munity has, at any time, invested with power. The nor of benevolence. It flowed from a total freedom writer, who surrounds his story with graces not pro- from kingly, or any other description of pride or hauperly belonging to it, and palms upon the world the teur, from an easy companionable temper, and a senbright conceptions of his genius for the actual person-sitiveness of disposition, which made him almost inages of the drama, is guilty of an outrage upon truth, stinctively to feel, and, feeling, to be distressed at any and an injury to society. The Memoires de Grammont constraint, or unpleasant sensations, on the part of have done their part to adorn profligacy, and commu-others-a tenderness strangely contrasted with his nicate the charm of elegance to that which was, in fact, mere heartless debauchery, and worse brutality. The author of Waverley, at this day, appears bent upon perpetuating and even augmenting the delusion. He has drawn a picture of Charles II. en couleur de rose; and discountenanced virtue by recommending vice. We contemplated a comparison in detail between the fictions of these writers, and the realities contained in the diaries of Evelyn and Pepys. But for this we have not space. We recommend the reader, who has taken his ideas of manners from the pictures above mentioned, or of characters from Hume, to contrast his former views with those which these contemporary works will suggest. We shall content ourselves with gleaning a few characteristic notices of the most celebrated individuals of the period, without venturing too deeply into the gulf of vice and iniquity that opens to our view.

callous and cold-blooded heart. The lives of kings, who happen fortunately to be dead to the pleasures of ambition, are in general of a uniform insipidity, monotonous by reason of an established etiquette, and unfavourable to the sincere enjoyment of social pleasures. But this king's had been a life of jeopardy and adventures. He had known the extremities of good and bad fortune. He had seen various countries, and communicated with a great variety of characters. He had much to reflect upon and much to relate. The recollection of all this-the sour faces, and long prayers, and watchful jealousy of the Covenanters-the narrow escapes at Worcester-the privations and distresses of his exile-must have rendered his return to power not only a political triumph, but a source of personal enjoyment, altogether without a parallel in the history of princes. His naturally courteous deportment, rendered doubly gracious by the policy of cultivating popularity, as well as by the sun-shiny mood of mind in which he may be supposed to have been at a period of prosperity so unlooked for, were seen to advantage in his intercourse with those who flocked in shoals to his presence. Heart-expanding smiles, kind and familiar inquiries, good-natured nods of pretended recognition, and kisses of the hand repaid by cordial embraces, were, to all who partook of them, sure pledges of an auspicious reign. "They two got the child and me (the others not being able to crowd in) to see the king, who kissed the child very affectionately." The sight of a king at his meals has always

Charles II.-The character of this person is marked by peculiarities so striking, that, like his harsh ill-favoured physiognomy, it is recognised at once in every attempt at a portraiture. If, however, the additional information recently afforded us, throws no new light upon the subject, it at least enables us to inspect it more closely, and discriminate its shades more nicely. It must be remembered that the period, during which these incidental notices respecting him were registered, was the most auspicious of his life and reign. Age had not yet deprived him of the zest for enjoyment; opposition had not yet fretted his temper; loyalty was still the order of the day; and in the licentious-been considered worth something; but what must have ness of his court, men beheld only a pleasing contrast been the delight of every loyal subject then and there to the austerity, which had recently prevailed in the present, after the long privation under which the good seat of government. We can easily conceive the im- people of England had laboured of spectacles so truly pression his first appearance must have made upon the gratifying, to behold his majesty at breakfast on shiphearts of a people predisposed to excessive loyalty; board, eating pease, pork, and boiled beef, with a relieved as the gaiety and airiness of his demeanour heartiness, which shewed that his preference of those were by the gloom and solemnity of the late republi- marine dainties was not feigned but sincere. How can rulers. No one ever knew so well, or practised many a bosom, that morning, must have been dilated so gracefully, those little attentions that are apt to de- with the swelling emotions of loyalty, and how many light, beyond measure, all who are unhacknied in the an inspiration of unalterable devotion breathed by the ways of courts, and to inspire them with ardent at-by-standers, as they beheld the savoury viands distachment to the person of the monarch. It is usually appearing down his royal throat. held to be a prerogative of royalty, to be raised above the necessity of shewing deference or respect to the feelings of others. In this kind of consideration for his subjects Charles was not deficient, though it was a respect which extended not to their persons, or their purses. His courtesy was the result neither of art, VOL. XXXIII.—MAY, 1838.

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His alertness, too, gave great satisfaction to those who had been led to expect in him the idle habits of self-indulgence. He walked up and down the vessel, active and stirring, with a quick step, that betokened alacrity of mind and soundness of body; chatted first with this person, and then with that; and told stories

or even in a state procession, he would nod to him with the easy familiarity of an equal; and if the gentleman happened to have his wife with him, and she were handsome, he would cast on the husband a glance of significant meaning.

If he could not preserve the formal solemnity, which the rules of etiquette dictated, in public, it was still less to be expected that he should observe them in private. Thus, after he had ordered his guards and coach to be ready to conduct him to the park, or wherever else the gay world happened to be assembled, perhaps, if the

on the quarter-deck, of his adventures. At this time, I that divided the royal box from that in which the ladies his stories had an advantage, which, of course, they sat. If he saw an acquaintance, at play, in the park, did not long retain, of being quite new; for it was the misfortune of Charles, as well as of his friends, that they grew old long before he grew weary of telling them. The subject of his present discourse was his escape from Worcester; and the gentle audience were disposed almost to weep at the narrative. He related, how he had travelled four days and three nights, on foot, every step up to the knees in dirt, dressed in a green coat and a pair of country breeches, with hobnailed shoes, which lamed him so, that he was scarcely able to drag one foot after the other:-how, at one public-house, a soldier of his own regiment at Wor-whim took possession of him, he would call for a sculrester made him drink the king's health; and how, at another, they made him undergo the like ceremony, in order that they might know he was not a Roundhead, which they swore he was:-finally, how, when he had at length effected his passage over into France, the people of the inn at Rouen, so beggarly was his appearance, came into the room before he left it, to be sure that he had not stolen something or other.

The merit of affability and courtesy he never lost; indeed, his graver subjects were disposed to think him but too condescending. At first, he seems to have assumed a kind of gravity, as becoming the exalted state to which he had been called. Thus, he touched people for the evil, in compliance with the humour of our wise ancestors, and evinced neither nausea, nor any inclination to mirth. Afterwards, he seems to have neglected this important business of state. Another of his duties was to wash the feet of the poor, on what was called Maundy Thursday; but he generally deputed a bishop to act for him in that honourable office. On the most solemn state occasions, he could not play the king with any thing like effect. When he delivered his speeches to parliament, he seldom or never looked off the paper from which he read; and even his style of reading was hesitating and imperfect, with a frequent school-boylike repetition of his words. If he ever attempted an extempore oration, it was invariably short, ill-expressed, and silly; often saying one thing and meaning another; then recollecting himself, and correcting what he had previously said. One day, a justice of peace repaired to Whitehall, on the occasion of a riot, which had for its object the pulling down those places. He reported his proceedings; and, speaking of the brothels, added, they were one of the grievances of the nation. To this the king answered, coldly, and with insipidity, "Why, why, do they go to them, then?" This was said like Charles; but not, to use the words of Sir W. Temple, on another occasion, "like a king." At church or chapel, he could never preserve his gravity, when the sermon happened to afford subject for merriment. He would laugh outright there, as well as elsewhere; and would dally with Madame Palmer through the curtains

ler and a pair of oars, and row himself down to Somerset House, to visit the Duchess of Richmond; and, on these occasions, if he did not find the garden door open, he would clamber over the wall. When that lady was only Mrs. Stewart, it constituted one of his prime amusements to get her, even in public, into a corner, and toy with her there, to the observation of all the company.

"Is the king below?" meaning in Mrs. Stewart's apartment, during the period of her residence at court, was the usual query of his brother and his other intimates, when they wanted to see him.

He was often met of a morning trudging home alone, and on foot, to Whitehall, on his return from some assignation, which he had been keeping on the previous night. The sentries, stationed on their various posts, used to jest upon his outgoings and in-comings to one another; and the man of business, early in his attendance at Whitehall, was often surprised to encounter his majesty, apparently a riser as early as himself.

A gay unconcern and insouciance distinguished his deportment on all occasions alike. At the council, he would jest instead of minding business, and play with his dog, if there happened to be nobody to jest with, or nothing to cut a joke upon. His ordinary amusements were playing at tennis, and weighing himself afterwards, to ascertain how much he had lost in weight-sauntering in the Mall, or idling away his mornings at the toilette of his favourites-dancing whole nights, and, occasionally, getting very drunkhearing anthems in his chapel, and keeping time to the music with his head and hand-visiting the Tower by water, to inspect the arms; and the docks, to enjoy the sight of a vessel built upon a new model, or with some improvement, perhaps, of his own suggestion-going to the play, and ogling the handsome women-and, in lack of all other amusements, gossiping with any body and every body, telling long stories of the French and Spanish courts, and, like good old Kent, "marring a curious tale in telling it."

Lady Castlemaine.-Lord Sandwich once extolling

to some of his intimates, that he would go no more abroad with this Tom Otter (meaning the duke) and his wife. Tom Killigrew, who was present, said, "Sir, pray what is the best for a man, to be a Tom Otter to his wife or his mistress?" Indeed, the king had grown heartily weary of Castlemaine, and her caprices, long before he could assume courage to break the chains, with which she had bound him.

his house-keeper's cakes, observed they were so good, safed no other answer than a slighting puh! with her that they were fit to present to my Lady Castlemaine. mouth, or a threat, that she would print his letters, and The charms of her person appear to have been sensi- expose him to the world. Her custom, on these occably felt by her contemporaries. To look upon her, sions, was to leave the palace, and retire into lodgwas a treat that compensated even for a dull play and ings; whence his majesty, in the course of a day or bad performers. The dress, which she at any time two, would prevail upon her, by some act of self-abasewore, seemed always that which became here best. ment, as going on his knees and acknowledging his Standing one day in the open air, to see a procession fault, to return to Court. The very people in the of barges on the Thames, anon, says our observer, streets would exclaim, "the king cannot leave town till there came up to her one booted and spurred, with my Lady Castlemaine be ready to go along with him." whom she talked awhile. And, by and by, the wind When her women happened to quarrel, she would discomposing her tresses, she put on his hat, which, cause the king to interfere, and make them friends though but an ordinary one, became her mightily, as, again. The Duke of York, his amours, and the subindeed, every thing else did that she wore. It was jection in which his wife held him, appear to have strange to see her lord and her on the same spot, walk-been standing jests with the king. Reflecting upon ing up and down, without taking the least notice of his brother's matrimonial servitude, he observed once each other; only, at first entry, he put off his hat to her, which she acknowledged by a civil salute. On this occasion, there occurred an incident which betokened in her some goodness of heart. A scaffold, crowded with people, gave way, and it was feared some were injured. She alone, of all the great ladies, ran down into the throng, to see what harm had been sustained; and there she took under her protection a child that had received a slight hurt. The high spirit of this woman discovered itself at first only in amusing eccentricities. One night, the king being with her at Bath, the cook came to announce that supper could not be served up, because the chine of beef could not be roasted, the tide having risen and flooded the kitchen, "Zounds!" exclaimed she, "set the house on fire, so it be roasted." The Duke of Buckingham had made a private entertainment for the king and queen, to which she was not invited. "Well, much good may it do them," said she, "and, for all that, I will be as merry as they;" and immediately she caused a great supper to be prepared. Afterwards, when her sway over the king had become despotical, and the royal slave began to grow restive, and evince symptoms of a disposition to rebel, we are treated with bursts of insolence, ebullitions of passion, and a desperate defiance of decorum and propriety. "Many brave ladies in the park to-day; among others, Castlemaine lay impudently upon her back, in her coach, asleep, with her mouth open." Her disputes with the king, and their mutual infidelities, became, in the latter part of their intercourse, open and avowed. He would sometimes give her foul words-call her jade, that meddled with things she had no business with; a compliment she returned, by terming him a fool that allowed himself to be governed by fools. People observed to one another, how imperious this woman was; how she hectored the king into doing whatever she pleased, and that her influence over him was not that of a mistress, for she evidently scorned him, but of a tyrant. Sometimes, he taxed her with her infidelities; to which she vouch

Queen Catherine-In the midst of all this courtship and gallantry passing under her very eye, the queen appears to have led an easy careless life, without troubling her head very much about the vagaries of her partner. He was civil to her; and, in the ordinary observances of the matrimonial life, an exemplary husband. She, in return, after her first disappointment had been digested at finding herself a mere appendage to the court, became discreet and tractable. She would bid Castlemaine not detain the king so long at her house, for the weather was severe, and the distance from Whitehall considerable, and his majesty was already troubled with a cold. At the period when Charles was solely occupied with courting Mrs. Stewart, she would pause a moment, before entering the apartment of the latter, who was one of her maids of honour, and by some slight cough, or other signal, make them aware of her approach. She had once, it is said, broken in upon them somewhat unseasonably. To take the air with her ladies, sit finely dressed on great occasions, dance eternally, and pay her devotions

she was a great devotee-were the ordinary amusements of Catherine of Braganza. Like the lady of Commodore Trunnion, to fancy herself about to become a mother, and amuse herself with vain hopes, was another of her recreations. The poor lady fell illwas thought to be at the last extremity-pigeons were applied to the soles of her feet, and extreme unction administered. All the court was on tip-toe with expectations-the little Stewart's heart beat with unusual violence, and the duke's friends prayed with more than ordinary fervour, for "the queen, and all the

royal family." The crisis, however, passed over. She a smile or a frown was life or death to his hopes. To

fell into a gentle delirium, and it was observed by those around her, how the wishes of her heart were expressed in the wanderings of her distempered fancy. She would talk of having one, two-nay, three children; only she was sorry that the boy should be so ugly. "Yet, his majesty said, no, it was a very pretty boy; and, indeed, if it was so like himself, as people said, it would be pretty, &c." On awaking, she would start, and inquire, with eagerness, "how are the children?"

be sent for by his majesty to my Lady Castlemaine's, to play at cards, was happiness; and he professed himself glad at any time to lose fifty pounds to be so invited. We find him always calculating the chance of this person rising, or that person falling; and considering to whom he ought to adhere, whom it was his interest to abandon; with whom he stood well or ill, and upon whose friendship he would reckon on an emergency. His kindness to Lady Castlemaine, he The following extract presents a lively idea of the apprehended, had brought upon him the queen's discourt of Charles II. in its glory; and we give it in this pleasure; but then, why should he fall for the sake of place, because the persons, whose characters we have one, who had neither wit, management, nor interest, to been discussing, are the principal figures of the piece. hold up any one? He had brought her over from There is a reality in the few descriptive touches that Portugal, and had, doubtless, employed his opporoccur, which gives this rough sketch a value that does tunity of paying court to her to advantage. But when not always belong to delineations much more elaborate. it turned out, that she, poor lady, instead of being able In our opinion, it is worth a chapter of De Grammont. to afford countenance, stood in need of some one to "July 13th, 1663. Walking in the Pall Mall, I met countenance her, my lord thought himself no longer the queen-mother, led by my lord St. Alban's, and under any obligation to stand by her against his own hearing that the king and queen are rode abroad with interests. How anxious, too, he shews himself, to the ladies of honour to the park, and seeing a great fasten an obligation upon any one whom he considered crowd of gallants staying here to see her return, I also staid, walking up and down. By and by, the king and a person likely to rise at court-sorry, for example, that queen, who looked in this dress (a white-laced waistcoat, Sir H. Bennet had declined his present of a gold cup, and a crimson short petticoat, and her hair dressed à la because that would have given him some claim upon negligence) mighty pretty; and the king rode hand-in-his kind offices; whereas it was to be feared, that Sir hand with her. Here was also my Lady Castlemaine rode H. had refused his gift in order to avoid any such among the rest of the ladies; but the king took, methought, no notice of her; nor, when she did light, did any body press (as she seemed to expect, and staid for it) to take her down, but was taken down by her own gentleman. She looked mighty out of humour, and had a yellow plume in her hat, (which all took notice of,) and yet is very handsome, but very melancholy: nor did any body speak to her, or she so much as smile or speak to any body. I followed them up into Whitehall, and into the queen's presence, where all the ladies walked, talking and fiddling with their hats and feathers, and changing and trying one another's, by one another's heads, and laughing. But it was the finest sight to me, considering their great beauty and dress, that ever I did see in all my life. But, above all, Mrs. Stewart in this dress, with her hat cocked and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent taille, is now the greatest beauty I ever saw, I think, in my life; and, if ever woman can, do exceed my Lady Castlemaine, at least in this dress: nor do I wonder if the king changes, which, I verily believe, is the reason of his coldness to my Lady Castlemaine."

Lord Sandwich. This nobleman, of a weak, and not very high principled, but amiable character, seems to have aimed at uniting, in his person, the man of pleasure and the man of business, and serving his majesty in both capacities alike. The miserable anxiety of a courtier's life is well exemplified in his history:-"O! how wretched is that poor man, who hangs on princes' favours!" He moved, apparently, up and down the court like one walking on slippery ground, and constantly in apprehension of a fall. Dependent entirely on the hold which he was able to keep of the king's mutable favour,

claim. Then, there was the risk of having to reconcile opposite interests and friendships, and the difficulty of steering safely between parties to whom he was under equal obligation. Thus, when the faction of Bennett and of Lord Bristol were driving so furiously against the Chancellor, that his downfall began to be apprehended, Lord Sandwich found himself in a dilemma of the nature above described. He acknowledged that Clarendon had been his greatest friend; and, therefore, he would not join in any active measures against him; but keep aloof from both parties alike, and "passively carry himself even." For the rest of his character, he was always needy, because he never lived within compass; in religion, a lover of uniformity in churchservice and discipline-otherwise, "wholly sceptical;" and a gambler.

The Duke of Albemarle.-This individual retained his influence at court, for whose meridian his coarse and vulgar manners and conversation might otherwise have disqualified him, solely on the ground of his services at the Restoration. It was in this style that he would talk:-De Ruyter was bearing down upon his ship, with an evident design of giving him a broadside. "Now," says he (chewing tobacco the while,) "will this fellow come, and give me two broadsides, and then he shall run." On the contrary, De Ruyter held him to it two hours, till the duke himself was forced to retreat, and be towed off, the Dutchman staying till he had refitted his vessel. One on board observed to the

thraldom under which his majesty lay, we may form some conception from the ecstacy into which the court was thrown when the great seal was, at length, returned by the hands of secretary Morrice. As soon as it was brought, Baptist May, keeper of the privy purse, fell upon his knees before the king, caught him about the legs, gave him joy, and said that this was the first

duke, "Sir, methinks De Ruyter hath given us more | tance to visit his cousin, the chief justice. Of the than two broadsides." "Well," rejoined the duke, "but you shall find him run by and by." And so, indeed, he did; but not till Albemarle himself had first been made to retreat. That paragon of beauty and virtue, his wife, was equally notorious for selling every office that she could lay her hands upon, as for giving nasty dirty dinners. Albemarle fell, latterly, as low in the estimation of people, as he had once stood un-day they could call him King of England, now that he deservedly high; and received one or two slights from was freed from this great man. the king, which affected him more than the loss of credit. However, he consoled himself with his bottle. "He is grown a drunken sot, and drinks with nobody but Troutbecke, whom nobody else will keep company with." There was a story abroad, at the time, that these two worthies being at their cups, Albemarle ex-Though the king replied to these, and similar intimapressed his wonder that "Nan Hyde should have come to be Duchess of York;" "Nay," returned Troutbecke, "ne'er wonder at that; for if you will give me another bottle, I will tell you a greater miracle." And what was that, but that "our dirty Bess (meaning his duchess) should come to be Duchess of Albemarle!"

Some busy meddling peer, once told the king, that the chancellor had openly declared his majesty to be a "lazy person, and unfit to govern." "Why," returned Charles, "that is no news, for he hath told me so twenty times, and but the other day he told me so."

tions, which the courtiers were not backward in giving him, with his usual sang-froid, they did not the less rankle in his breast. The evil day at length fell upon Clarendon, and the king was at liberty to discharge his bosom of the gall, that had been so long engendering. He then spoke of him to every body, as "that insolent fellow," who would not let him have a voice at his own council-board; and he sought his ruin with such eager avidity, that every one, who was not seen to promote the same end, was openly discountenanced and marked as an enemy. That while the chancellor was so great, there was no liberty to propose any remedy to what was amiss, nor room to bring any measure about for the good of the kingdom, was a complaint universally urged against Clarendon.

Lord Chancellor Clarendon.-Clarum et venerabile nomen; but only one more example of the truth of that Scripture, which saith, "every man is but vanity, and a great man is a lie." His authority in government may be considered as having been quite absolute, during the first years of his administration. But it was the king's belief, that he could not dispense with his policy and services, that alone preserved his ascendancy so long. He loved the chancellor neither as a companion, nor as a friend; and grew at length, from the latter's domineering spirit, to hate him inveterately. This overweening pride on the part of Clarendon, and his assumption of superiority, together with a contempt for the judgment of others, which he was at no pains to conceal, more than all his other failings together, recommended that minister to the hearty dislike of his contemporaries. At the council board, and elsewhere, he always intimated plainly enough what he has clearly felt, that the rest of the persons present were immeasurably below him. His manner of speaking was rather that of one informing his company of something which he knew well enough himself, but of which they were entirely ignorant, than of a cabinet minister in consultation with his colleagues. The king evidently submitted to him, as a school boy to his master. Thus, when that feather-brained nobleman, Lord Bristol, was playing off some of his stage-tricks in the house of lords, and his majesty was under some apprehensions in consequence, he is described as running up and down, and to and from, the chancellor's, like a boy. Another circumstance, that excited the sinister remarks "He did begin a most solemn profession of the same of the malevolent, was his making the king trot every told me what a misfortune was fallen upon him and me; love and confidence in me that he ever had, and then day to him, when he himself, though too ill to come to in me, by a displeasure which my Lord Chancellor did council, was well enough to go a much greater dis-shew to him last night against me, in the highest and

Whilst the chancellor, by his lofty bearing, thus gave general and deep-rooted offence, he does not appear to have been in another respect sufficiently careful to fortify himself against the malice of those who sought his destruction. It was the opinion even of unprejudiced persons at the time, that of the numerous charges brought against Clarendon, two, but no more, were capable of being substantiated;-one, that he had taken money for several bargains that had been made with the crown, of which one instance was particularly specified; and next, that he had uttered before the king, and others, words calculated to breed in his majesty an ill opinion of parliament-that they were factious, and so forth. The notes of Mr. Pepys, to which we owe these new lights upon the characters of Clarendon and of his contemporaries, furnish us with a curious instance of that minister's grasping propensities. The narrative is highly characteristic of all the persons concerned. Lord Sandwich, to whom Mr. Pepys was a kind of humble friend, had sent for that gentleman, to have some conversation with him: