THE ABORTIVE PRONUNCIAMENTO
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 relations with
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 widespread
conspiracy 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 trusted member 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 found necessary 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 difficulties that 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 had come 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 Nicholas was 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 impressed by 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 miserable
plight 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 the King, 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 engage in 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.