Monck had taken council from his closest advisers: Gumble and Price, Clarke and Morgan, his physician Samuel Barrow, Colonel Ralph Knight – who commanded Monck’s own Regiment of Horse – and his brother-in-law, Tom Clarges, in London. He swore those with him to secrecy as he assured them they might speak their minds, whereupon they all declared for the King, a measure of the trust they placed in Honest George. As for Monck he had said nothing, committing himself neither one way nor the other. Experience had taught Monck to be as cautious in politics as he was decisive on the battlefield, for he had been imprisoned in The Tower of London charged with High Treason, dismissed from the Army and written off long before fate had wrought the curious twists in his fortunes that had taken him from a captured Royalist Colonel to Oliver’s most trusted subordinate and mentor to his successor Richard.
Stretching out on his uncomfortable couch, Monck once again turned his own conduct over in his mind. He held his commission from what remained of the old Parliament that had originally formed the Commonwealth after the execution of King Charles; it bore William Lenthall’s signature and was endorsed by Cromwell under his assumption of the Protectorate. In all the chaos following Oliver’s death, Richard’s disastrous period of office and the aftermath of his resignation, Monck had merely continued with the business with which he was charged: the government of Scotland. True, as a Presbyterian himself, he had advised Richard to dispense with his father’s policy of religious tolerance, arguing for restoring order by forming an assembly of Godly Divines so that the country which he loved might, as he put it in a letter to the new Protector,
have Unity in things necessary, Liberty in things unnecessary, and Charity in all things, compared with the Competing of Sects and thereby put a stop to that Progress of Blasphemy and Profanity, that I fear is too frequent in Many Places by the Great Extent of Excessive Toleration.
Monck had also urged Richard to issue writs and call a new Parliament, one representative of the greater will of the people than what remained – the Rump, as it was termed – of the old Long Parliament. The members of the Rump had excluded any they suspected of harbouring Royalist sympathies, such as Monck’s agent, William Morice. Monck had advised the new Protector to reduce expenditure on the Army by amalgamating regiments and purging the officer-corps of the trouble-makers and ‘insolent spirits,’ so that no single officer had a large enough personal following to create political disturbance. Richard could then, Monck argued, draw the Army in England to himself, just as he, Monck, had done with the Army in Scotland.
Monck sighed again. Had Dick Cromwell been half the man his father was he could have achieved this, but he proved incapable, revealing his weakness by making Monck a large offer of money for his military support, an offer a disappointed Monck spurned.
‘And there are those who say I think of nothing but money,’ he grumbled to himself, resenting the calumny that his wife’s all-too-obvious greed engendered.
But while Monck had been distantly and patiently coaching Richard Cromwell, the Puritan Army in England had been taking advantage of Oliver’s weak successor. The strength of opposition to the continuance of the hated Protectorate in the person of the late Oliver’s ineffectual son roused the junior officers in the Army to such a fervour that it surprised their leaders, Sir Charles Fleetwood, James Desborough and even John Lambert. In late April these dissenting spirits made it clear to General Fleetwood that they would not support Richard’s Protectorate or his Parliament. The following day, the failure of Parliament to pass legislation due to Haselrig’s manoeuvrings led Richard to dismiss it with the consequence that, unable to rule, Dick tumbled down a month later.
Since then Monck had steered his persistently middle-course. Anxious not to provoke any schism that might precipitate yet another Civil War, he politely concurred with the Army Council’s decisions, but added the caveats that he relied upon them acting wisely to protect the just liberties of the whole people, of maintaining their good laws and rights, and of removing all oppressions and intolerable burdens ‘from off their necks’. He was also pointedly concerned for Richard Cromwell and his family, his younger brother Henry, and Oliver’s widow, Her Highness, the Dowager Elisabeth.
‘What else could I have done?’ he asked of the ghosts in the darkened room.
Having thus placated the firebrands in the Army, Monck had written to Speaker Lenthall refusing to take any oaths, or to permit the slightest interference with the establishment of his Army in Scotland. He had, however, assured Lenthall that his loyalty and that of his soldiers lay with Parliament for, as he had written trenchantly and now whispered into the darkness as if it were his creed, ‘I received my education as a soldier used to receiving and observing commands. Obedience is my great principle. I have always and ever shall reverence the Parliament and its resolutions in all things as infallible and sacred. There!’ he muttered. ‘Is not that better and more binding than any oath?’ And then he recalled how easily the good intentions of one party are thrown into confusion by the untrustworthy ambitions of another. ‘If only others could be bound by such principles. Or even by considerations of their honour: so much for oaths!’
The outrage he felt at the thought caused him to heave himself uncomfortably on his extemporised bed which creaked under his considerable weight. He emitted a curse and thought of Lambert, the man who had filched him of his due laurels on the field of Dunbar almost ten years ago; the cavalryman who had ridden high in the favour of Oliver thanks to dash and personality and good-looks. Lambert’s part in Cromwell’s reversal of English fortunes at Dunbar was important enough, however none of it could have been accomplished without the patient forethought and care of Monck. But Lambert the lawyer and amateur soldier had captured the imagination with his bold cavalry charges, whereas the plodding logistics of the officer responsible for the artillery and the supply-train made barely a mention in the victorious dispatch.
‘It would not have mattered had the popinjay not lorded it. And to think I took his handshake at Oliver’s bidding at face value. Great God, as a mark of my esteem I even sent him a gift of a pair of fine falcons that were given me by Cameron of Lochiel! And now…’
And now? Well, Lambert was on the march.
Of course, thought Monck, it was not unreasonable for Lambert to have been sent north to supress the rising in Cheshire, though among the exchange of messages and visitations Monck had received at Dalkeith there had been a correspondence with Lord Fairfax in Yorkshire. Fairfax, among many other land-owners, was disgusted by the powers assumed by the Army and was all for the return of the King as the lesser of two evils. Monck learned from him that the Cheshire rebellion enjoyed the support of moderate Presbyterians, people whom Monck most favoured in his religious beliefs. He had lent his name to a declaration drawn up by the Reverend Doctor Thomas Gumble advising the military junta that met in Wallingford House in London that their best course of action was to issue writs to fill the stalls in the House of Commons, recommending a new Parliament established rules for successive and representative Parliaments to sit. Monck was careful to couch this in terms of advice, never threatening either military intervention, or to suggest that if the Army junta did not comply, a restoration of the Monarchy would ensue – both of which would have caused a renewal of civil war. The declaration was held up, pending the outcome of the imminent encounter between Lambert and the Cheshire rebels.
While Monck awaited news of this, Doctor Price had importuned him, demanding that he act in support of the Royalists and incredulous that Monck did nothing.
Monck recalled the angry exchange with a smile. ‘In God’s name, Doctor Price! Would you have me ruin all and bring my neck to the block for love of the King?’ he had growled at the dissembling chaplain.
‘Sir!’ a thoroughly scared but dissembling Price had protested, ‘I have never named the King to you, either now or at any other time!’
‘No, you have not, but I know you, and I know your meaning.’
And when
the news of Lambert’s rout of the Royalists arrived, Monck had his own copy of the declaration burnt and was compelled to dissemble himself at a thanksgiving service held at Dalkeith in honour of Lambert’s victory. It seemed to Monck that the rumours swirling about were increasingly dangerous. He sent brother Nicholas and his daughter packing and asked Will Clarke to draw up a letter of resignation. ‘My health is broken and I am past fifty years of age,’ he had expostulated. ‘I wish only to spend my remaining days quietly at home.’
Suddenly now, as then, the image of the old manor house at Potheridge swam into his mind’s eye, along with the woods and the winding silver gleam of the near-by Torridge as it turned north and sought its confluence with the Taw and their joint debouchement into the Atlantic Ocean. Here, he and Anne could live a peaceable life, watching the young Kit grow to manhood, free of the gubernatorial demands of Dalkeith and, from time-to-time, visiting the estates Monck had been granted in Ireland.
‘No-one is to be trusted,’ the old soldier murmured as he turned on his bed, aware that while he had his brother-in-law, Thomas Clarges, attending his affairs in London, he was unable to prevent the replacement of his senior officers by sectaries appointed by the Rump. Clarges, a sitting member of the Rump Parliament warned him of this devious attempt to subvert Monck’s authority. Colonel William Daniel, one of his devoted column commanders in the campaign of 1654, had been plucked from his post as garrison commander at St Johnstone by such a distant machination. Monck’s furious protest had availed him nothing, so he sent Anne to Edinburgh to conspicuously purchase portmanteaux for their removal to Devon.
Going home with his daughter, Nicholas, who was aware of his elder brother’s intention to retire, had waited upon Clarges in London and told him of their mutual relative’s resolve. Alarmed, Clarges had in turn gone to Speaker Lenthall in whose opinion Monck stood high. Only recently had Monck learned from Clarges that by manipulating the business of the Commons, Lenthall had forestalled the reading of Monck’s letter of declaration and saved Monck’s reputation. In order to justify what his brother-in-law might have considered high-handed conduct, Clarges had explained himself in a letter, adding further intelligence of the Army’s increasingly outrageous conduct.
Like myself, William Lenthall holds thee in High Esteem, knowing thee to be the Only Man capable of Opposing the Rising Power of John Lambert. Now, Lambert having overcome the Malignant Uprising in Cheshire, has conjoined with some Fifty of his Fellows at Derby and proposed that Fleetwood should Usurp thy place as Head of the Army and have Lambert as his Second, which all do know, who know Fleetwood, that Lambert’s meaning is plain, that He shall have all the Command of the Army unto Himself.
A day or so later a courier from Lambert and his cronies at Derby placed a copy of this remonstrance in Monck’s hand. It asked for his support; he showed it to Clarke and Morgan and then ignored it. The Commons turned it down and Monck cheered up.
‘I know Johnnie Lambert,’ he growled, smiling again into the darkness. ‘He had o’er-reached himself along with his cronies and will likely encompass his own destruction.’
A new attempt by the militant Army officers to circumvent the Parliament had led to Monck assuring Lenthall that any direct threat to the Rump’s powers would lead to his marching south. ‘If only the Members stand firm, then we can do it,’ he wrote privately to Clarges. The Members had stood firm – the old soldier chuckled at the thought of it, for if it proved nothing else, his advice had been heeded – and they had outlawed any attempt by the Army to levy taxes. They had also ordered Lambert and Desborough cashiered, though they had retained the ineffectual Fleetwood as a figurehead. Lambert, however, moved his troops to prevent Parliament from sitting. He arranged for Fleetwood to continue as General with himself as his second-in-command, appointed a Committee of Safety and assumed the government.
One displaced Member of Parliament, Thomas Clarges, had swiftly despatched a courier telling Monck what had happened. Knowing Lambert’s clique enjoyed support among his own officers and that the Committee of Safety was supported by the likes of John Okey and Robert Overton whom – despite his valuable services – Monck had dismissed after Overton led a mutiny against him, Monck called in Morgan. Both men were aware that, while Monck had been absent serving as a General-at-Sea, the regiment of which Monck was the nominal Colonel had been ‘reformed’, meaning that radical sectarian officers had been appointed at the behest of London.
Without hesitation Monck had immediately ordered his own Regiment paraded for review under arms but without an issue of powder and ball. Behind them were drawn-up Talbot’s Regiment, upon which Monck knew he could depend. Talbot’s infantry were issued with powder and ball and, prior to marching onto the parade-ground, had loaded their matchlock muskets. Accompanied by Morgan and his small staff, Monck rode towards the two battalions, resplendent on his black charger, girded by his orange sash, and wearing half-armour about his body. Having raked the lines of his own men with his blue eyes, he made to ride along the ranks of Colonel Talbot’s in their rear, but reined-in his horse and commanded his Regiment to turn about. Ordering Talbot’s Foot to present their firelocks, Monck then read out the names of his own Regiment’s lieutenant colonel, its major, four captains, seven lieutenants, four ensigns, a quartermaster and nine sergeants and corporals. Several he had arrested, imprisoned and later interrogated; the remainder he simply dismissed. He then read out the names of those selected to take their places. When he had finished he ordered his own shocked troops to face front again, rode round to the head of the formation and commanded the attention of both Regiments.
‘I address the officers now on parade,’ he had said, his blue eyes chips of ice, his voice harsh, uncompromising. ‘I rely upon your obedience,’ he bellowed. ‘Nothing less! If, however, any left in post doth dissent from this resolve of mine, he has absolute liberty to quit the service, to receive his pass-port and to leave. I would not have any officer nor soldier here against his will.’
He had then sat his horse alone on front of them for two full minutes; not a man in the ranks moved, so terrible was the spectre of the old soldier on his charger. Then, just as he rowelled his mount’s flank and turned its head to walk it back towards Dalkeith Palace, the men began cheering him. He drew rein, pausing to doff his wide-brimmed, be-feathered hat to even greater enthusiasm and took his departure, leaving Lieutenant General Thomas Morgan, a diminutive figure near as terrifying as Monck, to dismiss the parade.
‘I have rarely seen a finer thing done, George,’ Morgan remarked later as the two men enjoyed a glass of wine in the Governor’s chambers.
‘A pity it was necessary,’ growled Monck. ‘Officers with political ambitions are dangerous to any Army and they may lead astray many giddy-headed but otherwise good fellows.’
‘You’ll have no more trouble from your boyos, George. They’ll follow you to Hell now.’
‘They followed me to Hell in Fifty-four, Tom. It was the new officers that didn’t.’
‘Bloody London,’ Morgan had said, summing up.
Recalling the coup de théâtre now Monck chuckled again. ‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘it was indeed well done…’ Nor had that been all, for the following evening in a torrent of rain and a rising gale, a detachment of Horse had set off for Berwick under Captain Johnson with Monck’s orders to purge every Anabaptist and Independent in the garrison. Other troops of cavalry were sent to purge the garrisons at Ayr, St Johnstone, Inverlochy, Perth and Inverness. Among those thereby summarily dismissed from the Army was Colonel John Okey who had served with Monck in Scotland and thereafter nurtured an animus against the General. Monck could spare little thought for such men; he had greater matters to consider than the fates of individuals, cruel though they might be. As Johnson completed his commission at Berwick, a Captain Cobbet rode in from London. He was the Council of Safety’s emissary to Scotland, sent by Fleetwood and Lambert, and he was two days behind Clarges’s faster courier. Johnson promptly had him arrested an
d brought before Monck at Dalkeith, who sent him to join his fellow dissenters in Edinburgh Castle.
Monck had next sent a galloper south with letters for Lenthall, Fleetwood and Lambert. I am engaged, the old soldier had written, in conscience and honour to see my Country freed (as much as in me lies) from the intolerable slavery of a Sword Government. This made his position crystal-clear: he had long believed the Army’s radicals were opposed to a representative Parliament and sought the destruction of the Church of England. Monck could tolerate the latter, but not the former. He particularly emphasised that, despite knowing the unrepresentative nature of the Rump, it being the best to hand, his Army in Scotland stood four-square behind it. To put his case plainly, Monck declared that he profoundly condemned the coercion the Army in England had put upon the Rump; in short the Army’s high command had acted illegally.
Easily led, particularly by Lambert, Fleetwood had bleated: I much wonder you should put yourself in a posture of opposition to your old friends; to which a scathing Monck had responded. Let the Lord judge between you and me where the Guilt will rest. And when the Lord pleases to return the Parliament to their trust, I will submit my Actings to their Judgement.
Sword of State: The Wielding Page 2