Another debt which the nation owed to George Monk, whether for good or ill it is hard to say, was entirely due to the confidence his unblemished career had inspired. The Revolution had taken fire in the heat of a quarrel as to which estate of the realm was to control the army. That that dispute did not recur to mar the harmony of the Restoration, and even to render it impossible, was due to the simple fact that the nation trusted "honest George." As soon as it was known that he held the royal commission of Captain-General not a word was uttered on the question. In his hands the country knew that it was safe.
Thus it was that he became the Father of the British Army. It was he who, in the few regiments that were kept on foot to overawe the Sectaries, started its glorious traditions. It was he who gave it its unequalled note of duty and devotion. It was he who once and for ever pronounced that it must be a thing apart from politics, and taught it that a soldier's greatest glory is to obey. In every characteristic of which it is proudest, or for which we love it best, glitters the stamp of its first commander's personality. Whether we see its officers rising in the hour of peril above the personal jealousies which have ruined so many of our neighbours' enterprises, or admire its dogged obstinacy, its cheerful discipline, and its chivalrous impatience of party strife; or whether we glory in the strange contempt it has ever shown for its enemies, making a pastime of war,—we have but to turn to see each finest trait reflected as in a mirror in the life of the man who gave it breath. Strange, indeed, it is that a body in which esprit de corps has reached its noblest development should have forgotten as it has the hero who begot it, and guided its first halting steps along the splendid path it was to tread.
And yet the cause is plain enough. Like the rest of the great characters of the English Revolution, Monk has till recently been only visible through the literature of the Restoration. The navy was then the fashion, and Monk was only known to the historians of the time as an admiral. That aspect of him obscured every other. Society patronised the navy; it even divided itself into two cliques on the subject, the partisans of the general and the partisans of Lord Sandwich. Montague's party included nearly all the Court, and unfortunately his two talented placemen Pepys and Evelyn, whose testimony wherever their patron's rival is concerned is so tainted with gratitude as to be almost worthless. Yet from them he is chiefly judged, though they manifestly will never say a good word for him if they can help it; and the Clerk of the Check at least is never more happy than when he is pouring lively contempt upon his seamanship, his duchess, and his dinners.
Monk, however, was secure in the favour of the King and the nation, and, as has been said, it was to him they turned in their trouble after the unsatisfactory naval campaign of 1665. The two admirals had come out of it far from well. Both the Duke of York and Lord Sandwich were accused of cowardice, and Monk had charged his rival with something very like embezzling prize-money. In recognition of their services the prince was told he could not be allowed to expose his life again, and the peer was sent out of the way as ambassador to Madrid. It was, in fact, resolved to supersede them by Prince Rupert and the lord-general. The only question was, would the great man condescend to accept the appointment? After sounding Morice the King with considerable trepidation determined to try. In the autumn Monk was suddenly summoned to Oxford from his post of danger at Whitehall, which with heroic devotion he had never left since the plague broke out. In three days he was back again, and with a throb of delight the country heard that the Duke of Albemarle was to command the fleet next year. Though longing for rest and enfeebled with disease, he had accepted the divided command without a murmur. The only condition he made was that his wife should not know of it till the last moment, for he was sure she would be furious with him for going to sea again. But the appointment was too popular to be kept a secret. The country was confident that nothing could withstand the Duke of Albemarle. The news spread like fire, and the fond old general had some bad half-hours before he sailed in the spring.
On June 1st, while separated from Rupert, he met the Dutch fleet under De Ruyter, outnumbering him nearly two to one. A council of war was called, but the old general's antipathy for cowardice had grown to be almost a monomania. He "hated a coward as ill as a toad," and every officer there knew that the barest suggestion that savoured of prudence would cost him his ship. Of course he attacked, and against such an enemy the issue was a foregone conclusion. After a three days' fight his fleet was cut to pieces. The wonder is that it was not annihilated. It was only by a brilliant display of all his old mastery of naval tactics that he got its shattered remains into the Thames.[14]
On the evening of the third day Rupert joined him, and on the morrow he staggered out once more in the prince's company. Astonished as the Dutch had been at the reckless daring of Monk with his fleet of wrecks, they thought it impossible for him again to put to sea, and had gone back to Holland to refit. About eight o'clock they were sighted to windward, and at once fell into line and lay to to wait for the English. Monk was for attacking immediately. Up till now he had modestly given way to Rupert's greater nautical experience, but now the prince wanted to slacken sail to let the Blue division close up as it was far astern. Monk flew into a passion, but as even he could not call the daring prince a coward, he had reluctantly to admit that he was prudent. While the gay young Duke of Buckingham, who, not to be out of the fashion, had joined the fleet as a volunteer, was laughing to see Rupert for once in his life on the side of caution, the furious old general was caught quietly loading a little pocket-pistol. It was a curious weapon for a sea-fight, and Monk had been heard to say that whatever happened he did not mean to be taken. It could only be intended to blow up the ship as a last resource. "And therefore," says Buckingham, "Mr. Saville and I in a laughing way most mutinously resolved to throw him overboard in case we should ever find him going down to the powder-room."
The action which ensued was indecisive, but the advantage on the four days was certainly with the Dutch. Still the old general would never admit it. He always maintained he had inflicted greater loss on De Ruyter than he had suffered himself. He did not dream he was beaten. He accused the greater part of his officers, certainly with some reason, of cowardice, and even of treachery. Not above twenty of them, he used to say, had behaved like men; and in unshaken contempt of his brave enemy he set to work desperately to refit and begin again more furious and confident than ever.
The Dutch were out first, and lay in triumph in the mouth of the Thames with a hundred sail. By incredible exertions Monk and Rupert had a like number ready before the end of July, and dropped down the river to meet the enemy. The Dutch retired to their own coasts and the English gave chase. Early on the morning of the 25th the enemy were sighted to leeward. They at once took the crescent formation to await the attack. The English came on in grand order. Every ship took up its position in splendid style, and by ten o'clock the whole line was hotly engaged. Monk and Rupert on the Royal Charles, formerly the Naseby, singled out De Ruyter, but even the boldness with which the Dutch admiral accepted the engagement could not in the least reduce Monk's contempt. The old general stood unmoved on the quarter-deck chewing his tobacco as the Dutch flagship ranged alongside. "Now," said he, "will this fellow come and give me two broadsides, and then he shall run." Two broadsides were exchanged, but De Ruyter did not run, nor yet at the third or fourth. For two hours the kings of the fleets fought hand to hand in Homeric strife, till the Royal Charles was a perfect wreck aloft and had to fall astern. "Methinks, sir," said an officer to the Duke, "De Ruyter hath given us more than two broadsides." The old soldier only turned his quid to say, "Well, but you shall find him run by and by." And so he did at last. Jordan had taken the generals' place, and in half an hour they had bent new tackle enough to engage again. But before De Ruyter gave way he had once more reduced the Royal Charles to such a state that her boats had to tow her out of the line and the generals shifted their flags to the Royal James.
De Ruyter brought off his shattered fleet in such masterly style that little was reaped from the victory. An attempt was made on the following day to renew the action and complete the enemy's destruction. But the wind was gone. The light airs that prevailed were useless to the English ships, while they enabled the Dutch, which were of shallower draught, to reach the refuge of their own shoals and estuaries. However, the English kept the sea, and a few days later were able to land on the island of Schelling, sack the town of Brandaris, and burn a fleet of one hundred and fifty merchantmen that lay in the river. By this one exploit damage to the extent of over a million was done to the Dutch, and the Duke was applauded once more to the echo by his exulting country. All August he cruised in the Channel, making prizes, cutting out merchantmen, and preventing a junction between the French and the Dutch; nor did he return till just in time to receive the King's anxious suggestion that he should come to London to allay the panic which the great fire had created. He was left free to come or not as he liked, and much against his will he came to his master's side. The effect of his presence was immediate, and Lord Arlington considered that by his prompt return he had given the King his throne a second time.
Disgusted as Monk was with the whole war and its indecisive actions; with the weather that always interposed just as he was going to crush his despised foes; with his young gentleman captains who only played at fighting, and knew nothing of the sea but its slang; with the old Commonwealth officers that would not do their duty against the great Protestant Republic, there was yet worse in store for the old patriot.