to a woman and a Princess, and particularly for me,
who have made it a rule, when I must converse with
royalties, to treat them with the greatest respect,
since it is all the court they will ever have from
me. I said to those on each side of me, “What
can I do? I cannot explain myself now.”
Well, I held my peace, and so did she for a quarter
of an hour. Then she began with me again, examined
me on the whole debate, and at last asked me directly,
which I thought the best speaker, my father or Mr.
Pitt. If possible, this was more distressing
than her anger. I replied, it was impossible
to compare two men so different: that I believed
my father was more a man of business than Mr. Pitt.
“Well, but Mr. Pitt’s language?”
“Madam,” said I, “I have always
been remarkable for admiring Mr. Pitt’s language.”
At last, this unpleasant scene ended; but as we were
going away, I went close to her, and said, “Madam,
I must beg leave to explain myself; your royal highness
has seemed to be very angry with me, and I am sure
I did not mean to offend you: all I intended
to say was, that I supposed Tories were Whigs when
they got places!” “Oh!” said she,
“I am very much obliged to you; indeed, I was
very angry.” Why she was angry, or what
she thought I meaned, I do not know to this moment,
unless she supposed that I would have hinted that the
Duke of Newcastle and the opposition were not men of
consummate virtue, and had lost their places out of
principle. The very reverse was at that time
in my head; for I meaned that the Tories would be
just as loyal as the Whigs, when they got any thing
by it.
You will laugh at my distresses, and in truth they
are little serious yet they almost put me out of humour.
If your cousin realizes his fair words to you, I
shall be very good-humoured again. I am not
so morose as to dislike my friends for being in place;
indeed, if they are in great place, my friendship goes
to sleep like a paroli at pharaoh, and does not wake
again till their deal is over. Good night!
Dear sir, You are always abundantly kind to me, and
pass my power of thanking you. You do nothing
but give yourself trouble and me presents. My
cousin Calthorpe is a great rarity, and I think I
ought, therefore, to return him to you; but that would
not be treating him like a relation,
or you like a friend. My ancestor’s epitaph,
too, was very agreeable to me.
I have not been at Strawberry Hill these three weeks.
My maid is ill there, and I have not been well myself
with the same flying gout in my stomach and breast,
of which you heard me complain a little in the summer.
I am much persuaded to go to a warmer climate, which
often disperses these unsettled complaints. I
do not care for it, nor can determine till I see I
grow worse: if I do (To, I hope it will not be
for long; and you shall certainly hear again before
I set out.
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