not, however, recognize the gaiety of the man whose very name brings
with it associations of gaiety, politeness, good company, and all the
attributes of a first-rate wit, except the almost inevitable ill-nature.
There is in the physiognomy of Charles II. that melancholy which is
often observable in the faces of those who are mere men of pleasure.

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