them with Hanover adhering more or less; and
ought not to quarrel with your bargain, which you reckoned so divine!
No doubt, it is singular to see a Britannic Majesty neglecting his own
Spanish War, the one real business he has at present; and running about
over all the world; busy, soul, body and breeches-pocket, in other
people's wars; egging on other fighting, whispering every likely fellow
he can meet, "Won't you perhaps fight? Here is for you, if so!"--hand to
breeches-pocket accompanying the word. But it must be said, and ought to
be better known than in our day it is, His Majesty's Ministers, and the
English State-Doctors generally, were precisely of the same mind. TO
them too the Austrian Quarrel was everything, their own poor Spanish
Quarrel nothing; and the complaint they make of his Majesty is rather
that he does not rush rapidly enough, with brandished sword, as well
as with guineas raining from him, into this one indispensable business.
"Owing to his fears for Hanover!" say they, with indignation, with no
end of suspicion, angry pamphleteering and covert eloquence, "within
those walls" and without.

The suspicion of Hanover's checking his Majesty's Pragmatic velocity is
altogether well founded; and there need no more be said on that Hanover
score. Be it well understood and admitted, Hanover was the Britannic
Majesty's beloved son; and the British Empire his opulent milk-cow.
Richest of milk-cows; staff of one's life, for grand purposes and
small; beautiful big animal, not to be provoked; but to be stroked and
milked:--Friends, if you will do a Glorious Revolution of that kind, and
burn such an amount of tar upon it, why eat sour herbs for an inevitable
corollary therefrom! And let my present readers understand, at any
rate, that,--except in Wapping, Bristol and among the simple
instinctive classes (with whom, it is true, go Pitt and some illustrious
figures),--political England generally, whatever of England had
Parliamentary discourse of reason, and did Pamphlets, Despatches,
Harangues, went greatly along with his Majesty in that Pragmatic
Business. And be the blame of delirium laid on the right back, where it
ought to lie, not on the wrong, which has enough to bear of its own. And
go not into that dust-whirlwind of extinct stupidities, O reader:--what
reader would, except for didactic objects? Know only that it does of a
truth whirl there; and fancy always, if you can, that certain things and
Human Figure