A new and powerful ally had arisen for the secret projects of Monk. The city of London, that hotbed of the Presbyterian and reforming party whence the Long Parliament in the height of its power had drawn support in its struggle against Charles I., now openly raised against the feeble and mutilated Parliament the standard of resistance. The Common Council decided that it would not pay taxes imposed on the city until it saw the establishment of a free and complete Parliament. This was both the moral and material ruin of the power which was still sitting at Westminster.
The anger which this excited was commensurate with the danger. Parliament called on Monk and gave him orders to enter the city, to pull down in the streets the chains and posts, to destroy the gates, and arrest eleven of the rebellious citizens. The conference lasted a long time. Monk returned home at three o'clock in the morning, gloomy and anxious. At dawn of day, when the soldiers received the order to march into the city, they began to question among each other, not knowing what service they were to be employed in. Those officers who rallied round the general at an inn with the sign of "The Three Tuns," near Guildhall, were in consternation, and they entreated him not to require from them so odious a service. Monk walked to and fro in the room. "Will you not obey the orders of Parliament?" he asked. Some few understood him. They obeyed; the work of destruction began. The citizens rushed out into the streets breathing rage against their assailants. "Is this that General Monk who was to bring us back the king? It is a Scottish devil. What new misfortunes are we doomed to undergo?" The more influential citizens sought an interview with the general. "You would obtain from us much more easily by persuasion than by force what you might reasonably demand," they said. Monk appeared moved by this language. He consented to suspend his mournful task. "I have good reasons for hoping," he wrote to the House, "that they will pay the tax. I await your orders for continuing the destruction of the gates and portcullis. They desire the liberation of the members of the Court of Common Council who have been arrested. I recommend that prayer to your serious attention." And he added, "I humbly implore you to hasten to pass the Elections Bill, so that the orders necessary for completing the House may be despatched." The House did not yield to the wishes of Monk, but gave him instructions to complete his work in the city. He obeyed, notwithstanding the ill-humor of his soldiers. "We have come from Scotland, where our old enemies loved us, to oppress our friends here," they said. That evening the city had lost all its ancient defences, and the general returned to Whitehall.
There was great anxiety among the friends of Monk. As soon as he had left the city they flocked around him. "The House," they said, "distrusted him; in vain it pretended to be grateful. It might at any moment deprive him of his command." There was urgent necessity for recovering the shattered confidence of the city and the Presbyterian party by declaring for a complete and free Parliament. Monk hesitated, asking for two days to consult with his officers, but his friends pressed him. A letter to Parliament was drawn up, setting forth the grievances and the desires of the country, and demanding that they should be satisfied by a day fixed. This was signed by the general and fourteen superior officers. The document was conveyed to Parliament. Monk, at the head of his troops, took the road to the city, which was alarmed and troubled at seeing those from whom it had just received such harsh affronts suddenly return. The Lord Mayor did not conceal from the general the uneasiness of the citizens. "I come precisely," replied Monk, "to put an end to the misunderstandings which have arisen between the city and me. Summon the Common Council for four o'clock; I desire to have a conference with them." These words sufficed to throw light on the situation. The Common Council had been dissolved by Parliament. They sat down at the council table. Presently two commissioners from Parliament desired to be conducted into the presence of the general. These were Scott and Robinson, who were the bearers of the thanks of the House of Commons to Monk. He pressed them to return to Whitehall. "Let the House do what I have advised them in my letter," he said, "let it issue on Friday next the writs for completing the Parliament, and all will be well." He dismissed the two commissioners and repaired to the Guildhall. "The last time that I visited you," he said on entering, "was on the most disagreeable business that I have ever been charged with in my life; and one altogether against my inclination. I come to-day to tell you that I have this morning written to Parliament, requesting that they will order within a week the elections which will fill the vacant seats, and that they will dissolve on the 6th of May, to give place to a complete and free Parliament. Meanwhile I have resolved that my army shall take up its quarters in the city, there to wait in the midst of you until I have seen my letter put in execution and your wishes fulfilled."
As he uttered these last words the voice of Monk was drowned in acclamations. The news spread through the city with the rapidity of lightning. Bonfires were lighted in all directions, into which they cast all the rumps of beef or hind quarters of sheep that they could find at the butchers. These were the "rumps" which they roasted to the singing of staves, while dancing, and from time to time drinking to the health of the king. The bells rang out with all their power; the soldiers were surrounded and feted on all sides. The intervention of Monk was necessary to preserve discipline, and to quiet the people who talked of going in the morning to drive the speaker from his seat, and Parliament from its Hall.
Meanwhile the Republican Parliament felt that it had received a mortal stab, and in its impotent rage it precipitately adopted odious severities. Vane, who had secretly returned to London some days before, received orders to return to his residence at Raby. Ludlow came to bid him farewell. "Unless I am much mistaken," said Vane, "Monk has yet several masks to put off. For myself, my conscience is at rest. I have done all that God enabled me to do for the Commonwealth. I hope He will grant me strength enough for my trials, however rough they may be, that I may still render to His cause faithful testimony." This noble spirit, so sincere in its visionary doctrines, had yet to suffer much, and was already hardening himself against the prospect of martyrdom.
Monk seemed to have relapsed into his habitual mood of indecision and silence. While the House was preparing the writs which were to fill up the vacant seats, including those of the expelled members, the general, still in courteous communication with it, had interviews at the same time with the members who were pursued by their old enemies, received daily messages from the Royalists, who were becoming constantly more exacting regarding his real intentions, and endeavored to establish a good understanding between the officers and the Presbyterians, for whom he preserved his old predilection. The situation, nevertheless, became every day more strained. At length Monk resolved to do himself without delay what he had not succeeded in bringing about by the mere course of events with the adhesion of those who were concerned. On the 21st of February, after obtaining from the excluded members an undertaking to summon for the 20th of April following, a complete and free Parliament, he left his fortified quarters in the city, and assembling at Whitehall his new allies, "Return to the House to fulfill your salutary task," he said; "not only will the guards willingly allow you to enter, but I and the officers under my orders, and I believe all the officers of these three nations, will willingly shed our blood for the future Parliament."
Under the escort of Major Miller, who commanded the general's guard, the excluded members set out for Westminster. Other officers were awaiting their arrival at the doors. They entered: the House was silent but agitated. A few republican leaders rose and went out. "This is your work," said Haslerig, crossing over to Ashley-Cooper, "but it will cost you blood." "Your blood, if you please," replied his colleague. The rest of the members kept their seats. A letter from Monk arrived. It was read without comment. The general had quitted his quarters in the city and established himself in St. James's Palace.