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 man quietly effect what thousands had vainly died to accomplish; and all by means the least exceptionable, and a manner the most enviable. 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 unfortunately 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.

On the fourth morning the attack was resumed with forces more equal, and unaltered violence. After a long cannonade, the fleets closed in action, and fought with the most determined spirit until about six in the evening, when they were separated by a dense mist. The English were the first to retire to their harbours, where they claimed a victory, upon the double grounds of their inferior force, and more obstinate courage; while the Dutch, having made a few captures, returned home with all the parade and rejoicing of indisputable triumph. But the circumstance which reflected greatest credit upon the pretensions of the English, was the fact of their having been first out at sea again, in thorough repair, and presenting once more to the cannon of the enemy, many of those ships whichit had been prematurely boasted were either captured or sunk.

On the 25th of the same month the two fleets met again under the same commanders; the force on both sides was nearly equal, amounting to about eighty sail, and an engagement took place, fierce and unrepressed as the experience of such officers, the valour of their men, and the excitement of so many trials for decisive conquest, could inspire. The attack was led by the English under Sir Thomas Allen, commanding the white squadron, who routed the Dutch van, and killed the three admirals appointed to it. Van Tromp was opposed by Sir Jeremy Smith, and entirely cut off from all assistance, while De Ruyter supported the main violence of the battle, and though terribly overpowered, kept up a spirited defence until the close of the day preserved him from the mortification of flight. That resource, however, was not long deferred; for on the following morning, his fleet appeared shattered and broken; the superiority of the English was manifest, and nothing but the greatest skill and the most arduous efforts saved the Dutch from utter destruction. They withdrew in a manner highly honourable; and after being severely pressed during two days and a night, at last saved themselves in their harbours, while the English sailed about in undisputed sovereignty, and even insulted the enemy in their anchorage.

Albemarle's last appearance in arms is now to be recorded: this was in 1667, when the Dutch fleet enjoyed the unprecedented No. II.

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