The Queen gave Lord Stair an audience one evening in her cabinet in Kensington Palace. He burst forth into violent invective against the Prime Minister, saying: “But, madam, though your Majesty knows nothing of this man but what he tells you himself, or what his creatures and flatterers, prompted by himself, tell you of him, yet give me leave to assure your Majesty that in no age, in no reign, in no country, was ever any Minister so universally odious as the man you support.... That he absolutely governs your Majesty nobody doubts, and very few scruple to say; they own you have the appearance of power, and say you are contented with the appearance, whilst all the reality of power is his, derived from the King, conveyed through you, and vested in him.” He then referred to a personal grievance he had against Walpole, in that Lord Isla, brother of the Duke of Argyll, had been preferred before him, and given important appointments which he (Lord Stair) ought to have filled. He quoted this as a proof of Walpole’s power over the Queen, and said: “For what cannot that man persuade you to, who can make _you_, madam, love a Campbell? The only two men in this country who ever vainly hoped or dared to attempt to set a mistress’s” (Mrs. Howard’s) “power up in opposition to yours were Lord Isla and his brother, the Duke of Argyll; yet one of the men who strove to dislodge you by this method from the King’s bosom is the man your favourite has thought fit to place the nearest to his.” This, however, was a little too much for the Queen, who was extremely sensitive of any mention of the peculiar relations which existed between Mrs. Howard and the King. She sharply rebuked Lord Stair, and desired him to remember that “he was speaking of the King’s servant, and to the King’s wife”. Lord Stair therefore said no more on that point, but proceeded forthwith to the excise scheme, declaring that it would be impossible to force the measure through the Lords, though corruption might carry it through the Commons. He added that even if it were possible to carry it into law, “yet, madam, I think it so wicked, so dishonest, so slavish a scheme, that my conscience would no more permit me to vote for it than his” (Walpole’s) “ought to have permitted him to project it”. The Queen again interrupted him by crying out: “Oh, my lord, don’t talk to me of your conscience; you make me faint!” This so nettled Lord Stair that he spoke plainer than ever. When he had quite talked himself out, it was the Queen’s turn to let Lord Stair know _her_ mind, which she did with a vigour and directness that left nothing to be desired.