a thing takes
place, most unexpected;--which made the name of Elbingerode famous for
eight months to come. Of which let us hastily give the bare facts,
Fancy making of them what she can. Was Monseigneur aware that this
Elbingerode, with a patch of territory round it, is Hanoverian ground;
one of those distracted patches or ragged outskirts frequent in the
German map? Prussia is not yet, and Hessen-Cassel has ceased to be.
Undoubtedly Hanoverian! Apparently the Landgraf and Monseigneur had not
thought of that. But Munchhausen of Hanover, spies informing him,
had. The Bailiff (Vogt, AdVOCATus) has gathered twenty JAGER [official
Game-keepers] with their guns, and a select idle Sunday population of
the place with or without guns: the Vogt steps forward, and inquires for
Monseigneur's passport. 'No passport, no need of any!'--'Pardon!' and
signifies to Monseigneur, on the part of George Elector of Hanover, King
of Great Britain, France and Ireland, that Monseigneur is arrested!

"Monseigneur, with compressed or incompressible feelings, indignantly
complies,--what could he else, unfortunate rheumatic gentleman?--and is
plucked away in such sudden manner, he for one, out of that big German
game of his raising. The twenty vehicles are dragged different roads;
towards Scharzfels, Osterode, or I know not where,--handiest roads to
Hanover;--and Monseigneur himself has travelling treatment which might
be complained of, did not one disdain complaint: 'my Brother parted from
me, nay my Doctor, and my Interpreter;'"--not even speech possible to
me. [Letter of Belleisle next morning, "Neuhof, 21st December, 9 A.M."
(in _Valori,_ i. 204), to Munchhausen at Hanover,--by no possibility
"to Valori," as the distracted French Editor has given it!] That was the
Belleisle Accident in the Harz, Sunday Evening, 20th December, 1744.

"Afflicted indignant Valori, soon enough apprised, runs to Friedrich
with the news,--greets Friedrich with it just alighting from that
Silesian run of his own. Friedrich, not without several other things to
think of, is naturally sorry at such news; sorry for his own sake even;
but not overmuch. Friedrich refuses 'to despatch a party of horse,' and
cut out Marechal de Belleisle. "That will never do, MON CHER!'--and even
gets into FROIDES PLAISANTERIES: 'Perhaps the Marechal did it
himself? Tallard, prisoner after Blenheim, made PEACE, you know, in
England?'--and the like; which grieved the soul of Valori, and convin