y,
"in the Chapel of Philip Neri in the New Church," by way of still
more effectual miracle. Prays, namely, That Heaven would be graciously
pleased to foment, and blow up to the proper degree, this quarrel
between the two chief Heretic Powers, Heaven's chief enemies, whereby
Holy Religion might reap a good benefit, if it pleased Heaven. But, this
time, the miracle did not go off according to program. ["Extract of
a Letter from Rome, 24th September, 1729," in Townshend's Despatch,
Whitehall, 10th Outober, 1729.]

For at this point, before the Pope had prayed, but while the troops and
artillery were evidently all on march ("Such an artillery as I," who am
Kaiser's Artillery-Master, "for my poor part, never had the happiness
to see before in any country," snuffles Seckendorf in the Smoking
Parliament), and now swords are, as it were, drawn, and in the air
make horrid circles,--the neighbors interfere: "Heavens I put up your
swords!"--and the huge world-wide tumult suddenly (I think, in the very
first days of this month September) collapses, sinks into something you
can put into a snuff-box.

Of course it could never come to actual battle, after all. Too high
a pickle-herring tragedy that. Here is a COMODIANT not wanting to be
smitten into the bogs; an honest Orson who wants nothing, nor has ever
wanted, but fair-play. Fair-play; and not to be insulted on the streets,
or have one's poor Hobby quite knocked from under one!--Neighbors, as we
say, struck in; France, Holland, all the neighbors, at this point:
"Do it by arbitration; Wolfenbuttel for the one, Sachsen-Gotha for the
other; Commissioners to meet at Brunswick!" And that, accordingly, was
the course fixed upon; and settlement, by that method, was accomplished,
without difficulty, in some six months hence. [16th April, 1730
(Forster, ii. 105).] Whether Clamei was awarded to Hanover or to
Brandenburg, I never knew, or how the hay of it is cut at this moment.
I only know there was no battle on the subject; though at one time there
was like to be such a clash of battle as the old Markgraves never had
with their old Wends; not if we put all their battlings into one.

Seckendorf's radiant brow has to pucker itself again: this fine project,
of boiling the Kaiser's eggs by setting the world on fire, has not
prospered after all. The gloomy old villain came to her Majesty one day,
[Dubourgay, 30th July, 1729.] while things were near the hottest; and
said or insinuated, He wa