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, Molière, 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 shaken to a quick
time. Gaily did his Majesty perform it, leading to the hot exercise Anne
Hyde, Duchess of York, stout and homely, and leaving Lady Castlemaine to
his son, the Duke of Monmouth. Then Charles, with ready grace, would
begin the coranto, taking a single lady in this dance along the gallery.
Lords and ladies one after another followed, and 'very noble,' writes
Pepys, 'and great pleasure it was to see.' Next came the country dances,