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.