the thickest of them, and cut down several of the leaders. Such was the effect produced by this alacrity, that they couched their weapons, and after hearing a reproach or two from him for doubting a word he had never broken to them, they retired at his bidding, and quietly sought their homes.

The grand issue of Monk's plans and movements henceforward was the restoration of the exiled king, a memorable event, admirably conducted, and so perfectly known, that there is nothing left in this place, but to re-echo the praises which the nobility of the action, and the prudence of its execution, have so often, and so deservedly received. Marching directly into England to intercept the possibility of any dangerous aspirations upon the part of Lambert, who was the only man likely to rival his views, he gradually purified his ranks of the most factious members, and upon quartering his army in Westminster, avowed his intention of supporting the interests of the Parliament. In return for this, he honestly told the members, that he expected they would support the interests of the people, by which means peace and happiness might once more become the enjoyment of their distracted country. The greater an emergency, the more serviceable is plain dealing; and upon this occasion, the candid sense with which Monk spoke and acted, most triumphantly favoured his designs. The Long Parliament, that desperate focus of all the crime and misery which overran the three kingdoms, during the century in which it abused every principle and privilege of legislation, at last came to the decent resolution of dissolving its power. A new election was ordained; and that single measure involved every other consequence of success. An unbiassed appeal to the people secured the return of reasonable men to the councils of the state; the House of Peers was dexterously thrown open to the high functions of the Lords, without a debate, or even an order; things were allowed to take their own course, and they fell pleasantly into their natural channel; and it now required only to utter the word, and that great point for which so much had been dared, and so much suffered, was sure to be found at the goal. This was a beautiful posture in the affairs of a mighty nation: every breast was big with hope, and confident of success, and yet so much blood had been spilt, and so many lives martyred for it, that it seemed as if the blessing was too consummate for utterance, and men

agreed,

by tacit consent, to complete their happiness ere they trusted a tongue with congratulation or thanksgiving. Monk himself was impenetrably secret upon the subject; to no one did he breathe. a hint of his designs, and from no one would he hear a counsel upon it. Of his tenacity in this respect a characteristic story is recorded. All Monk's relations and kindred were devoted to the royal interest; his brothers were actually in Charles's service, and it was not unnaturally supposed, that he himself could not be without some feelings of partiality for the cause in which he had first embarked, and honourably suffered. To ascertain and cherish so momentous a disposition,* Dr. Monk, his younger brother, was sent into Scotland with a letter from the king. Upon reaching the general's quarters, he found him engaged at a council of officers, from whom he was not likely to be at liberty for some time. Meanwhile, the Doctor was received and entertained by Price, the general's chaplain, a man highly respected by Monk, and well-known to be in the confidence of the Royalists. To him Doctor Monk freely communicated the object of his journey, and even desired the advantage of support, should circumstances rcquire it. At length, the brothers met, and the instructions were opened, when the General abruptly, asked "If mention of the business had been made to any other person?" "To no one," returned the Doctor, "but to Price, whom I know to be entirely trusted by you." Still the fact was fatal: the general turned the conversation, and refused to enter any further upon it; nor could any entreaty or importunity induce him to hold deeper intercourse on a question so vital, even with a brother, who had been weak enough to confide to an inferior, what should have been only addressed to his principal, although that inferior was a man of probity, on whom he would have himself relied. A noble instance this of that principle, without which no matter of consequence can ever be expected to prosper, and of that reserve so requisite in the dangerous work then meditated.

Meantime, Monk connected himself upon the most popular terms with the corporation of London, at a public meeting in the

This was Nicholas Monk, afterwards Provost of Eton, and Bishop of Hereford. He was buried, and is commemorated by a marble tablet, in the Chapel of St. Edmund, in Westminster Abbey.

city; while a sudden insurrection by Lambert, which for the moment spread universal consternation, was vigorously suppressed, and the new Parliament assembled with every prospect of general amity. Already the House of Commons had chosen their speaker, and were about to commence business, when Monk presented himself at the bar, and unceremoniously informed them, that one Sir John Granville waited at the door, with a letter from the king for the Commons of England. A cry of ecstasy burst forth upon the news, and the restoration was carried in the shout. The king was proclaimed before the members of both houses in Palace-yard, at Whitehall, and Temple Bar; £500 were voted to buy a jewel for Granville; and then 50,000l. as a present to the King; 10,000l. to the Duke of York, and 5,000l. to the Duke of Gloucester; and a deputation of Lords and Commons was decreed to welcome Charles II. to his crown. While these acts passed with enthusiasm at home, Montague, afterwards Earl of Sandwich, prevailed upon the fleet to tender its duty to their monarch, and actually sailed without orders to the coast of Holland. At Schoeling, Charles came on board, and upon disembarking at Dover, was received in the arms of Monk, than whom no subject ever deserved better of his king or his country.

Thus happily were peace and monarchy restored to three kingdoms, which for twenty years had been rent to the extreme of misery by incessant feud and constant bloodshed; thus, too, did one mau quietly effect what thousands had vainly died to accomplish; and all by means the least exceptionable, and a manner the most en viable. Here was no plot in measures, no conspiracy among men; no hazarding of a good cause in order to overthrow a bad one; no intrigues, no oaths, no desperation; the whole affair is marked by an exemplary correctness, and an original simplicity which the corruption of universal history leaves without a single parallel. What reward, wealth, honours, and offices could return for such services, Monk now received in abundance. He was created Duke of Albemarle, and Knight of the Garter, was appointed Lord of the Bedchamber, and made Master of the Horse; he received a pension of 7,000l. a-year, and, as the climax of public respect, was formally attended by the whole House of ·Commons upon the occasion of his first repairing to take his seat among the Lords.

The Duke of Albemarle was now left for some time in the easy enjoyment of fame. In 1665, however, a war, most unforhunately undertaken against the Dutch, called him back to the busier scenes of life; and while the Duke of York commanded the fleet at sea, he directed the admiralty on shore. Though victory at the onset was won by the English, yet were some reflections made upon the conduct of the royal duke, for not urging the advantages of a pursuit as far as they might have been pushed; and Albemarle was, in consequence, solicited by the king. to occupy his brother's place. This step is said to have been earnestly opposed by the general's private friends, who forcibly represented that his character as a soldier, a sailor, and a statesman, were proudly established, and that he was unreasonable, at his time of life, to risk all those honours upon the chances of another war, in which no success could heighten, while any defeat must tarnish the greatness of his reputation. To this overprudent advice he very properly replied, by stating, that his character could only derive value from its utility to his country: and accordingly, he accepted the command, in conjunction with Prince Rupert. No sooner was this known, than sailors came in crowds to enlist, because, as they bluntly declared, honest George, they were sure, would still see them righted.

Early in 1666, the Dutch fleet, amounting to seventy-six sail, put to sea under De Ruyter and Van Tromp, while a French squadron of forty sail, led by the Duke of Beaufort, also pressed forward to support them. Albemarle, still estimating the Dutch by the defeats they had sustained at his hands under the Commonwealth, proposed to divide his force, which altogether mustered only seventy-four sail, by sending the one half with Prince Rupert, against the French, while he remained with the other to oppose De Ruyter; and this plan, though protested against for its temerity by some of the officers, was ultimately adopted. The admirals parted, and Albemarle, on the 1st of June, began the celebrated battle of the four days. On the first day, darkness parted the combatants, and except the loss of Vice-Admiral Sir William Berkeley, who was found covered with blood and wounds in his cabin, after the ship had been overpowered in the thickest of the enemy's van; the English had little to complain of. They lay at the weather-gage,

and the Dutch shot fell principally among the rigging, so that no heavy damage was thus effected: the greatest injury was done by fire-ships.

The result of this encounter convinced them, however, that their enemy was far from deficient in courage, and equally well commanded, while in superiority of numbers they had an advantage not to be equalled. Albermarle, therefore, on the second morning, called a council of war, in which he made this pithy address to his officers :- "If we had feared the numbers of our enemy, we should have fled yesterday; but, though inferior to them in ships, we are in all else superior. Force gives them courage; let us, if we need it, borrow confidence from what we have already done; and let the enemy feel, that though our fleet be divided, yet our spirit is entire. At the worst, will it not be better to die bravely here on our own element, than to be made spectacles to the Dutch? To be overcome is the fortune of war; but to fly is the fashion of cowards. Let us, then, shew the world that Englishmen prefer death to fear." The nobility of these sentiments decided the question of a continued engagement, which was supported with desperate intrepidity on both sides. Albemarle strained every nerve in valour; no youth, fresh in hope, and struggling for his first honour, could exert himself more. But all was in vain: the wind had fallen, the combat was steadier, and the strength of the enemy irresistible. Retreat becoming unavoidable, he turned the fleet toward the shore; a most fortunate calm set in; pursuit was thus intercepted; and night again prevented further engagement. On the following morning, the English continued to retire in good order, and the Dutch to pursue with resolution. Albemarle undauntedly closed the rear, and as the last extremity seemed to approach, proposed to the Earl of Ossory, son of the Duke of Ormond, who sailed on board the same vessel with him, rather to blow up the ship than surrender. The latter, a youth of approved gallantry, applauded the idea with enthusiasm, and the act was resolved upon; when about two o'clock, just as the enemy were near enough to renew the fight, a fleet was descried crowding all sail from the south towards the scene of action. This proved to be Prince Rupert: Albemarle again joined him with alacrity; and the scale of victory was turned.