Monk had hardly time to weary of his inactivity before a new storm burst in the north. Scotland had taken to herself a covenanted King, and an invasion was resolved upon by the English Parliament. Cromwell was recalled from Ireland, and in June, 1650, to the confusion of the Presbyterian opposition, he was voted to the command of the army. He at once sent for Monk to assist him in the organisation of his forces, and promised him a regiment.
The significance of this it is hard to exaggerate. When we remember how fastidious Cromwell was about the private character of the men he worked with, it cannot but impress us with the extraordinary sense he must have had of his obligations to Monk. The highest military abilities would never have induced him to employ a man who was living in open contempt of the seventh commandment. It was an offence of such gravity at that time that it had been recently made capital. Yet Cromwell was determined his trusty friend should have his reward, and that in spite of the difficulty of finding him a regiment. The command of Bright's, which lay at Alnwick, was vacant, but a dangerousspirit of democracy and autonomy was growing in the army. Bright's had been one of the victorious regiments at Nantwich. They had to be asked if they would accept Monk for colonel, and they refused. "We took him prisoner," they cried, "at Nantwich not long since, and he will betray us," and ominously enough Lambert, with whom the last great struggle was to be, was chosen in his stead. From that moment the two most celebrated of Cromwell's lieutenants were doomed to an incessant rivalry.
But Cromwell was not to be thwarted. As there was no regiment for his friend, he made one. At Newcastle lay Sir Arthur Haslerig's renowned Blue-Coats, and at Berwick was Colonel Fenwick with his newly raised Northumberland regiment. The field-force which had been voted for Cromwell was complete, but in his masterful way he drew five companies from each of these regiments and made up a new one for Monk. Then he laconically informed the House what he had done, and coolly requested that the new regiment should be taken on the establishment and the two weakened garrisons recruited. Like lambs the Government consented, and so in lawless birth, a reward for service that none dared name, began the famous Coldstream Guards.
The staff-appointment which Monk held was that of acting lieutenant-general of the Ordnance. Cromwell would doubtless have preferred to see him sergeant-major-general—an appointment which in those days of amateur soldiering it was usually thought necessary to fill with a soldier of fortune—that as chief of the staff he might supply the technical shortcomings of the commander-in-chief. It was, however, already occupied byLambert, whose training as a lawyer can hardly have qualified him for the proper discharge of its complex duties. Indeed more than once, in cases of extreme difficulty, we shall see that Monk had to take over his work, and thus intensify the antipathy which marked their relations from the first.
It is impossible here to repeat the oft-told tale of the Dunbar campaign; which is the more to be regretted as Monk's share in it has never been done justice to. Cromwell had excellent reasons for not saying too much about him in despatches; and Hodgson, the other best known authority, being in Lambert's regiment, studiously keeps in the background the rival of his idolised colonel. Yet it is certain that no voice had so much weight with Cromwell as Monk's, and he was consulted at every point. Up to Dunbar, too, the lion's share of the active operations fell upon him. The artillery duels by which it was sought to goad Leslie into an engagement were under his direction, and it was he who took the castles of Colinton and Redhall during Cromwell's attempt to turn the Scotch position before Edinburgh.
During the terrible retreat on Dunbar it is hardly too much to say his consummate technical skill saved the army from destruction. More dead than alive the remnants of Cromwell's splendid force had reached Haddington. Sick, shattered, and harassed to death with incessant marching through the rain and mire, they seemed now an easy prey. About midnight an attack on the rear-guard had been repulsed, but the position was none the less desperate. Leslie was at their heels bent on destroying them before they could reach their ships. He was out-marching them to the right on a line parallelto their own, and it was certain that with the first glimpse of daylight he would be upon them. Yet it seemed impossible to do anything. A Scotch mist was driving across them and the darkness was absolutely impenetrable. As they stood in the ranks the soldiers could hardly see their right and left hand files. Yet Monk undertook to draw the army up in line of battle fronting to its true right. It was Lambert's duty as major-general; and it must have been a rough blow to his vanity that his rival was not only allowed to undertake a task for which his own experience was inadequate, but that he succeeded in what seemed an impossibility. For succeed he did. By feeling or instinct he set about the work, of which we can now have little conception. Complicated mathematical calculations were involved; foot had to be mingled with horse, and pikemen with musketeers. But all this was child's play to Monk. The dismal morning broke, and there Leslie saw facing him a line of battle, perfect in every distance and resting on Gladsmuir and Haddington, with a swollen tributary of the Tyne to protect its front. Without hesitation the Scotch general declined the action, and hurried on to secure Cockburnspath and cut off Cromwell from Berwick.
We must pass on to the evening of September 2nd. In Dunbar the spiritless supper at the headquarters' mess was over and Cromwell was walking with Lambert hoping against hope for a chance of escape. But the position was unchanged. There was still the swollen Brock roaring along its impassable channel in heavy spate from the right to where it joined the sea on the extreme left: there was the narrow stretch ofmeadow beyond; and then the hills, where dimly in the gathering gloom the Scottish host lay out and penned them in past hope. Suddenly there was a movement. The Scotch were beginning to draw down from the hills, the horse on their right flank were taking ground towards the sea. It was clear Leslie meant to attack on the morrow where on the English left the Berwick road crossed the Brock. The manœuvre was difficult. In the narrow piece of level ground that was available between the hills and the burn it would take long to execute, and until it was complete the right flank of the Scots which had hitherto been secure in the difficult ground about Cockburnspath was exposed. Leslie must be attacked when his movement was half-done. It was a desperate chance, but the only one against his overwhelming numbers.
Lambert agreed with Cromwell's suggestion, but the General would not decide without Monk's opinion. He was probably busy superintending the embarkation of his heavy guns, but he was quickly found and received the idea favourably. All depended on the success of the first attack. The ford must be seized before Leslie was ready to cross, and then the Scotch line as it lay between the hills and the burn taking ground to the right might be rolled up like a scroll. There must be no thought of repulse; he offered to lead the foot in person, and again he was given the post that Lambert as major-general ought to have filled.
The Council of War was assembled at once, and Monk demonstrated to the colonels the practicability of Cromwell's idea. The attack was decided on, and the first glimmer of dawn saw Monk standing beside the burn, half-pike in hand, at the head of his regimentoffoot.6All was ready to begin, but Lambert, who was to lead the attack at the head of the horse, was away, to Cromwell's annoyance, worrying about Monk's guns with which he had suggested a feint should be made upon the Scots' left. Valuable time was lost, but at last he came, and the horse dashed across the ford followed by Monk in support. A desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. For an hour the thing hung in a balance. The flower of the Scotch regiments was there, and the resistance they offered was worthy of their reputation. But regiment after regiment poured over from the Dunbar side, ever inclining to the left till the Scotch right was overlapped. All this time Monk was fighting desperately at pike's length with a regiment that would not break. But now as the rout of the out-flanked regiments exposed it to the horse it had to go with the rest, and then the day was won. Galled by the guns and small-shot from across the swollen burn, the Scots' left and centre, incapable of reaching their enemy, would stand no longer. As the beaten right fell back upon them, rolling up the line asthey came, a panic ensued. Throwing down their arms they fairly ran, nor stopped till they reached Edinburgh.
The fall of Edinburgh Castle ended the campaign of 1650. Monk had been appointed governor of the city, and with the duties of his office and the preparations for the next campaign he was occupied during the winter. By February, however, in the following year, he was at active work again. Tantallon Castle was his first care, and by the aid of the splendid siege-train he had organised he battered the ancient stronghold of the Douglas into submission in forty-eight hours: Blackness Castle on the Forth followed in March; and thus by the time spring had fairly begun the way was cleared for the real object of the campaign, and Monk's services were rewarded with the substantive rank in which he had been acting.
Leslie during the winter had reorganised his army, and was occupying an intrenched position at Torwood, to the north of Falkirk, covering Stirling. Beyond him the government was being carried on in security at Perth. The Torwood position was far too strong for a direct attack to be risked. Every endeavour to turn it or to tempt Leslie to leave failed, and yet it was imperative that he should be dislodged.
Who suggested the daring manœuvre by which the end was at last achieved we do not know. At this time Monk was higher in his commander's counsels than ever. Brilliant tactician as he was, Cromwell had hitherto given little evidence of far-sighted strategy. He was not a trained soldier, and Lambert was only a talented civilian like himself. Deane had had no scientific training in the continental school, nor did he jointhe army till May. Indeed Monk was the only professional soldier on the staff at the time the manœuvre was projected. But if Cromwell was no professional soldier he had the military instinct too highly developed not to know his own shortcomings, and to appreciate at its full value the consummate technical knowledge of his new adviser. The few words that fell blunt and sure from the taciturn soldier of fortune had more weight in the Council of War than all the rest together. At any rate we may be sure the movement was the result of Cromwell's and Monk's reconnaissance of Leslie's position at Stirling in September, and that it was worked out by Monk on his return to Edinburgh. For in November a requisition went up to the Council of State for the flotilla of flat-bottomed boats which the contemplated operation required.
It was known at the English headquarters that there was a party about the King who were urging an advance into England. The plan had much to recommend it, and Cromwell determined to spoil it by forcing Leslie's hand. A footing was to be secured upon the opposite side of the Forth, and a blow threatened upon Perth. If Leslie attempted to quit his intrenchments to parry it he was to be attacked in his true front, and compelled to reoccupy his position. The English army was then to be thrown suddenly across the Forth, and a dash on Perth developed before he could move again. Thus the Torwood position would be turned, Stirling taken in reverse, and no way would remain of loosing Cromwell's new hold except to attack him on his own ground, or by advancing into England to compel him to follow. In either case the victory was almost a certainty for the Commonwealth.
As early as the middle of April part of the flotilla had arrived, and Monk had made an attack on Burntisland. He was repulsed. Cromwell's illness delayed further operations for some time. At the end of June he recovered. Major-General Harrison was sent with all the force that could be spared into Cumberland to check the expected inroad of the Scots, and Cromwell advanced to threaten the position at Torwood. Early in July he moved westward to Glasgow with the double object of securing the affections of the people in that quarter and of drawing Leslie's attention away from the Forth, while the preparations for the descent on the north bank of the river were completed. On July 17th a small party landed at North Ferry, rapidly intrenched themselves, and Lambert followed with a strong division. Cromwell had moved back to his old position before Torwood, and as though a direct attack were still his real object, Monk was ordered to storm an outpost.
All was now ripe, and at the end of July the long contemplated operation was commenced. In the precision with which it was carried out we may at least see Monk's unerring hand. The success was complete. By August 3rd Perth was in the possession of the Commonwealth. Leslie was in full career for the south, and Cromwell and his generals repassing the Forth in hot pursuit.
Yet some one must be left behind. The centre of interest had suddenly shifted, but work in plenty remained. Some one must be left in the post of peril to play Cromwell's part while he was gone; some one who knew how to strike sharp and hard, and could fix a grip of iron on the country before the army that wasgathering in the Highlands could replace the one that was gone. Monk was the man, and well he justified the choice.
The force at his command consisted of but four regiments of horse and three of foot, in all less than six thousand men. With this he attacked Stirling, and on the 16th the maiden castle surrendered. For this service he received the thanks of Parliament, and was voted £500 a year in Scotch land for ever.
But the work was only commenced. By the capture of Stirling he had but secured an advanced base from which to operate against the north. The Committee of Estates, to which Charles had entrusted the kingdom before he left, was sitting at Dundee, and organising, in concert with a number of clan-chieftains, a new army for the King. Dundee then was Monk's real objective. No sooner was Stirling in his hands than he hurried forward a small flying column to stop the supplies of the town. Three or four days were spent in disposing of prisoners and booty at Stirling and in setting things in order there, for the most precise strategist of to-day could not be more careful about his base than Monk. Then the general followed with the bulk of the foot and the siege-train.
Just before reaching Dundee he was joined by a body of cavalry under two officers, who were destined to play a prominent part in history. The horse were commanded by Colonel Alured, a daring cavalry leader with red-hot political opinions of an advanced socialistic type, an Anabaptist of the Anabaptists. At the head of the dragoons rode a little fiery man, whom they all adored. It was the famous Colonel Morgan, a soldier of fortune after Monk's own heart, who knew nothing of politicsand everything of his profession. They had probably served together the greater part of their lives, and were now at any rate fast friends with unbounded mutual admiration. There was no one to whom Monk would rather commit a piece of difficult work than this little dragoon, and he had arrived in the nick of time.
For Monk, as we have seen, with his advanced ideas of the military art, the Intelligence Department was his chiefest care. "The eyes of an army," to use his own expression, he cherished as his own. Spies as usual had been busy, and now he learned that on his approach the Government had retired to the Highlands and was sitting at Alyth, fourteen miles away, at the edge of the hills, where a force was daily expected to assemble for the relief of Dundee. Monk at once determined on a surprise so daring that it savours more of romance than the deliberate expedient of a wary strategist. Morgan was sent for, and he and Alured were told to take their men, disguised as far as possible and mixed with Scotch deserters, and attend the enemy's rendezvous.
Late on the night of the 27th they marched, and unmolested reached Alyth in the first hours of the morning. To avoid suspicion they boldly marched to the farther side of the town, and there quietly halted as though they were a party of the expected troops. No one interfered, and about three o'clock, after a short rest, when sleep was the deepest, they suddenly broke into the astonished town. Hardly a blow was struck. Old Leslie, the commander-in-chief, was taken in his bed, and the rest of the Government shared his fate; and as Monk went forth to direct his siege-works Alured and Morgan rode into camp with three hundred noblemen, lairds, and ministersprisoners in their train. At one stroke Scotland was as it were beheaded. It was a bloodless victory, as complete almost as the "crowning mercy" at Worcester, now on the eve of being fought. "Truly," wrote Monk in his despatch to Cromwell, "it is a very great mercy which the Lord of Hosts hath been pleased to bestow upon us, observing the time and season. This is the Lord's work, and therefore He alone ought to have the praise." But he concludes by asking for Morgan's promotion. That he could so far have departed from his ordinary style only shows us how great had been the influence of Cromwell's coercive personality upon him.
Still Dundee did not know the extent of the disaster. The garrison could not believe that all hope of relief was at an end, and contemptuously refused Monk's summons. On the third day the batteries opened. All through the last night of August they thundered, and in the morning there was a practicable breach. Monk knew well the garrison was hopelessly demoralised and would be an easy prey, yet he strove to save bloodshed. Twice again he offered them quarter, and twice again they refused. Then at last he gave the word for an assault.
The infantry were very weak from sickness, and the storming parties were strengthened by dismounted troopers and a naval brigade. These elements were not likely to decrease the heat of the fight, and added to this the town was known to contain property of immense value. With incredible fury the breach was carried in one rush. The supports of horse were through almost as soon as the footmen, and a desperate struggle ensued in the streets. In a few minutes it was over and the stormers rushed on wildly through the town hackingdown everything in their way. A number of women, and even some children who were in the streets, were borne down in the rush. Soon all that resisted were a party who with the governor had taken refuge in a tower. Preparations were being made to smoke them out, when they asked and received quarter. Unhappily, as the governor was being taken before Monk he was pistolled by a fanatic officer, an outrage which the general seems to have felt as a blot on his own untarnished reputation as a soldier. Resistance was now at an end, but Monk seems to have thought it his duty to give over the town to two days' pillage as a chastisement for its obstinate refusal of quarter.
The remaining garrisons surrendered on terms in rapid succession, and the Highland strongholds were one after another reduced by his officers. He himself took no active part in the operations. The iron constitution on which he drew so recklessly during his long campaigns at length gave way, and a few days after the surrender he was laid up in Dundee with a fever. By January he had sufficiently shaken it off to be able to meet the new Scotch commissioners who had arrived at Dalkeith from London to negotiate the Union, but in February he was compelled to go south for the benefit of his health. It is worthy of note that he started on the journey in the same coach with Lambert, who was also on the commission, but before Berwick was passed they agreed to separate, ostensibly because Monk was too ill to travel fast enough for his rival.
It is said that at this time there was an idea of sending into France ten thousand of those matchless troops of whom all Europe was talking, as was afterwards doneunder Morgan. For Monk was reserved the superlative honour of commanding them. But the time was not yet ripe, and instead of figuring as leader of the finest soldiers in the world, for so every one then considered them, Monk went quietly down to Bath to mend his shattered health.
The waters at Bath completely restored Monk's health, and in July the Council requested Cromwell to order him back to his duty in Scotland, that he might report on the state of the country. Monk did not go.
A new act in the drama had begun. With Dunbar, Worcester, and Monk's successes in Scotland, the Presbyterian party was reduced to impotency. The Independents were triumphant, and the factors of which that party was composed began to detach themselves with ominous distinctness. On the one hand was the Parliament, reactionary in spite of its purging; on the other the army, radical in spite of its leader. For the purpose of understanding Monk's relation to them it is unnecessary to enter minutely into the characteristics of both factions. To place ourselves in sympathy with a political situation it is necessary not so much to understand the aims of the several parties which create it, as to grasp the motives which each party attributes to the other. The great body of politicians are moved more by distrust of their adversaries than by confidence in themselves. Monk at any rate, with his soldierly contempt for politics, was incapable of taking a higher view of the situationthan this. Parliament credited the army with a desire to establish an arbitrary military government. The army suspected Parliament of an intention to perpetuate itself as a tyrannical oligarchy. The latter idea Monk could endure, the former was for him intolerable. If it came to a question of army or Parliament, Cromwell knew that his incorruptible lieutenant would be obstinately true to his principles and side with the civil power. It is easy to understand that on the eve of his great stroke he preferred that his devoted partisan, Major-General Deane, who was acting in Monk's absence, should continue to command the army in Scotland.
The outbreak of the Dutch war was made an excuse for keeping the general in England. In view of the coming struggle it was considered advisable to make Great Yarmouth a formidable naval port. Monk was the highest authority on fortification in the service, and the Council had to consent to his being employed to carry out the necessary work. In this congenial occupation he remained until November. It was then in contemplation to appoint two admirals to command the fleet jointly with Blake, according to the usual practice. Deane, having a considerable naval reputation, was naturally one, and he was summoned from Scotland, where Colonel Lilburne, an advanced radical of Anabaptist opinions, succeeded him. Monk was proposed as the other, but again Cromwell opposed the appointment. He saw the coming crisis almost within measurable distance, and naturally wished to see the fleet as well as the army in the right hands. But this time his opposition was in vain. On the last day of the month Blake was defeated by a greatly superior forceunder Tromp. The Thames was in danger, and four days later Monk and Deane were ordered to be ready to put to sea in twenty-four hours.
Tromp's victory was, however, too dearly bought for him to pursue Blake, and after his famous cruise in the Channel, as the broom-myth tells, he bore away to Rhé to fetch home the Dutch merchant-fleet that was to assemble there for convoy. All the winter the three generals were busy fitting out a new fleet, and in February they put to sea to intercept Tromp and his costly charge. On the 18th they met, and there ensued one of those extraordinary engagements which distinguished these wars. For three days it lasted, and at the end both sides claimed the victory. Tromp practically saved his huge convoy, while Blake and his partners defeated the Dutch fleet.
Monk's share in the engagements had been comparatively small, as his flagship was a hopelessly slow sailer. Out of his love for heavy artillery he had probably over-gunned it—a common error in the English navy then. At the age of forty-four it is not easy to suddenly take up a new profession, and he made no pretence to seamanship. His complete ignorance of nautical matters became a standing joke. When his ship was coming into action, and the master cried larboard or starboard, Monk used to reply with a cheery shout of "Ay, ay, boys, let us board them!" and he never heard the last of it. When at nightfall on the first day he at length got into action he refused to retire, though his master urgently showed him the danger he ran from fire-ships. "Why," he cried, "the very powder of this ship is enough to blow a fire-ship from it. Charge again!" andaway he went through the opposing squadron once more regardless of every protest. Blake had borne the brunt of the action, and had been so severely wounded by an iron splinter that he had to withdraw from active service and leave the command to his two colleagues.
For the next two months Monk was at Portsmouth busily refitting the fleet and crying out continually for supplies and men that would not come, and doing his best to alleviate the sufferings caused by the late battle. No wonder there were vexatious delays when we think what was going on at Whitehall. On April 21st the fleet lay at Spithead all ready for sea except for the delayed stores, when a despatch with strange news was put into the admiral's hands. The blow had fallen: the Revolution was complete: the Rump Parliament was no more. A new Council was sitting at Whitehall, and Cromwell was virtually dictator. What did the fleet mean to do?
In the quiet dignity of the answer we can see little of Deane's partisanship. Monk's honest indignation glows from between the lines. The whole proceeding was detestable to him; but staring him in the face was the one thing that ever raised him from his narrow views of duty, and that was the danger of his country. In spite of its insularity there was a genuineness about his patriotism that even won the admiration of his traducers. He made his choice, and took care that the answer which went back should show the reason why. It told in simple language, without a word of approval, how they had very seriously considered the news, and had finally resolved that as the nation had entrusted them with its defence it was their duty to defend it.In striking contrast was the enthusiastic answer that came back from Lilburne's army in the north. Years afterwards, in a similar crisis, Monk's acquiescence was thrown in his teeth. "I shall answer you that," he wrote. "It was never in my conscience to go out of God's way under the pretence of doing God's work; and you know the variety of times doth much vary the nature of affairs, and what might then patiently be submitted unto, we being engaged with a foreign enemy in a bloody war, cannot be drawn into a precedent at this time after our repentance."
Loyally Monk went on to discharge his country's trust. At the end of April, despairing of their proper equipment, the two generals put to sea and joined Vice-Admiral Penn off Arundel. Together they sailed to the Scotch coast with a fleet of about a hundred sail, and till the end of May cruised in the North Sea from Aberdeen to Yarmouth watching for Tromp and waiting for Blake's squadron to join. On the30th7the Dutch, slightly outnumbering them, were sighted, and three days later, early in the morning, the two fleets met.
Monk and Deane were together on board theResolution, and seem to have attacked line ahead. The wind was light and variable from north-north-west to north-east, and the port division under Lawson, Jordan, and Goodson came into action some time before the rest. The three flagships pierced the line of De Ruyter's division, but as their squadron refused to follow, and Tromp bore down with his whole division to De Ruyter's assistance, for a time they had to engage against overwhelmingodds. Monk and Deane, seeing the danger, crowded all sail and plunged into the thick of the fight. Side by side the two generals stood upon the deck as they ranged into action. A furious broadside greeted their approach, and Deane fell at Monk's feet almost cut in two by a round shot. Horror-stricken the sailors left their duty to gather round. In a moment Monk had snatched off his cloak and hidden the shocking sight from view. Sharply he told the seamen to mind their own business, and then without moving a muscle of his face went on fighting his ship as if nothing had happened. The action, however, did not continue much longer. Wise as a serpent, though daring as a lion, the father of naval tactics did not care to fight unless by his skilful manœuvres he could secure the advantage of numbers, and about three in the afternoon, when the whole English fleet had got into action, Tromp drew off.
Monk followed, and at daybreak found himself in view of the whole Dutch fleet lying off Ostend, but a dead calm prevailed and he could not move. At sunrise he signalled all the flag-officers on board theResolutionand announced to them the irreparable loss of yesterday. By Deane's death the fleet was left in command of a man who hardly knew one end of a ship from another. But the old soldier at least could tell how to inspire confidence. He assembled the officers in council of war and asked for their guidance. "Your advice," he said, "shall be as binding on me as an Act of Parliament." It was at once resolved to engage, and that no part of the fleet might be again isolated by a repetition of yesterday's faint-heartedness, it was agreed that all the three divisions should attack simultaneously and endeavour tobreak up the enemy's line by piercing it in three places.
At noon the wished-for breeze sprang up and a tremendous engagement ensued. The captains who had disgraced themselves, fired by a stirring general order from Monk, vied with the rest to retrieve their reputation, and to such good purpose that the Dutch would not stand by their admiral. In spite of Tromp's signals and angry shots seventy of his ships sailed out of the fight. Thus deserted he was compelled to follow. All day the two fleets stood to the southward close-hauled on a south-westerly breeze, and kept up a hot running fight. About four in the afternoon the wind freshened to a gale, veering to west-south-west, and Monk was able to loose his frigates into the midst of the enemy to reap the harvest of cripples he had put at their mercy. As evening fell Blake's long-expected squadron appeared in the offing, and the Dutch sought refuge towards their own coasts, where at ten o'clock darkness and the shoals stopped further pursuit.
Such was the famous Flanders Battle, the first in which Monk really commanded. The Dutch lost thirty-four ships and for the time were driven from the sea. So well had the English come out of it that without putting in to refit they were able to follow up the victory by a descent upon Cadsand, where a vast quantity of stores were captured or destroyed.
For the next two months, as closely as the weather would allow, the two English admirals blockaded the Dutch coast. Behind their shoals the States were fitting out two fleets. In the Weelings about Flushing was Tromp, at the back of Texel was De Witt; and as Blakewas again taken so ill that in July he had to go ashore, on Monk devolved the anxious task of keeping the two consummate Dutch seamen from uniting.
By the end of the month the enemy were ready for sea and Monk was rigorously blockading De Witt at Texel. Early on the 28th a heavy south-westerly gale compelled him to stand out to sea and beat against it all day. At daylight next morning, having recovered sufficient sea-room to be out of danger, he stood away to the south under easy sail, to intercept Tromp whom he expected out. True enough all the previous day the Dutchman had been stealing up the coast to feel for De Witt. About noon on the 29th the two fleets sighted each other. At the same moment the wind shifted to north-north-west and gave Monk the weather-gauge.
Tromp immediately went about. Having lost the wind all he cared to do was to try and draw the English off the Texel. Monk crowded all sail in pursuit, and managed late in the evening to force his enemy into a desultory engagement off Egmont, to which darkness quickly put an end.
All night in thick and heavy weather the chase continued to the southward, but Tromp was too clever for the soldier. In the darkness he doubled back north-north-east, and thus not only recovered the weather-gauge, but in the afternoon managed to join with De Witt, who had slipped out of the Texel as soon as Monk's back was turned.
During the whole of the 30th a tremendous gale was blowing dead on shore. Both fleets attempted to engage, but each time were prevented by the heavy weather. In the morning it cleared. Monk found himself close tothe Dutch coast with the enemy to windward. Unwilling to engage where Tromp would have the advantage of his knowledge of the shoals, with harbours of refuge within easy reach, he stood out to sea, and the Dutch gave chase. They had one hundred and forty sail fresh from the yards, while Monk had but ninety storm-beaten ships, with crews sadly thinned and weakened by scurvy, nor had he a single fire-ship to oppose to those of the enemy. But dangers could never daunt the general. As soon as he had recovered sufficient sea-room began "the most fierce and cruel fight that ever was fought." It was already the sixth action of the war, and Monk meant it to be the last. He ordered that no prizes should be taken or quarter given. "The air," says the old historian, "was quickly filled with scattered limbs of men blown up: the sea was dyed with blood."
It was "a very orderly battle" (according to one of the English flag-officers), in which the old soldier strove with extraordinary skill to win back the weather-gauge from the greatest seaman of the day. The two fleets were standing out to sea, line ahead on parallel courses and a southerly wind, when the action began by Monk suddenly tacking on Tromp with the intention of breaking his line. Tromp tacked also to parry the attack, but though he was clever enough to keep the wind with nearly the whole of his fleet, a few of his ships were cut off and put to flight. Then followed three determined encounters, in which each fleet tacked on the other, passing each time closer and closer in the desperate struggle for the weather-gauge. Every time Monk disabled some of the Dutch, and every time he pierced their line and scattered the part he weathered. StillTromp kept the advantage with the bulk of his force; but it was at a fearful sacrifice. In the last encounter the ships had fought almost at pike's length. Again and again two of the Dutch admirals had tried to board theResolution, and again and again they had recoiled before the storm of metal that roared from beneath the exultant soldier's feet. Old hands were awestruck at the fury of the fight. "The very heavens," says one, "were obscured with smoke; the air rent with the thundering noise; the sea all in a breach with the shot that fell; the ships even trembling, and we hearing everywhere the messengers of death flying about."
Since sunrise the fight had raged. It was now past two o'clock in the afternoon. Yet again the undaunted soldier of fortune charged; but the Dutch had had their fill. Their splendid fleet had suffered terribly. Tromp's flag had been shot away, and he himself was gasping out his heroic life pierced with a musket ball. Of nine flagships only two were to be seen with the main body. Vice-Admiral Eversen was sinking, and scattered over the waters were burning hulks and the wrecks of captures blown up. As Monk tacked the Dutch spread their crippled wings and ran for Holland. Monk limped after them till evening, burning, sinking, and destroying. Over a hundred sail they had stood out proudly, as the sun rose, in pursuit of the English fleet, "but they were very thin when the sun went down."
As Gravesand steeple rose in sight and the Dutch saw their shoals within reach, Monk gave up the chase. The victory, complete as it was, had not been lightly won, and all that night and the following day his triumphant consorts staggered back to Southwold Bay.The carnage had been fearful. Eight of Monk's captains lay dead, and eight more were wounded, though he, with his usual luck, had never a scratch. Killed and wounded amounted to over a thousand. The Dutch had lost at least three times as many. Hardly a single English ship was missing. About thirty Dutch were sunk or taken, and barely half the fleet were together at thelast.8
The war was practically at an end. Though the intrepid Dutch were soon as busy refitting as Monk himself, every one knew a decisive action had been fought. A public thanksgiving was ordered, and honours were showered on Monk and poor Blake and their officers. Next to Cromwell the soldier of fortune was now the greatest man in the land. Yet, in spite of his greatness, and in spite of the ardour with which he threw himself into the work of refitting the fleet, he found time and conscience to do a little act of humble duty before he put to sea again.
In the midst of the shouts of triumph was a voice that he loved, perhaps, as well as all his golden chains and medals, whispering that a child was to be born to him, and born in sin. Ratsford was dead. So quietly in the midst of his pressing work he snatched an hour to repair as far as could be the wrong he had done. Like an honest man, he took the perfumer's widow to St. George's Church in Southwark, and there he made her his wife.
During the remainder of this year and the beginningof the next Monk was busily engaged in maintaining the blockade of the Dutch coast, and attending to the routine business of his place at Whitehall and Chatham. Indeed he had little time for anything else. In June, while he was in search of Tromp's fleet, he had been called by the Protector to the Little Parliament, but his legislative duties sat lightly upon him. No doubt he was reconciled to the new form of government by the express declaration of the Council, which almost seems to have been put in for his especial benefit, that the sword ought to have no share in the civil power. Still he appears to have attended the sittings but seldom. Once only are we sure he was there, and that was to receive the thanks of Parliament. His visionary colleagues were for him contemptible. The war and his magnificent new flagship, theSwiftsure, were much more to his mind, and he can only have rejoiced when he saw the power of Parliament suddenly surrendered into Cromwell's hands.
The new rule had his entire approval. A single person, as we have seen, was his ideal of government, and especially when that single person was one well able to apply the "principal and able remedy against civil wars." The crisis had resolved itself into a situation after his own heart. In the despotic Protector he saw a warlike prince; in the Dutch war a physic for him to minister to his country's disease. But he was doomed to disappointment. The Protector's statecraft was less crude than his lieutenant's, and in spite of Monk's energetic and even angry protests peace on comparatively easy terms was signed with Holland on April 5th, 1654.
Cromwell had now other work for his most trusted officer. General Middleton had landed in Scotland to fan the flame which Lord Glencairn had kindled for the King, and which Morgan had nearly smothered. The Highlands were in a blaze, the Lowlands were seething in the heat, and Lilburne showed himself incapable of coping with the growing danger in spite of the fiery little dragoon's assistance.
Since February the rising had been getting every day more serious, and still no one was sent to supersede Lilburne. Cromwell at the outset of his reign felt the Scotch command was the most critical appointment he had to make. Not only was Scotland the chief field of Royalist action, but the Parliamentary army there was ultra-Independent, and sullenly disgusted to see a monarchy practically re-established. A man must go who could crush the Royalists speedily, and, which was still more important, who could be trusted with a victorious army of Irreconcilables afterwards. There was absolutely no one who fulfilled the conditions but Monk. In December it had been settled that he was to go, but till the Dutch war was over he could not be spared by theAdmiralty. Day by day the news from the north grew worse, and still the Dutch struggled in Cromwell's grip to avoid the article for the seclusion of the Stuarts. At last it was done, and on April 6th, the very day after the treaty was signed, Monk got his route for Scotland with the fullest powers.
A fortnight later he reached Dalkeith, and at once threw himself into the preliminary organisation of that forgotten campaign in which, if ever, the Highlands were for the first time conquered.
It is a campaign of the highest interest, and well repays the laborious task of piecing it together from the obscure and confused notices that are extant. Hitherto Highland warfare had been little more than aimless hunts after an ever-shifting and disappearing objective. For the first time the rules of modern strategy were to be applied to it. The latest model for mountain warfare was the Duc de Rohan's brilliant Valtelline campaign of 1635. It was the admiration of all Europe, and has even been considered worthy of a commentary by the Archduke Charles himself. Two such professed soldiers as Monk and Middleton must have been perfectly familiar with it. Monk at least had studied the duke'sPerfect Captainewith an enthusiasm which his ownObservationstoo plainly betrays; and the scientific way in which he now went to work shows that he either invented or had learnt a thoroughly digested system.
His general idea was to out the Highlands asunder along the line of what is now the Caledonian Canal, and to fix his enemy within one of two definite areas, where he could operate against him as he chose. The area to the north of the line was sufficiently determined by itsgeographical conformation, but that to the south had to be firmly marked by strategical positions. Already a chain of fortresses and strong posts stretching from Inverness through Stirling to Ayr shut it in on the south and east, and during the next two months, while Monk was waiting for the grass to grow sufficiently for him to be able to move his cavalry, the investment was completed. On the west, from Glencoe to the head of Loch Lomond, diplomacy secured Argyle's country in a state of armed neutrality, and at each of the four salient angles of the area was established an independent base. One was at Inverness, one at Perth, and a third at Kilsyth, between Stirling and Glasgow, with Leith for its supporting base. The fourth by a bold stroke was to be planted in the heart of the enemy's country at Lochaber, with supporting bases at Liverpool and Ayr, whereby he would complete his quadrilateral and secure the southern end of his dividing line. From these points he intended to act on double lines of operation, with two strong columns keeping light touch with one another, and each able at any moment to act in a new direction by a rapid change of base. One of them he was to lead himself, while Morgan took command of the other. Their organisation was a source of the greatest care. As he was not likely to meet horse in any numbers, Monk boldly eliminated from the foot nearly the whole of the pikes on which the steadiness of infantry was supposed to depend, and filled his ranks almost entirely with musketeers.
To the labour of laying this elaborate foundation for the campaign was added the task of reducing the army to some sense of discipline. Monk had found it badly demoralised by the incapacity of Lilburne, and thelicense which he had allowed to religious controversy. On all this he set his foot, and at the same time endeavoured to repair the mischief which the wanton insolence of the sectaries had done, by inaugurating a conciliatory policy towards the Scots—a policy, however, which he was careful to fortify by a system of strong patrols in the Lowlands.
At present there was no need to press offensive operations. Middleton was still in Sutherland, and from Dingwall Morgan was watching him, ready to fall on him if he attempted to join the Lochaber chiefs. In the middle of May Monk moved to Stirling to see that all the outlets from the hills were sufficiently secured to prevent forays in that direction. Having ordered the construction of redoubts and the staking of fords wherever necessary, he joined the first column at Kilsyth in order to more deeply mark the south-west limit of his southern area by operations in the Ben Lomond hills. First, however, an important step was taken. A column, consisting of two thousand men and furnished with all necessary materials for establishing the fourth base, was being secretly organised in Ireland to seize Inverlochy. The time was now ripe for the attempt, and Colonel Brayne was despatched to bring it over. This done, Monk commenced his work. The difficulties of the undertaking at once declared themselves. The moment he moved, Glencairn, who occupied the Ben Lomond country, began raiding in his rear and stopped him. But the veteran of the Irish wars had learnt when to be bold, and without hesitation he flew at his enemy's throat. Advancing resolutely over the Kilsyth hills and up the headwaters of the Forth into the heart ofthe Ben Lomond range, he compelled Glencairn to concentrate and occupy a strong position at Aberfoyle. Here Monk attacked him. Again and again he was repulsed. But the discipline of the "red soldier" told at last, and Glencairn had to give way. The hills were cleared, every boat on the loch destroyed, and the western boundary of the southern area completed with an impassable stretch of water from Argyle's country to the banks of the Clyde.
Meanwhile Middleton had outwitted Morgan. Breaking up his force he had slipped it piecemeal over the hills and had joined his friends in Lochaber. It was the signal for active operations. Leaving a small force to cover Glasgow, and ordering up the Border horse under Colonel Howard in support, Monk suddenly shifted on to the Perth line and plunged into the hills. He meant if possible to drive the enemy through the gap he had left into the Lowlands, where they would fall an easy prey to his horse, or, if that failed, to force them northward. Moving with startling rapidity he was soon entangled in the wildest of the enemy's mountains and morasses. It was a country which till Deane's demonstration two years ago had been considered inaccessible to Lowland troops. It swarmed with roving bands of Highlanders; every straggler was a doomed man; the horse could hardly move, and the whole work of the march was arduous beyond all experience. But bold as was Monk's project its execution was cautious in the extreme. Every step of the way he made good. The country was systematically ravaged and every castle of strategic importance captured, garrisoned, and turned into an advanced magazine, accordingto the somewhat cumbrous and pedantic system which Monk and his contemporaries were then introducing. To prevent surprise and give time for properly securing his quarters he never marched after mid-day, nor did he ever move without flanking parties and a cloud of scouts. He marked out each camp and placed every picket and sentry himself, and was, in short, the head and heart alike of his over-worked force.
Indifferent to hunger and sleep himself, he took every care of his men. He doctored and dosed them with his own hand, and by his elaborate system of magazines he kept them well supplied with biscuits and cheese. At the same time he took care his officers should not grumble. When the day's work was done it was his wont to unbend in frankest good fellowship. Then while his canteen was unpacked it was his delight to sit on the grass beside it and pitch joints of cold meat to his officers, who gathered round. No one could bear the hardships of a campaign better than tough "old George," and no one knew better how to lighten them.
No wonder the work prospered. On June 9th Monk had started, and by the 11th he had established his first advanced magazine at the foot of Loch Tay. Here he received intelligence from Morgan, who was operating from Inverness on the line of the Spey, that Middleton had summoned a rendezvous of the clans at Loch Ness head, anticipating a move from the south. Monk at once turned northward and ordered Morgan on to the line of the lochs, with instructions to close in behind Middleton as soon as he passed over it. Brayne, he knew, had left Ireland a week ago, and between the three columns he felt sure of forcing the Royalists intoan engagement. The zeal of the impetuous Morgan spoiled the combination. So rapidly did he move that he fell in with the Royalist vanguard as it emerged from Glengarry and flung it violently back into the hills. The result was that as Monk descended the northern slopes of the Grampians Middleton retreated to Kintail. Still much had been gained. The surprise from Ireland had proved a complete success, and right and left Monk was now able to join hands with Morgan and Brayne along the line of the lochs. Middleton and his friends were thus shut within the northern area, where Monk could renew his combined operations on definite lines. Loch Ness head was now in touch with Inverness by means of a gunboat which had been dragged up into the dock. Here Morgan was established, while the general advanced up Glen Moriston to try and drive his enemy northward or into his lieutenant's arms. In the effort Monk fairly surpassed himself. The country proved more difficult every step he took: the weather was so violent that the cattle could not keep the hills; yet from glen to glen Monk and his red column chased Middleton and his Highland chivalry. Such marching astounded them. At every stride the Southron trod on their heels, and twice they had to abandon stores in order to keep out of his reach. But flesh and blood could not stand such work for long, and at the end of a week Monk retired to reprovision from Inverness, having laid waste the whole of the country from which Middleton was drawing his supplies, and set the "red cock crowing" in the home of every chief who had joined him.
Still Middleton had won the round. He had avoidedan action, and but for the new scheme of which his head was full Monk was as far from his end as ever. His new idea was to send Morgan by sea to destroy the Royalist winter-quarters in Caithness, while he himself covered Inverness. It was a stroke which Middleton would clearly be compelled to parry by an offensive movement to the south or a march into Caithness. Either would suit Monk's disposition, and Morgan prepared to embark. The effect was immediate. Two days later Middleton was seen by the garrison at Blair Athol, and in two more Morgan was lying in wait at Braemar and Monk in hot pursuit over the Grampians on the Royalist track. Through the Drumouchter Pass and Badenoch his recruited column swept, and on into Athol, ravaging as it went, till Athol was as black and desert as Lochaber and Kintail. From Breadalbane the chase turned westward, and now so close did Monk dog the enemy's steps that not a levy could be held, and their forces began rapidly to shrink from exhaustion.
From Loch Tay through Glen Dochart, from Glen Lochy through Strathfillan, the pursuit continued to the head of Loch Awe. The Cavalier chiefs were resolved to force Argyle to take one side or the other, and here they had caught him in Glenorchy's castle. But the siege was not two days old when Monk was upon them and raised it. Foiled in their great scheme on Argyle they doubled back into Perthshire, but still there was no rest. While he ravaged Glenorchy and Glenstrea Monk detached a brigade to keep them moving, and Middleton began to see the end was near. What his enemy's activity left undone the wrangling of his friends was completing, and harassed past bearing with theirbickerings and jealousies, he resolved to return to the north. Monk knew his intention, as he knew everything; and Morgan was rapidly shifted to the headwaters of the Spey, with orders to feel his way through Badenoch and the Drumouchter Pass on the look-out for Middleton, towards Loch Rannoch, while down Glen Lyon the general pushed him blindly to his fate. To avoid him, as Monk expected, Middleton struggled over the hills into Glen Rannoch, and thence, persuaded by false intelligence that the two English generals were together, made a rapid move up the Perthshire Glengarry for the Drumouchter Pass. Beside the little Loch at its foot was a hamlet, where he intended to halt for the night. Weary and half starved his vanguard reached the spot towards evening, but only to be received with a volley from Morgan's pickets. Descending the pass that very day on his way to Glen Rannoch, the little dragoon had occupied the identical quarters Middleton had intended for himself. The surprise was complete. Morgan was expecting Middleton, though not quite so soon. Middleton was only looking behind him where he believed Morgan to be with Monk. The smart dragoon, always prepared for anything, immediately hurled his fresh and well-armed troops upon the weary Scots as they lay helpless between the Loch and the hills, and scattered them to the four winds.
To rally them in the face of Monk's forces proved impossible. Middleton fled to Caithness, whither Morgan pursued him, while Monk occupied himself with Athol and Glencairn. Driving them before him towards the trap he had so cleverly prepared in the Ben Lomond hills, he compelled them to disband and leave him tocomplete his work. Then one after another he destroyed their winter-quarters in the remote fastnesses about the loch which Rob Roy was to make so famous, and which had been hitherto considered entirely inaccessible to Southrons. By the end of August the work was done, and the general was able to return to Dalkeith. The back of the insurrection was broken. The Highlands were bound in chains of fortified posts. The garrisons gave those who stirred not a moment's peace. Unable to combine, unable even to feed their followers, one after another the chiefs came in, till at last the Highlands were so quiet that there was hardly a man left with heart to lift a cow, and he who would find a stray, it used to be said, need only send a crier round.
To enter into the details of Monk's subsequent administration is impossible here. Indeed it hardly belongs to his career as a man of action. The art of governing a conquered country he had always held to be part of a soldier's education, and he now applied to his province the principles which he had long ago laid down during his solitude in the Tower. The most important thing he considered to assure the conquest of a free people was to take away the desire of revolting, "and to do this," he wrote, "you must not take away their hopes of recovering their liberties by their good obedience, ... and therefore you must always begin in a fair way." And well he did it. On easy terms the chiefs were admitted to make their peace, and security for good behaviour was taken from them. Every facility was afforded them of entering foreign services, and those who remained at home were disarmed."Assist the weak inhabitants," he said, "and weaken the mighty." Never perhaps in the history of Scotland had the weak been so strong. They began to look on the soldiers under Monk's strict discipline as the best friends they had. The feuds and brigandage which had so long distracted the country became entirely unknown. Trade began to revive: taxes came in plentifully; and Monk began to lay the foundation of the rich public treasure without which he considered no Government was safe.
There being a difficulty about engaging the people in a foreign war, Monk encouraged the Cavalier chiefs to raise troops for service as mercenaries abroad. But the King was shrewd enough to privately forbid it, and Monk had to fall back upon his other rules for the prevention of civil strife. The first was the perfection of the fortresses, the other the attainment so far as possible of uniformity of religion. The restrictions which Lilburne had placed upon the Presbyterians were gradually removed, and the Kirkmen encouraged at the expense of the sectaries. But while he gave them complete religious freedom, he was careful to strip the clergy of all temporal power by forbidding them the use of excommunication and by suspending the assemblies of the Kirk.
From Dalkeith Monk governed the country in peace, attending to almost every detail himself. At first it is true that occasional plots disturbed his serenity, but his method of dealing with conspirators was as successful as it was original. It is, moreover, replete with a grim humour which gives us a new insight into his character. Such chiefs as fell under suspicion werearrested and placed under rigorous confinement. In noisome dungeons they were visited by Monk's roughest officers, and sometimes by the terrible general himself. There they were urged to confess, and even threatened with the torture. Those who yielded were at once released with a caution and never troubled again. Those who held out firmly were asked to dinner at Dalkeith, where the sound sense and excellent claret of their good-natured host soon brought them to reason. By this happy treatment the shrewd general found out at once whom he could safely ignore and who were dangerous. The first he knew he had frightened into good behaviour; of the others he made friends.
Most notable of these was young Cameron of Lochiel, the Ulysses of the Highlands, the wolf-slayer, the man who had saved his life by tearing out the throat of one of Brayne's soldiers with his teeth. Evan Dhu was, in fact, the ideal hero of the clansmen, and though his action had been paralysed by the Inverlochy garrison, he had been the most dangerous and indefatigable figure in the late rising. He had been almost the last to come in, but from the day of his surrender the idol of the clans became Monk's devoted personal friend. These two men, so utterly different and yet in much so alike, seem to have conceived for each other an unbounded admiration. Monk gave the Prince of Robbers, as Charles the Second used to call him, a share in the administration of Lochaber, and supported him in his law-feuds, while at the crisis of Monk's career Lochiel attached himself to his staff and rode with him to London.
There was but one event which seriously broke the harmony of the tranquil life at Dalkeith, and that wasthe widespread Republican conspiracy of 1654. As Cromwell's most trusted officer Monk was one of its principal objects. In Morgan's absence the appointment of major-general on the governor's staff was held by Milton's friend, sweet-mannered Colonel Overton. The general shared the poet's high opinion of his honour, and had persuaded the Protector that his politics, radical as they were, would never make him forget his duty. This man accepted the management of the plot in Scotland. The idea was to assassinate Monk, seize the Government, and march with the Scotch army to the support of the English Republicans. To this end the army was widely tampered with, and as a matter of course the proceedings of the conspirators came to the vigilant general's ears. Quietly he allowed the plot to mature as if he suspected nothing, and then on the eve of its execution suddenly changed his guards, pounced upon the conspirators, and sent them all up to London under arrest.
"I am convinced," he wrote to Cromwell in forwarding some papers of Overton's which he had subsequently discovered, "if your Highness do but weigh the letters well, you will find Colonel Overton had a design to promote the Scots king's business." Whatever was the part which the Cavaliers played in the plot, these letters certainly contain no evidence of their complicity. But Monk would believe anything of a soldier who had been false to his colours, and his comment is amusingly characteristic. It would seem that he had so little troubled himself with politics as to have entirely failed to grasp the situation. At this time he had probably got little beyond the originalquestion of Parliament and King. Of the endless factions into which his own party was splitting he appears to have had but little understanding, except in so far as they led to insubordination in the army. Against a Royalist enemy he had been sent to Scotland, and he saw a Royalist enemy at the bottom of every trouble.
Indeed it was at this time that he seems to have been first getting into that nervous and irritable state with regard to the King and his affairs from which he was never safe till Charles was on his throne. He was perfectly contented where he was. As the military governor of a conquered kingdom, he had reached the highest ambition of a soldier of fortune. He was now getting on for fifty, and desired nothing so much as to quietly enjoy his position with his wife and children, to whom he was devoted. Indeed, the death of George, the baby, about this time seems to have upset him more than all the difficulties of his office together. But his friends would not leave him in peace.
Eager to propitiate the Scots, he kept open house at Dalkeith, and through the influence of the Countess of Buccleuch the nobility began to accept his hospitality. They soon came to have a liking for the kindly general. He received them indeed so cordially, and seemed so anxious to be on good terms with them, that there is no doubt some of them began to see in the simple-minded soldier a possible instrument for the revival of their party. Early in November, 1655, he had intercepted two autograph letters from the king, one addressed to "2," whom he knew to be Lord Glencairn; the other to "T," a cypher he did not understand. The letter, however,was of a highly compromising nature. "T" was told that the King was assured of his affection, and he was encouraged to be ready when the time was ripe. According to his usual practice Monk took copies of both the letters and allowed them to proceed to their destination. The copies he forwarded at once to Cromwell, assuring him that he would soon know to whom the "T" letter was delivered, and be able to deal with him as he deserved. To his intense annoyance it was delivered to himself. Cromwell seems to have thoroughly enjoyed the joke, but Monk was furious, and vented his anger by arresting Glencairn, whom he evidently suspected of being at the bottom of it.
Yet in spite of all he could do the Cavaliers chose to believe that he was a king's man at heart, and to make him the object of their intrigues. His uneasiness was increased by his new chaplain Price, who, having obtained considerable influence over Mrs. Monk, set her on to advocate the martyr's cause. It must be confessed that the general was a little henpecked at home, and a little afraid of his wife's sharp tongue; so, like a wise man, he let her talk treason to her heart's content without reply, and told Price whenever the subject was mentioned that he had no sympathy with the cause of a man who had shown himself hopelessly incapable of governing. If the martyr had been fit to reign, he used to say, he would have taken his advice and fought the Scots in 1638.
Still they all pretended not to believe him, and his nervousness became chronic. Cromwell was only amused at his distress. He never forgot the letter to "T." The joke appealed to the Protector's peculiar sense of humour. Nearly three years later, when Monk one day returnedto Dalkeith, he found a letter had been mysteriously left with the guard. It proved apparently to be one of the same tenor as the first, and more furious than ever he sent a copy of it up to the Secretary of State. "I did not think fit to trouble his Highness with it," the general wrote, "it being, as I conceive it is, a knavish trick of some Scotchman or other.... I hope God will enable me as I make them smart for this roguery and the former report which they made of me." Of course Thurloe told Cromwell, and the Protector could not resist adding his well-known "drolling" postscript to his next despatch. "There be some that tell me," he wrote to Monk shortly before his death, "that there is a certain cunning fellow in Scotland called George Monk who is said to lie in wait there to introduce Charles Stuart; I pray you use your diligence to apprehend him and send him up to me." Clearly he was poking fun at his lieutenant. The Protector knew well enough he was to be trusted implicitly. He sent him up all his most disaffected troops, knowing that under Monk's stern discipline they would soon be brought to their senses. He gave him full powers to cashier any officer he liked. He abandoned his intention of reducing the army when Monk said it was not safe. He even left him nearly two years without a Council to watch him, and only restored it upon Monk's urgent and repeated entreaties for help in his work.
As part of their intrigues the Cavaliers industriously spread reports that Cromwell was afraid of his lieutenant. They said the Protector tried to get him out of Scotland by offering him the command of the great Jamaica expedition, and that Monk, seeing through his designs, refused. As a matter of fact Cromwell did want to seehis darling project conducted by the most able and experienced commander in his service, but reluctantly abandoned the idea in consequence of a confidential report that Scotland would not be safe out of Monk's hands. So the post was not offered him. If it had been he would certainly have accepted it. To lead such an enterprise was the dream of Monk's life. The rumour was revived in 1658 because the general did not attend Cromwell's "other House," to which he had been called. It was said that he had refused the summons, but it was untrue. The real explanation of his absence is that there were at the time signs of a Royalist descent, and he told the Protector he dared not come till some one was appointed to take his place. No one was appointed, and he remained.
In fact he was an ideal governor. Everything seemed to go smoothly, and he never bothered except now and then for money that was due. In spite of the endless questions that must have arisen every day, half his letters to the Secretary of State at this period contain apologies for having no news. A great part of the rest consist of information on purely English affairs. The hard-worked and anxious Protector knew well how priceless is such a governor, and could laugh securely at what the Cavaliers said when he knew what a bugbear to his trusty friend were Charles Stuart and all his works.
But while Cromwell laughed and Monk fumed at the Cavalier tricks we must cast a glance down into Devonshire, where a web more subtle and secret than any that had yet been tried was being spun to catch the incorruptible proconsul. Almost at the end of the world, in his rectory at Plymtree, sat Nicholas Monk. Thereall through those dangerous and unquiet times he had "possessed a sweet and comfortable privacy" after his own heart. To-day a messenger disturbed him at his books. It was a letter from cousin John asking him to come and see him. Sir John Grenville was the son of Sir Bevil by Elizabeth Monk, and nephew to George's old friend Sir Richard. He was a great man now, and an active figure in Lord Mordaunt's new group of ardent young Cavaliers who were trying to goad the old Royalists of the "Sealed Knot" out of the lethargy to which they had been reduced by fines and failures and distrust of the King and each other. A little flurried, we may be sure, the quiet parson hurried away, but found with relief it was no business of state. Only Sir John had a fat living fallen vacant, and he thought cousin Nicholas might like it. He wanted nothing for it either, only if heshouldever happen to have any business with cousin George up in Scotland perhaps Nicholas would not mind making himself useful. Certainly he would not; so in due course he finds himself in clover at his new living of Kelkhampton, and a distinct step is taken to the Restoration.
As yet Grenville knew it was useless to approach his cousin. He had taken the Protector's commission and had promised Cromwell, it was said, to support his dynasty. So when Oliver died in September, 1658, Richard was duly proclaimed at Edinburgh; but in spite of Monk's efforts it was without a note of enthusiasm. The soldiers grumbled when the ceremony was over that they had to support a man they did not know. "Old George for my money," said one with applause; "he is fitter for a Protector than Dick Cromwell!" No doubtOliver thought so too. He had told Richard always to follow Monk's advice; and one of the new Protector's first acts was to send Dr. Clarges, Monk's brother-in-law, and now Commissary-General for the Irish and Scotch armies, on a special mission to Scotland, to seek the advice and support of his father's right-hand man.
It was excellent advice that Clarges brought back. True to his simple creed, Monk told Richard he must break the political power of the army and gather round him to share in the government the natural leaders of the people. He showed him exactly how to do it, but Richard was too weak or too indolent to follow his instructions. His only idea was to offer Monk a large sum of money to support him by force. Dearly as he loved riches, Monk refused. He had pledged himself to the Cromwells, and that was enough. Richard would want all his money himself. Every day the Republican army, with Lambert and Fleetwood at its head, grew stronger, and the "new Royalists," as they called the Cromwellians, grew weaker. Before he had been eight months on the throne Richard gave up the struggle, dissolved his Parliament, and weakly identified himself with the army. The inevitable result followed. At the end of May he abdicated in favour of a military republic.
The leading officers formed themselves into a provisional government, and took immediate steps to recall the Republican remnant of the Long Parliament, which since its expulsion by Cromwell had come to be looked upon as representing the "good old cause" of the Commonwealth. It was at all events a pretence of constitutionalism, and Monk seized the excuse to sullenly acquiesce in the new order. "Had Richard not dissolvedhis Parliament," he always said, "I would have marched down to support it," and in view of his subsequent conduct there is every reason to believe he meant what he said. But Richard had pusillanimously thrown up the game before his friend could help him, and Monk was not a man to plunge his country into civil war in such a hopeless cause. And so when his kinsman Cornet Monk arrived from Ireland on a special mission from Henry Cromwell he found he was too late.
The first act of the restored "Rump" was one of the last importance. In their eagerness to get control over the army they insisted on every officer receiving his commission from themselves at the hands of the Speaker. Monk accepted a new commission with the rest, and from that moment he was as devoted a servant to Parliament as ever he had been to Cromwell; but, unlike Cromwell, the new Government committed the folly of not trusting him. The Council of State immediately set to work to fill his army with their own nominees. Monk protested, and refused to permit the new men to act without the Speaker's commission. Fortunately public business was so disturbed in London that most of these commissions never arrived.