By the King he was regarded as a father, and by the country as no less. "The body of the people," said the Bishop of Exeter in his funeral sermon, "loved and honoured him, nay (God forgive them), they believed and trusted in him." There was never an awkward job to be done, or failure to be rectified, or panic to be allayed, but the Duke of Albemarle was sent for like an old family doctor. Was there a powerful minister to be dismissed, the Duke had to break the news to him; the Treasury accounts got into confusion, and the Duke was put on to the commission to set them straight; the plague drove Court and Parliament from the capital, and he was left behind sitting in Whitehall with his life in his hand, seeing every one who presented himself day after day at a time when brother would hardly speak to brother, or husband to wife, and through the whole of that terrible period he managed in his own person army, navy, treasury, and police. The Duke of York failed as an admiral, and "old George" was asked if he would mind taking command. The great fire destroyed half London, and threw the country into a panic, and the King, in terror of a new revolution, had to beg "the sole pillar of the state" to come up from the fleet and restore confidence. The people openly said it never would have happened if the general had been there; and when the Dutch sailed into the Thames men seemed to think he had only to go down to Chatham for the enemy to scatter like chaff. As the country recovered from its fever of royalism, and began to look back first without disgust, then with regret to the days of Oliver, it saw in the Protector's old general the personification of all the glories of the Commonwealth. He stood out in startling contrast to the butterfly throng amongst whom he had his place, and the courtiers felt it. Every one laughed at the stupid old soldier for his homeliness, his mean establishment, his vulgar wife, and the dulness and lethargy which grew on him with his disease. But every one feared him also. Every request he pressed was granted as a matter of course. Even the King did not dare or care to give him a command, but always sounded him through Morice to ascertain whether he were willing to do what was wanted. To detail his endless services is here impossible. His greatest work was undoubtedly the disbanding of the great revolutionary army. Some sixty thousand men had to be loosed upon a country seething with the fanatical opinions which the army had made its own, and of which, in spite of Monk's purging, it still was full. Statesmen knew it was the great danger the restored monarchy had to face. To Monk the task was committed; and he did it not only peaceably, but so well that the disbanded soldiers, instead of being so many germs of disaffection, earned themselves, through the facilities the general was careful to provide for their employment, the reputation of being the best citizens in the State.