It must, indeed, be allowed, that the list of petty grievances with which the Duchess swells the indignities offered to the Princess Anne, appears, at this distance of time, puerile and vexatious. Her complaints are detailed with a solemnity which seems ridiculous, now that all the stirring passions which gave importance to those incidents are at rest. Her narrative, sarcastic as it is, was unfortunately polished by the hired assistance of Hook, the historian, and, after repeated revisions, which must have shorn many pungent and characteristic passages, was given to the disappointed public, respectably moderate. Still these “annals of a wardrobe,” as Horace Walpole designates them, this “history of the back stairs,” possess—as even he who speaks of “old Marlborough” with bitter contempt is fain to allow—some “curious anecdotes, some sallies of wit, which fourscore years of arrogance could not fail to produce in so fantastic an understanding.”[299] With the account of the death of Queen Mary, much of the Duchess’s caustic satire subsides. Still she has a few touches reserved for William. Even the sorrow which the monarch experienced, and his desolate situation in a foreign country, where he reigned unloved, did not soften the unceasing aversion and contempt with which the Duchess regarded the royal widower. His first grave offence, after Mary’s decease, was his silence in regard to a letter written by the dutiful and subservient Anne, congratulating his Majesty upon the honour done to his name and adopted country, by the taking of Namûr. Probably the King would have received congratulations with a better grace, from any one than from her, who might regard herself as having a sort of partnership interest in the glory of England. Good wishes from Anne were somewhat like the next heir to an estate setting forth a strain of rejoicing, on the growth of timber, or on the improvement of lands, to him who was actually in possession. The King took no notice of the humble epistle, or, in the Duchess’s words, “showed his brutal disregard for the writer,” by never returning “any answer to it, nor so much as a civil message.”[300] The next offence, and it certainly was one which spoke ill of William’s good breeding, was his compelling Prince George to wear coloured clothes on the royal birthday, almost immediately after the death of his brother, the King of Denmark. The Prince, knowing that deep mourning was sometimes allowed in certain instances, requested, through Lord Albemarle, permission to keep on his mourning when he paid his respects to his Majesty.[301] William’s ungracious reply was, that he should not see his brother-in-law unless he came in colours; and the subservient Prince was forced to comply.