Dinner over, and the Lord Mayor and Common Council having met in Guildhall about five o'clock, Monk did surprise them.

He apologised for his proceedings of the two preceding days, declaring that the work was the most ungrateful he had ever performed in his life, and that he would have laid down his power rather than perform it, unless he had seen that by such a step he would only have given advantage to the dominant faction.

He was come now, however, to make amends.

He had that morning sent a letter to the House, requiring them to issue out writs within seven days for the filling up of vacancies in their ranks, and also, that being done, to dissolve themselves by the 6th of May at latest, that they might be succeeded by a full and free Parliament! Till he should receive ample satisfaction in reply to these demands and otherwise, he meant to remain in the City of London with his regiments, making common cause with the faithful citizens! Guildhall rang with acclamations; and, as the news was dispersed thence through the City, confirmed by the printed copies of Monk's letter to the Rump that were by this time in circulation, the dejection of the two last days passed into a phrenzy of joy.
Housewives ran out to Monk's soldiers, who had been standing all day under arms, carrying them food and drink without stint; crowds of apprentices danced everywhere like delirious demons; the bells of all the churches were set a-ringing; the houses of several "fanatics" were besieged, and the windows in Barebone's all smashed; and far into the night and into the Sunday morning the streets blazed with long rows of bonfires.

Whatever piece of flesh, in butcher's stall or in family-safe, bore resemblance to a rump, or could be carved into something of that shape, was hauled to one of these bonfires to be flung in and burnt; and for many a day afterwards the 11th of February 1659-60 was to be famous in London as _The Roasting of the Rump_.[1] [Footnote 1: Phillips, 685-687; Skinner, 219-230; Parl.Hist.