country, has also received high praise. His power and popularity were naturally dreaded by an unsettled government; and, consequently, long before he declared for the King, we find his fidelity suspected by his employers. In a letter addressed to him by the Protector, the latter adds, in a postscript: "There be that tell me, 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 to me." The real jealousy, concealed beneath this playful language, is sufficiently evident.

Whether in restoring Charles, and in rejecting the supreme authority for himself, Monk acted from the pure dictates of conscience; or whether he considered it the most certain method of advancing his own interests and fortunes, it would not be easy to determine. The question might be argued at great length, and, in the issue, might probably prove unfavourable to the reputation of honest George. Undoubtedly his principles had all along been strictly monarchical,—a fact of which Charles the Second was evidently aware: indeed, that his loyalty might not grow cold, the young King, during his exile, more than once sent reminders to his future benefactor. The following curious letter was communicated to Dr. Barwick by Christopher, the second Duke of Albemarle :

Cologne, August 12th, 1655.[N.S.] "ONE who believes he knows your nature and inclinations very well, assures me that notwithstanding all ill accidents and misfortunes, you retain still your old affection for me, and resolve to express it upon reasonable opportunity, which is as much as I look for from you. We must all wait patiently for that opportunity, which

may be offered sooner than you expect; when it is, let it find you ready: and, in the mean time, have a care to keep yourself out of their hands, who know the part you can do them in a good conjuncture, and can never but suspect your affection to be, as I am confident it is, towards your very affectionate friend,

"CHARLES REX." *

Monk very wisely transmitted this letter, or, as it would appear, a copy of it, to Cromwell. The number of the Protector's spies would have rendered concealment dangerous; besides, its falling into Cromwell's hands could little injure the cause of the exiled King; and would, on the other hand, naturally impress Cromwell with a favourable notion of Monk's integrity.

The manner in which, by his wily conduct and pardonable dissimulation, the Restoration was effected by Monk, is, perhaps, more familiar to the reader than any other event in our annals. "Truly," says Hobbes of Malmesbury, in his Behemoth, "I think the bringing up of his little army entirely out of Scotland up to London, was the best stratagem that is extant in history." +

A greater obligation was never laid by a subject on his sovereign, neither was it meagerly nor coldly repaid. When Charles landed at Dover, Monk, who was in readiness to receive him, fell on one knee, and congratulated his Majesty on his happy return. During the King's progress to London, Monk was constantly at his side, either on horseback, or in the royal coach. At Canterbury the Garter was conferred on him; the Dukes of York and Gloucester investing him with the insignia.

* Life of Dr. Barwick. Appendix.

Maseres's Tracts, p. 653.

Shortly afterwards, he was sworn of the Privy Council, appointed Master of the Horse, a Gentleman of the Bedchamber, First Lord of the Treasury, and had apartments awarded him in the Cock-pit at Whitehall. Within a few weeks he was also created Baron Monk of Potheridge, Beauchamp, and Tees, Earl of Torrington, and Duke of Albemarle. To these honours was added a grant of seven thousand pounds a-year, besides other valuable pensions and immunities. In eight years he is reported to have amassed a fortune of four hundred thousand pounds either in lands or money.

Shortly after the Restoration, Monk happened to attend the church of the famous Edmund Calamy, the nonconformist minister. Calamy, in his discourse, had occasion to deprecate the debasing influence of riches. "Some men," he said, "will even betray three kingdoms for filthy lucre's sake." At the same time, in order to give point to his denunciation, he threw his handkerchief, which he usually waved up and down while he was preaching, towards the General's pew.*

Monk never presumed on his important services, but after the Restoration was remarkable for the same taciturnity and apparent meekness which had ever distinguished him. Charles styled him his "political father," and said of him that the Duke of Albemarle overvalued not the services of General Monk.

But prouder than his restoration of an ancient monarchy-prouder than all his victories-was his conduct during the raging of the great plague. Instead of flying, as others did, to a distant and uninfected countryinstead of mixing, as he might have done, in the ill-timed pleasures of the court at Oxford-he remained in London

*

Calamy's Abridgment of the Life and Times of Baxter.

in the midst of death and danger; visiting the pesthouses himself; guarding the property of the citizens; comforting the sick, and administering to their wants. from his own private resources. His chaplain, Dr. Gumble, was in the metropolis during this awful period, and thus describes the scenes of which he was a witness: "Death," he says, "rode triumphant through every street, as if it would have given no quarter to any of mankind; and ravaged as if it would have swallowed all mortality. It was a grievous sight to see in that great emporium nothing vendible or merchantable but coffins. You should see no faces but such as were covered with terrors and horrors, many walking the streets with their sores running, and many dropping down dead at your very feet, while discoursing with them. All the music in the night was the sad sound, Bring out your dead,' which, like dung, were thrown out into a cart, and tumbled into a pit, without numbering. The day was always summoning to our grave with knells and tolling of bells and if we looked abroad, there was nothing but cries out of houses to pray for them. It was their last request, every house marked with a Lord have mercy on us! I cannot write this without tears, much less could I see it, as I did all the time, without the greatest grief and horror: seldom did we meet friends, but it was, as it were, the last parting in this world."

:

The moral effect, which this gigantic disorder produced on the minds of men, was not its least extraordinary feature. "In one house," says the same eye-witness, "you might hear them roaring under the pangs of death; in the next tippling, and uttering blasphemies against God; one house shut up with a red-cross, and Lord have mercy on us! the next open to all uncleanness and impiety, being senseless of the anger of God: in the

very pest-houses such wickedness committed as is not to be named." And yet, in order that he might be of service to his fellow creatures, such scenes as these were preferred by this truly great man to the security and splendour of a court. It may be remarked, that Sheldon, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord Craven, the old courtier of the reign of Charles the First, and the supposed husband of the Queen of Bohemia,* were his voluntary companions in the hour of danger.

Of one who displayed such high moral courage, it is needless perhaps to say that he showed equal valour on the field of battle. But Monk, under whatever circumstances, had no notion of fear. During the Protectorate, -at the time the sailors were clamouring for the payment of their prize-money, and serious riots appeared imminent,-Monk suddenly appeared among them, and, having explained the reason of the delay, passed his word for the almost immediate settlement of their claims. So far, however, were his promises from having the desired effect, that, shortly afterwards, a formidable body of sailors, to the number of about five thousand, came threatening, and in arms, to Whitehall. Cromwell and Monk issued from the palace to meet them. Monk, in a fair and straightforward speech, reproached them warmly for distrusting his word, and renewed his promises of a speedy settlement. His remonstrances, however, again proving of no avail, and the men still maintaining their threatening attitute, Monk suddenly drew his sword, and violently attacked those in the foremost ranks. This prompt act of gallantry had the effect of intimidating the rest, who forthwith dispersed to their own homes.†

His conduct, on the occasion of Chatham being attacked

* See ante, vol. i. p. 158.

+ As the story has been differently related, probably Monk's pane