Brief Lives, Vol. 2

George Monk (1608-1670).

[319]G. M[320]. was borne at ... in Devon (vide Devon in Heralds' Office), a second son of ..., an ancient familie, and which had about Henry 8's time 10,000 li. per annum (as he himselfe sayd).

He was a strong, lusty, well-sett young fellow; and in his youth happened to slay a man[XXVI.], which was the occasion of his flying into the Low-countries, where he learned to be a soldier.

At the beginning of the late civill warres, he came over to the king's side, where he had command (quaere in what part of England).

Anno ... he was prisoner in the Tower, where his semstres, Nan Cl<arges> (a blacksmith's[XXVII.] daughter), was kind to him; in a double capacity. It must be remembred that he then was in want[XXVIII.], and she assisted him. Here she was gott with child. She was not at all handsome, nor cleanly. Her mother was one of the five woemen barbers.

Anno ... (as I remember, 1635) there was a maried woman in Drury-lane that had clapt (i.e. given the pox to) a woman's husband, a neighbor of hers. She complained of this to her neighbour gossips. So they concluded on this revenge, viz. to gett her and whippe her and ...; which severities were executed and put into a ballad. 'Twas the first ballad I ever cared for the reading of: the burden of it was thus:—

Vide the Ballad-booke[321].

Anno ... her brother, T<homas> Cl<arges>, came a ship-board to G. M. and told him his sister was brought to bed. 'Of what?' sayd he. 'Of a son.' 'Why then,' sayd he, 'she is my wife.' He had only this child.

Anno.., (I have forgott by what meanes) he gott his libertie, and an employment under Oliver (I thinke) at sea, against the Dutch, where he did good service; he had courage enough. But I remember the sea-men would laugh, that in stead of crying Tack about, he would say Wheele to the right (or left).

Anno 16.. he had command in Scotland (vide his life), where he was well beloved by his soldiers, and, I thinke, that country (for an enemie). Oliver, Protector, had a great mind to have him home, and sent him a fine complementall letter, that he desired <him> to come into England to advise with him. He sent his highnesse word, that if he pleased he would come and waite upon him at the head of 10,000 men. So that designe was spoyled.

Anno 1659/60, Febr. 10th (as I remember), being then sent for by the Parliament to disband Lambert's armie, he came into London with his army about one a clock P.M.[XXIX.] He then sent to the Parliament this letter, which[322], printed, I annex here. Shortly after he was sent for to the Parliament house; where, in the howse, a chaire was sett for him, but he would not (in modestie) sitt downe in it. The Parliament (Rumpe[XXX.]) made him odious to the citie, purposely, by pulling down and burning their gates (which I myselfe sawe). The Rumpe invited him to a great dinner, Febr. ... (shortly after); from whence it was never intended that he should have returned (of this I am assured by one of that Parliament). The members stayd till 1, 2, 3, 4 a clock, but at last his excellency sent them word he could not come: I beleeve he suspected some treacherie.

You must now know that long before these dayes, colonel <Edward> Massey, and Thomas Mariett, of Whitchurch in Warwickshire, esqre, held correspondence with his majestie, who wrote them letters with his owne hand, which I have seen. Both these were now in London privately. Tom Mariett laye with me (I was then of the Middle Temple); G. M. lay at Draper's hall[323] in Throckmorton-street. Col. Massey (Sir Edward afterwards), and T. Mariett every day were tampering with G. M., as also col. <John> Robinson (afterward Liewtenant of the Tower: whom I remember they counted not so wise as King Salomon); and they could not find any inclination or propensity in G. M. for their purpose, scil. to be instrumentall to bring in the king. Every night late, I had an account of all these transactions abed, which like a sott as I was, I did not, while fresh in memorie, committ to writing, as neither has T. M.[XXXI.]: but I remember in the maine, that they were satisfied he no more intended or designed the king's restauration, when he came into England, or first came to London, then his horse did. But shortly after finding himselfe at a losse; and that he was (purposely) made odious to the citie, as aforesayd—and that he was a lost man—by the Parliament; and that the generality of the citie and country were for the restoring the king, having long groaned under the tyranny of other governments; he had no way to save himselfe but to close with the citie, etc., again. Memorandum that Thredneedle-street was all day long, and late at night, crammed with multitudes, crying out A free Parliament, a free Parliament, that the aire rang with their clamours[324]. One evening, viz. Feb.... (quaere diem) he comeing out on horseback[325], they were so violent that he was almost afrayd of himselfe, and so, to satisfie them (as they use to doe to importunate children), Pray be quiet, yee shall have a free Parliament. This about 7, or rather 8 as I remember at night. Immediately a loud holla and shout was given, all the bells in <the> city ringing, and the whole citie looked as if it had been in a flame by the bonfires, which were prodigiously great and frequent and ran like a traine over the citie, and I sawe some balcone's that began to be kindled. They made little gibbetts, and roasted[326] rumpes of mutton; nay, I sawe some very good rumpes of beefe[327]. Healths to the king, Charles II, were dranke in the streets by the bonfires, even on their knees; and this humor ran by the next night to Salisbury, where was the like joy; so to Chalke, where they made a great bonfire on the top of the hill; from hence to Blandford and Shaftesbury, and so to the Land's-end: and perhaps it was so over all England. So that the return of his most gracious majestie was by the hand of God[XXXII.]; but as by this person meerly accidentall, whatever the pompous History in 8vo. sayes (printed at ... opposite to St. Dunstan's church: quaere if not writt by Sir Thomas Clargies, brother to her Grace, formerly an apothecary; and was physician to his army, and 1660 was created M. Dr., who commonly at Coffee-houses uses to pretend strange things, of his contrivances, and bringing-on of his brother-in-lawe to ...).

Well! A free Parliament was chosen, and mett the ... of.... Sir Harbottle Grimston, knight and baronet, was chosen Speaker. The first thing he putt to the question was, 'Whether Charles Steward should be sent for, or no?' 'Yea, yea,' nemine contradicente. Sir John Greenvill (now earle of Bathe) was then in towne, and posted away to Bruxells; found the king at dinner, little dreaming of so good newes, rises presently from dinner, had his coach immediately made readie, and that night gott out of the king of Spaine's dominions into the prince of Orange's country, I thinke, Breda[XXXIII.].

Now, as the morne growes lighter and lighter, and more glorious, till it is perfect day, so[329]it was with the joy of the people. Maypoles, which in the hypocriticall times, 'twas ... to sett-up, now were sett up in every crosse-way: and at the Strand, neer Drury-lane, was sett-up the most prodigious one for height, that (perhaps) was ever seen; they were faine (I remember) to have the assistance of the sea-men's art to elevate it; that which remaines (being broken with a high wind anno ..., I thinke about 1672) is but two parts of three of the whole height from the grownd, besides what is in the earth. The juvenile and rustique folkes at that time had so much their fullnesse of desires in this kind, that I thinke there have been very few sett-up since. The honours conferred on G. M. every one knowes.

His sence might be good enough, but he was slow, and heavie. He dyed anno ... and had a magnificent funerall, suitable to his greatnesse. His figure in his robes was very artificially donne, which lay in a catafalco under a canopie, in or neer the east end of Westminster abby, a moneth or 6 weekes. Seth Ward, lord bishop of Sarum (his great acquaintance), preached his funerall sermon, which is printed for.... His eldest brother dyed sine prole, about the time of the King's returne. His other brother, <Nicholas Monk[330]> was made bishop of Hereford. G. M. and his duchess dyed within a day or two of each other. The bishop of Sarum told me that he did the last office of a confessor to his grace; and closed his eies, as his lordship told me himselfe.

Some moneths before G. M.'s comeing into England, the king sent Sir Richard Grenvill (since earl of Bath) to him to negotiate with him that he would doe him service, and to correspond with him. Said he, 'If opportunity be, I will doe him service; but I will not by any meanes have any correspondence[331] with him'; and he did like a wise man in it; for if he had he would certainly have been betrayed.

'Twas shrewd advice which <William> Wyld, then Recorder of London, gave to the citizens, i.e. to keep their purse-strings fast; els, the Parliament would have payed the army and kept out the king.

He was first an ensigne, and after a captain, in the Lowe-countreys, and for making false musters was like to have been ... which he afterward did not forget:—from major Cosh.

This underneath was writt on the dore of the House of Commons.

Memorandum:—Mr. Baron Brampton hath invited me to his chamber to give me a farther account of generall Monk.—I[332] let slip the opportunity, and my honoured friend is dead.