secret services; if the navy office was in chronic disorder in the earlier part, of the reign (Wheatley, 128–58; Dalrymple, ii. 1, 103–110), neither were the salaries of the royal household paid with regularity, but are found on occasion all in arrear, at periods varying from one to three years (Secret Services of Charles II, vi–viii.)
Charles II was endowed by nature with an excellent intellect. Halifax praises his admirable memory and his strong power of observation, and says that whenever one of his ministers fell, the king was always at hand with a full inventory of his faults. His quickness of apprehension was extraordinary, and was the chief source of his wit. Many of his witticisms were seasoned with a very gross salt which, even in a court whose conversation was indescribably coarse, struck the critical as not reconcilable with his usual good breeding. His ordinary courtiers found fault rather with his inveterate habit of telling stories, especially concerning his adventures after Worcester; he wearied even Pepys (2 Jan. 1668), but probably unconsciously, for Burnet (i. 170) calls him an everlasting talker. He understood both French and Italian, though he does not appear to have written the former very idiomatically (Clarendon, vii. 64); Latin he seems not to have read with ease (Schwerin, 314). He is asserted (by Cook, 500–1) to have been well versed in historical and political literature, as well as in English law and divinity. He had a liking for polite literature, and for the drama more especially. His literary judgments show much discernment, and he encouraged the stage. He was a buyer of pictures, and had a strong taste for architecture; in the history of which art, even more than in that of portrait painting, in England his reign forms a memorable epoch. But, curiously enough, the bent of his intellect was rather in the direction of physical science, nor is it inappropriate that the Royal Society should have been founded, though not projected, in his reign. He knew, says Evelyn, of many empirical medicines, and the easier mechanical mathematics. With his interest in the former his anxiety for his health may have had much to do, and with the latter his love of ships and shipbuilding, for he was constantly it Sheerness and on the fleet, and took great pleasure in his yachts (Cal. 1660–1661). But Pepys tells us that he was fond of seeing dissections (11 May 1669), and describes his celebrated chemical laboratory as a pretty place (15 Jan. 1669). His liking for chemistry, which he had shared with his cousin Prince Rupert, was longlived; in the very month of his death he was engaged in experiments in the production of mercury (Wheatley, 167; cf. Burnet, i. 169). He had, too, a fondness for curiosities, which he caused to be collected for his cabinet at foreign courts (Cal. 1660–1, 499; cf. ib. 390). His favourite bodily exercise was walking; in his youth he was a good dancer, and even after the Restoration he excelled at tennis (Wheatley, 229; cf. Hatton Correspondence, i. 189). Both before and after his return he liked hunting, and it was for this pastime, but more especially for the horse-races, that Newmarket was his favourite resort (see Savile Correspondence, 271, and note; cf. Reresby, 288).
When after the battle of Worcester a reward of 1,000l. was offered for the capture of Charles Stuart, he was described as 'a tall man, above two yards high, his hair a deep brown, near to black' (Cal. 1651, 476). This corresponds to Marvell's famous description of him (Grosart's Marvell, i. 343) as 'of a tall stature and of sable hue.' In 'A Cavalier's Note-book,' 90, there is a curious anecdote of his measuring his height in the cabin of the Naseby on his return to England, and of its exceeding that of any other person on board (cf. Pepys, 26 May 1660; Cunningham, 74, however, states him to have measured five feet ten inches only). The king's swarthy complexion (Evelyn speaks of his 'fierce countenance'), with its effect heightened by the dark periwig, is the most distinctive feature of all his portraits. Of these the National Portrait Gallery contains three, of which one is by John Greenhill, another by Mrs. Beale, while a third, an allegorical piece, is attributed to Sir Peter Lely.
