“But, my dear sir, you can’t be serious in what you say. Bonaparte’s marshals are great men, who act under the guidance of an omnipotent master-spirit: your Wellington is the most humdrum of common-place martinets, whose slow mechanical movements are further cramped by an ignorant home-government.”
“Wellington is the soul of England. Wellington is the right champion of a good cause; the fit representative of a powerful, a resolute, a sensible, and an honest nation.”
“Your good cause, as far as I understand it, is simply the restoration of that filthy, feeble Ferdinand, to a throne which he disgraced: your fit representative of an honest people is a dull-witted drover, acting for a duller-witted farmer: and against these are arrayed victorious supremacy and invincible genius.”
“Against legitimacy is arrayed usurpation: against modest, single-minded, righteous, and brave resistance to encroachment, is arrayed boastful, double-tongued, selfish, and treacherous ambition to possess. God defend the right!”
“God often defends the powerful.”
“What! I suppose the handful of Israelites standing dry-shod on the Asiatic side of the Red Sea, was more powerful than the host of the Egyptians drawn up on the African side? Were they more numerous? Were they better appointed? Were they more mighty, in a word—eh? Don’t speak,
