Montagu had now indeed, as Clarendon observes, betaken himself most generously to the King’s service. He was occasionally much tried by the over-interference of his colleague, Monk, “yet was he willing to do him all the honour in the world,” and let him have all the honour of doing the business, though “he will many times express his thoughts of Monk being a thick-skulled fool.” But Monk was most influential, and Montagu, with his wonted magnanimity, sacrificed his own pride to advance the cause of his royal master, and the prosperity of his country. So wise, judicious, and temperate was he, though still young.
He dearly loved his profession, and seemed to take a pride and pleasure in adorning and ornamenting the vessels under his command. “My Lord went about to-day to see what alterations were to be made in the armes and flags, and did give me orders to write for silk flags and scarlet waist-clothes (to be hung round the hull of the ship to protect the men in action) for a rich barge, a noise of trumpets, and a set of fiddlers. He oftentimes played himself on the guitar with much contentment,” and appears to have been as hospitable in his house of wooden walls, as at his fine seat of Hinchingbrook, “receiving the gentlemen who visited him with great civility. Frequent messengers from and to the King at Breda, and divers bearing letters from the Houses of Parliament. On the 9th of May, a certain noble from the House of Lords, to desire my Lord to provide ships for the transport of the Commissioners to His Majesty, who had just been proclaimed in London with great pomp. On the same day the Admiral received his orders to sail presently for the King, a command which he obeyed with alacrity, and of which he was very glad.”
On arriving at the Hague they anchored before that “most neat place in all respects,” where “my Lord” kissed by proxy the hands of the Queen of Bohemia, and the Prince of Orange, sending a deputation on shore including his secretary and youthful son. The Prince of Orange himself, is a “pretty boy.” In the evening “my Lord showed me his fine cloaths, which are as brave as gold and silver can make them.” His royal master appears to have been in a different plight and badly off both for “cloaths” and gold and silver too, and when he received a supply of both his Majesty was so much overjoyed that he called the Princess Royal and the Duke of York to inspect the treasures, as they lay in the portmanteau. The Duke of York was now named High Admiral, and visited the “Nazeby,” (where he was received with due honour), accompanied by the Duke of Gloucester. On the 23rd, the King came off from shore, and entering Montagu’s boat (he having gone off to meet his Majesty), “did kiss my Lord most affectionately.” The two Dukes, the Queen of Bohemia, the Princess Royal, and the Prince of Orange accompanied Charles in his visit to the “Nazeby,” a proud day for Samuel Pepys as well as for the commander; and the “Nazeby” was re-christened “Charles” by her royal Sponsor; and no wonder, for the first name could be in no ways pleasing to any of the parties concerned. And so they set sail for England, “his Majesty walking up and down the quarter-deck, and telling mightily interesting stories of his escape from Worcester, and other adventures.” At Dover the King was received by General Monk with great acclamations, but Montagu remained in his barge, “transported with joy that he had done all this without any the least blur or obstruction in the world.” Two days afterwards he received the Order of the Garter, with which he was invested on shipboard; the like honour being conferred on General Monk, a rare occurrence, as it was seldom given to any one beneath the rank of Earl.
On the Admiral’s arrival in London, he received the Office of the Great Wardrobe, and had the thanks of Parliament for his services and loyalty. Pepys describes with much perspicuity the constant labours in which he and his patron were engaged at the Admiralty, showing that habits of business were a part of this remarkable man’s qualifications, and that in whatever capacity he acted, it was done zealously and diligently. In July 1660, he was raised to the Peerage, by the titles Baron of St. Neots, Viscount Hinchingbrook, and Earl of Sandwich.
He was very merry at the expense of his matter-of-fact secretary when he dined at Whitehall soon after, and “my Lord talked very high how he would have a French cook, and a Master of Horse, and his Lady and child to wear black patches (which methought strange), and when my Lady said she would get a good merchant for her daughter ‘Jem,’ [afterwards Lady Carteret], he said he would rather see her with a pedlar’s pack at her back, than to marry a citizen. But my Lord is become quite a courtier.”
At the coronation of Charles II. my Lord carried the staff of St. Edward, and when he accompanied the King from the Tower to Whitehall, even in “a show so glorious with gold and silver that we were not able to look at it, Lord Sandwich’s embroidery and diamonds were not ordinary;” and afterwards “he talked to me of his coat, which was made in France, and cost £200.” The prudent Pepys occasionally regrets in his patron a magnificence and generosity pushed to extravagance, which indeed caused great anxiety and trouble at different times, not only to himself but to his good wife and housewife, Jemima, and his trusty secretary. Likewise the noble Lord himself confessed, and lamented a taste for card playing.
The marriage of Charles II. with Katherine, daughter of the King of Portugal, being now agreed on, the King chose Lord Sandwich to be his proxy on the occasion, and to fetch over the new Queen from Lisbon, proceeding also to Algiers to settle affairs there. On arriving at Lisbon, Lord Sandwich detached Sir John Lawson, and ordered him to the Mediterranean to curb the insolence of the Corsairs, after which he himself proceeded to Tangiers, where he did some execution on the Turks, and managed his negociations so well, that the place was given up to him by the Portuguese, and Lord Peterborough was appointed Governor. Pains were afterwards taken to preserve the fortress, and a fine mole built: but in 1683, the King sent Lord Dartmouth to bring home the troops and destroy the work, and it fell into the hands of the Moors. There still exists a gate named after Lord Sandwich. “When at Lisbon my Lord sent over presents of mellons and rare grapes to his Countess in London; the grapes so fine that Mistress Pepys packed some up in a basket to send to the King’s Majesty.” Lady Sandwich also received a civet cat, parrot, apes, and many other eccentric proofs of her Lord’s remembrance, which she showed to Mr. Pepys when he dined with her at the Wardrobe.
The ambassador had some trouble with the matrimonial negociations, and “‘great clashing’ with the Portuguese Council, before he could get the portion paid. But the King of Portugall is a very foole almost, and his mother do all, and he is a poore prince.” The Queen was a great recluse on board and would never come on deck, but sent for Lord Sandwich’s “musique,” [he loved a band on board his vessel] and would sit within her cabin listening to it. Pepys did not admire the ladies her Majesty brought over, thought their farthingales a strange dress, and regrets that they have learned to kiss, and look up and down freely, already forgetting the recluse practice of their country. Queen Katherine gave no rewards to any of the captains or officers, save to “my Lord,” but that was an honourable present, a bag of gold worth £1400.
In the same year, 1662, “when the Duke of York went over to fetch the Queen Mother Henrietta Maria, they fell into foul weather and lost their cables, sayles and masts, but Mr. Coventry writes me word they are safe. Only my Lord Sandwich, who went before in the King’s yacht, they know not what is become of him;” which troubles his poor secretary much, “and there is great talk he is lost, but I trust in God the contrary.” A watery grave, indeed, awaited him, but after a nobler fashion. “He carried himself bravely in danger while my Lord Crofts did cry.”
The same faithful chronicler, although uneasy at his Lord’s predilection for play, and for the little regret he evinced at losing £50 to the King at my Lady Castlemaine’s, is never tired of extolling his magnanimity and forbearance, especially in the matter of his kinsman, Mr. Edward Montagu, with whom he had altercations, and “who did revile him to the King,” as was supposed; but “my Lord,” pitied and forgave him. He was an ill-conditioned man, and got into great disfavour at Court, “through his pride and affecting to be great with the Queen.” In 1663, my Lord leased a house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields for £250 per annum. He determined to go to sea once more, and confides to Pepys the state of his finances, having £8000 a year, and being in debt £10,000; but there is much due to him from the Wardrobe. In the middle of this discourse Lady Crewe came in to inform his Lordship another son was born to him, upon which the devout Samuel remarks, “May God send my Lord to study the laying up something for it.”