“Why?”
“Something about not being tied to party, and somewhat he said about patriotism,” replied Lord Davenant.
“Nonsense!” said the general, “he is a fool.”
“Only young,” said Lady Davenant,
“Men are not so very young in these days at two-and-twenty,” said the general.
“In some,” said Lady Davenant, “the classical touch, the romance of political virtue, lasts for months, if not years, after they leave college; even those who, like Granville, go into high life in London, do not sometimes, for a season or two, lose their first enthusiasm of patriotism.”
The general’s lips became compressed. Lord Davenant, throwing himself back in his easy chair, repeated, “Patriotism! yes, every young man of talent is apt to begin with a fit of that sort.”
“My dear lord,” cried Lady Davenant, “you, of all men, to speak of patriotism as a disease!”
“And a disease that can be had but once in life, I am afraid,” replied her lord laughing; “and yet,” as if believing in that at which he laughed, “it evaporates in most men in words, written or spoken, lasts till the first pamphlet is published, or till the maiden-speech in parliament is fairly made, and fairly paid for—in all honour—all honourable men.”
Lady Davenant passed over these satirical observations, and somewhat abruptly asked Lord Davenant if he recollected the late Mr. Windham.