Everything had gone well, and the general was sitting down to supper with his officers amidst the hopeful excitement that marks the first move to the front. Hardly, however, had grace been said when some officers from London wereannounced. They presented the general with a packet. He tore it open where he sat, read it through, and then tossing it to his officers abruptly left the room without a word. With cries of rage they found it was a treaty into which their commissioners had been cheated and coerced, and which conceded to the Committee of Safety every point upon which the Scotch army had insisted.
It was a blow heavy enough to crush the stoutest heart, and at daybreak the general returned to Edinburgh, where the news had already raised a storm of fury. Officers crowded to head-quarters with despair and anger on their faces, and eagerly waited till Monk had done his breakfast. At last he strode into the ante-room and began talking up and down in sullen silence. Not a word was spoken till his confidant, Dr. Gumble, ventured to accost him. "What do you think of this agreement?" said the general abruptly. The doctor replied at once by asking leave to escape into Holland, for whatever the rest might hope he knew his life was not safe. "What!" cried Monk angrily, "do you lay the blame on me? If the army will stick to me I will stick to them." A burst of enthusiasm greeted his words. Every officer present vowed he would live and die with him, and shout after shout of joy re-echoed through the city as the news spread through the ranks of the soldiers.
A confidential council was called in the afternoon, and it was decided instead of repudiating the treaty to prolong the negotiations. To this end it was resolved to request a conference at Alnwick to explain doubtful points in the articles on the ground that they appeared to be inconsistent with the commissioners' instructions. Next morning a general advance to the Border wasordered, and by the end of the month the head-quarters were at Berwick. Another delay was gained, and to prevent the possibility of a premature collision Monk withdrew his outpost in Northumberland. Every day some encouraging news added a fresh value to the armistice. Clarges had returned to London, but before he left Edinburgh Monk had told him that if he restored the Parliament he should not feel it his duty to prevent the secluded members resuming their seats. With this the astute commissary had been able to satisfy Lord Fairfax on his way south, and was now able to announce that the Yorkshire gentlemen would be ready to rise for a free Parliament by the middle of January. The old Council of State had met in secret at the capital, and sent down to Monk a commission as general of all the forces in England and Scotland. Fleetwood was growing more suspicious of Lambert every hour, and in his anxiety to come to an understanding with Monk agreed to the proposed conference. Lambert was in despair. His army at Newcastle was showing signs of insubordination. Money was running short. The ranks were full of sectaries devoted to Fleetwood. He knew that further delay meant ruin, and he despatched Colonel Zankey to Berwick with fresh proposals on his own account to hasten the ratification of the treaty. Zankey arrived early in December, in company with the retreating outpost from Alnwick. In high spirits at this new sign of discord in the enemy's camp the Council met. A long bantering discussion ensued. Every argument which Zankey could urge was made light of, his terms refused, and Monk, well satisfied with the day's work, went to bed—but not to rest.
At one o'clock in the morning he was aroused with alarming news. A strong brigade of Lambert's cavalry with two guns had seized Chillingham Castle, which was but twenty miles from the Border. Furious to think that the precious armistice was broken, and still more that Lambert should have taken advantage of the withdrawal of the outposts to cover an advance with a flag of truce, he ordered Zankey's instant arrest. It was a fearful night. The darkness was impenetrable and a storm was raging. But at such a moment nothing mattered to the tough old campaigner. In an hour his orders for the army were written, and he was galloping away recklessly to inspect the fords uphill and downhill along the frozen roads, regardless of the protests of his staff. "It was God's infinite mercy we had not our necks broke," wrote one of them afterwards. At Norham the storm had increased to such a fury that he was compelled to take shelter in the castle. By daylight, however, he had visited every pass over the Tweed, and a little before noon he reached Coldstream, where he intended to make his head-quarters. Here was the best ford over the river, and he had ordered a strong force to muster for its protection. So well had his orders been obeyed that he found his troops had already consumed everything that was fit for food or drink in the place. But "old George" was as indifferent to hunger as he was to fatigue. In dismay his staff saw him sit down in a small cottage and quietly take out a quid of tobacco. It was for him all that Captain Bobadil boasted. His staff stole away to hunt for a dinner, and when they returned the general was still serenely chewing where they had left him.
Lambert's supposed advance had proved a false alarm.It was but an unauthorised raid for plunder. But it was enough to show the old strategist his danger. If Lambert had the sense or power to make a dash over the Border with his thousands of horse and mounted infantry, Monk was so weak in those arms that he would be compelled to retreat, and retreat meant ruin. Everything depended on a strong defensive position, and with consummate skill he marked one out. The bulk of the little army was stationed on the right at Kelso, and intrusted to Morgan, who had orders to exercise it daily in the general's pet formation of mixed files of horse and foot. From Kelso as far as Berwick every pass was occupied, and the troops quartered in the neighbouring villages and farmsteads. Yet within four hours, so nicely was every detail adjusted, the whole force could be concentrated on a given point. The position was practically impregnable. The desolate character of the country in its front rendered an attack in force impossible. Even if Lambert could have induced his pampered army to move, he could not have fed them for the time a concentration would take in the fearful weather that prevailed. If he attempted a turning movement by the Carlisle road Monk would get three days' start in London, and the Scotch army was too strong to be checked by any force that Lambert could safely detach from his main body.
To perfect his masterly disposition Monk established himself in the centre at Coldstream. His quarters were a smoky little thatched cottage with but one room. His bed was so small that he used it as a pillow, with his legs and body resting uneasily on benches. Indeed he and his officers suffered here every hardship that bad lodging, worse food, and intense cold could inflict; but such was thespirit which the general's example infused that the only effect of their sufferings was to arouse a cheery spirit of freemasonry among them. Till their dying day it was their pride to be called Coldstreamers. They never ceased to bore their friends with Coldstream stories, nor tired of joking about the chapel in the cowhouse and the beer that went bad before it got cold.
Severe as were their privations, for the rest of the year they had to bear them with as much of the general's equanimity as they could attain. As for him, he never left his quarters for a night except once, to meet the delegates of the Scots Convention at Berwick for the final settlement of the affairs of the interior while he was away. For the rest comfort was not wanting. The colder it grew the more difficult it was for Lambert to move, and if good liquor was scarce, good news flowed in plenty through the secret channels which Clarges had laid. In London riots were being suppressed with bloodshed, and mutiny was threatening at Newcastle. The Fanatics of Fleetwood's party, of whom the army was full, began to distrust Lambert's ambition, while Monk's judicious refusal to allow the Scots to arm restored the confidence of those who had hitherto suspected him of malignancy. The Irish regiments had not forgotten him; the Parliament's guards were plainly inclined to its champion; at head-quarters mutinies daily alarmed the Council; and Fleetwood's only idea of restoring discipline was to fall on his knees at the head of the disaffected regiments and say his prayers.
Still the negotiations could not be prolonged for ever, ingenious as was the committee which Monk had appointed to carry them on. It was therefore an immenserelief when tidings came that the governor of Portsmouth had opened his gates to Haslerig, Morley, and Walton. Monk at once sent to Lambert to say that as three of his fellow-commissioners had returned to their duty he could not continue the negotiation without consulting them. "He has not used me well," said poor Lambert, and refused to grant a pass to Portsmouth. Monk's messenger had to return, but not empty. He came bursting with news. Vice-Admiral Lawson had declared for Monk's programme, and the fleet was threatening to blockade the Thames. In the same hour from Portpatrick arrived an officer to tell how the general's old comrades had seized Dublin Castle, and that the Irish army was ready to assist him actively. In the midst of the thanksgivings for these mercies a kinsman of Lord Fairfax stole over the hills to announce that the Yorkshire gentlemen would be ready to fall on Lambert's rear by New Year's Day, and at the Yorkshire general's request Monk promised to watch Lambert "as a cat did a mouse," and to advance to their assistance the moment there was a sign of a movement against them.
Indeed things were going almost too well. Price grew alarmed that the Rump was going to triumph completely, and though his dangerous presence was tabooed by Monk he stole into head-quarters in the dead of night. Rousing the weary soldier from his uneasy couch he implored him to remember the "old known laws." "Mr. Price," said Monk passionately, "I know your meaning, and I have known it. By the grace of God I will do it if ever I can find it in my power; and I do not much doubt but that I shall." Then seizing both his chaplain's hands he said again, "By God's helpI will do it." It is perfectly clear that Monk's love for his country inspired him with a desire to see monarchy re-established by a free Parliament as the only durable settlement, and that at this moment he was very hopeful aboutit.9It is equally certain he did not intend to restore Charles by force; and even if a Stuart were in his eyes worth a drop of English blood, even if he had had any faith in a settlement that was founded in civil war, his creed was still unshaken, and he meant so far as in him lay to keep the army from meddling with the civil power. He held the commission of the Rump, and had signified his intention to be loyal to it by signing a manifesto of the army by which he bound himself to restore the Parliament as it was before the latecoup d'état.
Price's anxiety was but too well justified. On the last day of the year a messenger came ploughing through the snow to Coldstream with startling news. Fleetwood's army had mutinied. "The Lord had spit in his face." He had given up the game, and the Rump was sitting again at Westminster. Fortunately it was not the end of the tidings. Fairfax had been compelled to rise prematurely, owing to the discovery of his plot, and Monk promptly issued orders for the little army to concentrate on Coldstream. Despatch after despatch interrupted his preparations. Lilburne's regiment had deserted to Fairfax, and the whole Irish Brigade had followed its example. It was clear that Lambert's only chance was a swift back-stroke at Fairfax, and Monk determined to anticipate the intelligence he hourly expected. As the first gray beams of the year 1660began to streak the leaden sky they lit up a memorable picture. Erect in his saddle amidst the trampled snow sat the warlike figure of the great soldier of fortune, on whose sagacity hung the destiny of Britain; and past him filed rank after rank the vanguard of his toil-stained troops as they strode cheerily on to cross the white plain of the frozen Tweed.
The famous movement had begun. Colonel Knight, by a splendid march through the snow, reached Morpeth with the vanguard the same evening. Finding Lambert had fallen back against Fairfax, he continued his advance, and the following morning surprised and seized Newcastle at break of day. The general followed with the rest of the army. All told it consisted of but four weak regiments of horse and six fine ones of foot. It was divided into two brigades, one under himself and the other under Morgan. The first night they reached Wooler, and heard officially from the Speaker of the restoration of the Rump, and unofficially that Lambert, deserted by his army, had disappeared. The Speaker's letter contained an acknowledgment of Monk's services, but no orders. He therefore ignored his unofficial intelligence and continued his advance. On the 4th he reached Morpeth, where he was received by the Sheriff of Northumberland. Next day arrived from London the City Sword-bearer with a petition from the Lord Mayor and Corporation that he would declare for a full Parliament, as they were unrepresented in the Rump. A deputation from the Newcastle municipality invited him to the town, and accordingly he entered it amidst the first of those ovations which were to mark every step of his memorable march.
Yet in spite of the enthusiasm that his soldierly figure excited whenever it appeared in the streets, Monk could not congratulate himself on his position. He had practically failed. Instead of giving his country a free Parliament he had restored the Rump. For England he saw nothing but new political troubles, for himself a repetition of the suspicion and ingratitude he had already experienced. Still he held their commission, and felt bound to do his duty to them. All else was dark before him. So Dr. Gumble was sent to London to convey his compliments and humble advice to the authorities, and as secretly as possible to see what could be made out of the situation. Nor did he depart further from the path of duty than to allow an officer to proceed to his old comrades in Ireland, suggesting that the Irish army should petition for a free Parliament.
From Coldstream, as soon as he heard the Rump was sitting, he had written to the Speaker for orders. As yet none had arrived, and he determined, in pursuance of his new authority as commander-in-chief, to advance to York. There he arrived on the 11th, to find no trace of Fairfax or his party. They had disappeared, and the city was in the hands of troops who had gone over to the Parliament. The rest of Lambert's deserters had joined the Yorkshire gentlemen, but had sent to the right-about every Cavalier that had shown himself at the rendezvous. Buckingham himself, Fairfax's own son-in-law, had had to go in spite of his irreproachable professions. York had refused to receive any of Fairfax's partisans. Lord Fairfax himself, sensible of a fiasco, had made a fit of the gout an excuse for retiring to his own house. However, on Monk's arrival he enteredthe city in state to see him. With every argument he urged him to stay where he was and declare for the King. Monk of course refused, but he could not prevent his association with Fairfax arousing the old suspicions. No means was omitted to clear himself. An officer was heard to say that Monk would at last bring in Charles Stuart, and the old general, in a fit of exasperation, publicly gave him a sound thrashing for his pains.
Still these suspicions were not without their value. The Rump shared them. They dare not leave him with Fairfax; they dare not order him to retreat. There was no course but to tell him to advance, and Monk obeyed with alacrity. Sending Morgan back to keep Scotland quiet, and leaving Colonel Fairfax to occupy York, he marched on the 16th with an army increased, by a careful selection from Lambert's deserters, to nearly six thousand men. His progress was a triumph. The peasantry thronged to the highway to stare at the deliverer as he passed. The church-bells rang. The gentry came in troops with addresses, urging on him the necessity of a full Parliament. Silent as a sphinx, the harassed soldier rode on through it all, while all the world watched him. Every eye, every ear, was strained for a sign; and a safe platitude or two about his country's welfare and the duty of his place was all that could be dragged from his impenetrable reserve.
As he advanced his perplexities and his silence increased. On the 18th Gumble met him at Mansfield to say that already half the House were his declared enemies. An oath for the abjuration of the Stuart dynasty had been imposed upon the new Council of State, of whichhe had been made a member. An attempt, however, to order its administration to the House had led to a determined resistance from the best of the old Commonwealth men. The House was split into two factions, and Monk's popularity with the non-abjurers was but adding to the suspicions of the abjurers. At Nottingham Clarges arrived to confirm and add to Gumble's intelligence. A deputation, consisting of Scot, the new Secretary of State, and Robinson, another abjuring member of the Government, was on its way to offer him the congratulations of the House, but with secret instructions to watch his every movement and endeavour to entrap him into abjuring. The London garrison, too, had by no means acquiesced in Fleetwood's surrender, and was still in a state of sullen hostility. It was clear that the crisis was not yet at an end, and there was still hope for Monk, that if he could once establish himself in London and keep things quiet, one party or the other would force on a general election. The chief difficulty was Fleetwood's army. It was stronger than Monk's, and out of its entire roll only two foot regiments, Morley's and Fagg's, could be trusted. Ashley Cooper had a regiment of horse, but it certainly would not obey him. Fortunately in the House the non-abjurers were in the majority, and at Clarges's suggestion Monk used his few remaining hours of liberty to prepare a letter to the Speaker pointing out the advisability of removing from about the Parliament the regiments which were as yet hardly cool from rebellion.
On Monday the 22nd he continued his march, and before Leicester was reached Scot and Robinson appeared. From that moment he could not call his soul his own. By day they had him to ride in their coach, by nightthey bored holes in the partitions that separated their room from his. They got up discussions at meals and stood at his elbow while he received the endless deputations and addresses that were showered in his path. All was of no avail. The old soldier stuck to the plain rule that had served him so well through life, and was not to be caught. Finding the situation was getting beyond him, he patiently resumed his unassailable position of the obedient and disinterested soldier of fortune. He received the commissioners as his superior officers. The troops had orders to halt and present arms whenever their coach passed, and in every way they were treated with the ceremony reserved for a commander-in-chief. The commissioners were delighted, and sent glowing accounts to the Speaker. They even accepted the general's excuse for not at once taking the Oath of Abjuration. He had understood, he said, that some members of the Government had refused it, and he felt it was better to wait till he got to London and could hear both sides.
The deputations from the city and the counties that met him at every town as he proceeded knew not what to make of it. The general received them with the utmost civility, and the commissioners railed at their petitions. The principal points they variously urged were a full and free Parliament, a dissolution, and the admission of the members secluded in 1648 without any previous oath or engagement. Sometimes the general found himself compelled to answer them. If the Parliament were not yet free, he told them, he would endeavour to remove the restraint that remained. The House had already decided to fill up the vacant places, and then it would be full. It had agreed to dissolve itself of itsown accord, and as for admitting members to sit without any engagement to the Government, such a thing was never heard of, and besides, the House had decided not to readmit them. And he politely expressed his surprise that they thought him capable of so far forgetting his duty to his commission as to question the resolution. Thoroughly disheartened the deputations retired to fall into the hands of enthusiastic staff-officers, who filled them with new wonder. Monk seems to have told his friends to do their best to remove any bad impression his reception of the addresses might arouse, and they interpreted their instructions with some freedom. Lavish promises were made in the general's name, and every one was told to proceed actively with the petitioning without paying the slightest attention to what Monk pretended to think of them.
So the people only shouted more loudly and the bells rang more merrily as the triumph went on through Harborough, Northampton, Dunstable, till on the 28th St. Albans was reached. Here a halt was made to allow the columns to close up and for the crucial request to be made. For Monk determined from here to despatch the letter which had been prepared at Nottingham. Clarges was sent on before to pave the way for its reception. It was a critical moment. The House had just confirmed Monk's commission of general. It was a rank then considered so dangerously exalted as to be hardly ever conferred. Indeed before the Revolution it had seldom been borne except by the sovereign, and already thequidnuncsbegan to talk of his alliance with the Plantagenets. It was the very point upon which the leaders of the army had finally broken with Parliament, and the first act ofMonk in his new capacity was to request that the whole of Fleetwood's troops might be removed from the capital to make way for his own.
A violent debate ensued. Haslerig opposed it with all his weight, but so well organised were the non-abjurers and so favourable had been Scot's reports that the request was granted. The great difficulty was overcome, and on February 2nd Monk moved to Barnet. That night for the first time the commissioners slept in another house. Apparently they intended to make one despairing effort on the part of the abjurers to keep Monk from peacefully occupying the capital. At all events about midnight the Secretary of State rushed into Monk's quarters in his night-shirt and slippers crying that the apprentices were out and the garrison in mutiny. He implored, he commanded Monk to march on the spot and restore order, but the old general was perfectly unmoved. He grimly told him he would undertake to be in London early enough in the morning to prevent mischief, and Scot had to go back to bed. Some considerable disturbance there had been, but before Monk marched next day it had been easily suppressed by a few troops of horse and something on account of arrears.
Next night there was high feasting at Westminster. Weeks ago at Holyrood Monk's butler had promised the staff a bottle of wine at Whitehall on Candlemas Day. He was a wag whom Charles the First had mock-knighted one evening at supper with his table-knife in the old days at Oxford. It was only a day late, and "Sir" Ralph Mort was called on to pay his wager as the general sat with the Coldstreamers in the "Prince's Apartment" rejoicing at the success of their move. Everything had gone well.Days before at Nottingham the details of the occupation had been arranged, and the troops had quietly marched to their quarters without a hitch. True the Coldstreamers' reception had not been enthusiastic. In vain had Monk ridden down Chancery Lane and the Strand at the head of his army, with trumpeters and led horses and all the pomp of a general in the field. In vain was his staff swelled by a brilliant crowd of gaily-dressed gentlemen. For the thoughtful the general's intentions were too dark: for the thoughtless his troops were too shabby; and the entry was made with the cold precision of an operation of war.