Now his manner was wholly different from His Majesty’s.  There was a courtesy always in Charles that was not in James; for the Duke said nothing as to his receiving me here in his deshabille, but began immediately to talk in a low voice.

“I am pleased that you are come to England, Mr. Mallock.  I have had news of you from Rome.”

Then he asked very properly of the Holy Father, and of a Cardinal or two that he knew; and I answered him as well as I could.  But I very soon saw that His Royal Highness wanted nothing like wit from me:  he was somewhat of a solemn man, and had great ideas of his rights, and that all men who were below his own station should keep their own.  He desired deference and attention above all things.

He spoke presently of Catholics in England.

“God hath blest us very highly,” he said, “both in numbers and influence.  But we can well do with more of both; for I never heard of any cause that could not.  There is a feeling against us in many quarters, but it is less considerable every year.  You are to attach yourself to His Majesty, I understand?”

“But I am to have no place or office, sir,” I said.  “I am rather to be at His Majesty’s disposal—­to fetch and carry, I may say, if he should need my services.”

His Highness looked at me sidelong and swiftly; and I understood that he did not wish any originality even in speech.

“We must all be discreet, however,” he said—­(though I suppose there was never any man less discreet than himself, especially when he most needed to be so).  “It is useless to say that we are altogether loved; for we are not.  But you will soon acquaint yourself with all our politics.”

I did not say that I had already done so; but assured him that I would do my best.

“As a general guide, I may say,” he went on; “where there is Whiggery, there is disloyalty, however much the Whigs may protest.  They say they desire a king as much as any; but it is not a king that they want, but his shadow only.”

He talked on in this manner for a little, for we had the Gallery to ourselves, telling me, what I knew very well already, that the Catholics and the High Churchmen were, as a whole, staunch Royalists; but that the rest, especially those of the old Covenanting blood, still were capable of mischief.  He did not tell me outright that it was largely against his own succession that the disaffection was directed; nor that the Duke of Monmouth was his rival; but he told me enough to show that my own information was correct enough, and that in the political matters my weight, such as it was, must be thrown on to the side of the Tories—­as the other party was nicknamed.  I understood, even in that first conversation with him, why he was so little loved; and I remembered, with inward mirth, how His Majesty once, upon being remonstrated with by his brother for walking out so freely without a guard, answered that he need have no fears; for “they will never kill me,” said he, “to set you upon the throne.”