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 the Admiralty. 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's Perfect Captaine with an enthusiasm which his own Observations too 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 its geographical 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 the license 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 of the 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, according to 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 into an 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 avoided an 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 their bickerings 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 to complete 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 were arrested 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 was the 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 original question 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 returned to 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 see his 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. There all 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 he should ever 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 doubt Oliver 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 dissolved his 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.

To the Government's distrust Monk replied with contempt. His despatches at this time are curt and peremptory. He obviously detested the new state of things, and acquiesced in it only because it staved off the evil day he dreaded when he would be dragged, sword in hand, into the miserable political struggle which he had hitherto so successfully avoided. He sullenly did his duty, and that was all. He informed the Government of Royalist movements as regularly as ever, and engaged as actively in keeping the country quiet. Still, as though he foresaw the need his country was soon to have for Scotland's goodwill, he began to relax his hold, and with complete success. "The last two years of his government," it was said by a Scotchman, "were so mild and moderate, except with respect to the clergy, whose petulant and licentious tongues he curbed upon all occasions, that the nation would not have willingly changed it for any other but that of their natural prince." Yet his rule was so complete that in Scotland the great Royalist plot that was now in full maturity could not even show its head.