De Grammont found himself completely in his own sphere at Whitehall, where the habits were far more French than English.  Along that stately Mall, overshadowed with umbrageous trees, which retains—­and it is to be hoped ever will retain—­the old name of the ‘Birdcage Walk,’ one can picture to oneself the king walking so fast that no one can keep up with him; yet stopping from time to time to chat with some acquaintances.  He is walking to Duck Island, which is full of his favourite water-fowl, and of which he has given St. Evremond the government.  How pleasant is his talk to those who attend him as he walks along; how well the quality of good-nature is shown in his love of dumb animals:  how completely he is a boy still, even in that brown wig of many curls, and with the George and Garter on his breast!  Boy, indeed, for he is followed by a litter of young spaniels:  a little brindled greyhound frisks beside him; it is for that he is ridiculed by the ‘psalm’ sung at the Calves’ Head Club:  these favourites were cherished to his death.

    ’His dogs would sit in council boards
     Like judges in their seats: 
     We question much which had most sense,
     The master or the curs.’

Then what capital stories Charles would tell, as he unbent at night amid the faithful, though profligate, companions of his exile!  He told his anecdotes, it is true, over and over again, yet they were always embellished with some fresh touch—­like the repetition of a song which has been encored on the stage.  Whether from his inimitable art, or from his royalty, we leave others to guess, but his stories bore repetition again and again:  they were amusing, and even novel to the very last.

To this seducing court did De Grammont now come.  It was a delightful exchange from the endless ceremonies and punctilios of the region over which Louis XIV. presided.  Wherever Charles was, his palace appeared to resemble a large hospitable house—­sometimes town, sometimes country—­in which every one did as he liked; and where distinctions of rank were kept up as a matter of convenience, but were only valued on that score.

In other respects, Charles had modelled his court very much on the plan of that of Louis XIV., which he had admired for its gaiety and spirit.  Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, were encouraged by le Grand Monarque.  Wycherley and Dryden were attracted by Charles to celebrate the festivities, and to amuse the great and the gay.  In various points De Grammont found a resemblance.  The queen-consort, Catherine of Braganza, was as complacent to her husband’s vices as the queen of Louis.  These royal ladies were merely first sultanas, and had no right, it was thought, to feel jealousy, or to resent neglect.  Each returning sabbath saw Whitehall lighted up, and heard the tabors sound for a branle, (Anglicised ’brawl’).  This was a dance which mixed up everybody, and called a brawl, from the foot being