Might have been didactic to England, more than it was; England's skin being very thick against lessons of that nature.

Might have broken the heart of a little Sovereign Gentleman Curator of England, had he gone hypochondriacally into it; which he was far from doing, brisk little Gentleman; looking out else-whither, with those eyes A FLEUR DE TETE, and nothing of insoluble admitted into the brain that dwelt inside.
What became subsequently of the Spanish War, we in vain inquire of History-Books.

The War did not die for many years to come, but neither did it publicly live; it disappears at this point: a River Niger, seen once flowing broad enough; but issuing--Does it issue nowhere, then?
Where does it issue?
Except for my Constitutional Historian, still unpublished, I should never have known where .-- By the time these disastrous Carthagena tidings reached England, his Britannic Majesty was in Hanover; involved, he, and all his State doctors, English and Hanoverian, in awful contemplation on Pragmatic Sanction, Kaiserwahl, Celestial Balance, and the saving of Nature's Keystone, should this still prove possible to human effort and contrivance.

In which Imminency of Doomsday itself, the small English-Spanish matter, which the Official people, and his Majesty as much as any, had bitterly disliked, was quite let go, and dropped out of view.

Forgotten by Official people; left to the dumb English Nation, whose concern it was, to administer as IT could.
Anson--with his three ships gone to two, gone ultimately to one--is henceforth what Spanish War there officially is.