e."

And Belleisle, in these critical days, is--consider it!--"Poor
Belleisle, he has all the Election Votes ready; he has done unspeakable
labors in the diplomatic way; and leaves Europe in ebullition and
conflagration behind him. He has all these Armies in motion, and has got
rid of 'that Moravia,'--given it to Saxony, who adds the title 'King of
Moravia' to his other dignities, and has set on march those 21,000 men.
'Would he were ready with them!' Belleisle had been saying, ever since
the Treaty for them,--Treaty was, September 19th. Belleisle, to expedite
him, came to Dresden [what day is not said, but deep in October];
intending next for the Prag Country, there to commence General, the
diplomacies being satisfactorily done. Valori ran over from Berlin to
wait upon him there. Alas, the Saxons are on march, or nearly so; but
the great man himself, worn down with these Herculean labors, has fallen
into rheumatic fever; is in bed, out at Hubertsburg (serene Country
Palace of his Moravian Polish Majesty); and cannot get the least well,
to march in person with the Three Armaments, with the flood of things he
has set reeling and whirling at such rate.

"The sympathies of Valori go deep at this spectacle. The Alcides, who
was carrying the axis of the world, fallen down in physical rheumatism!
But what can sympathies avail? The great man sees the Saxons march
without him. The great man, getting no alleviation from physicians,
determines, in his patriotic heroism, to surrender glory itself; writes
home to Court, 'That he is lamed, disabled utterly; that they must
nominate another General.' And they nominate another; nominate Broglio,
the fat choleric Marshal, of Italian breed and physiognomy, whom we
saw at Strasburg last year, when Friedrich was there. Broglio will quit
Strasburg too soon, and come. A man fierce in fighting, skilled too in
tactics; totally incompetent in strategy, or the art of LEADING armies,
and managing campaigns;--defective in intelligence indeed, not wise to
discern; dim of vision, violent of temper; subject to sudden cranks, a
headlong, very positive, loud, dull and angry kind of man; with whose
tumultuous imbecilities the great Belleisle will be sore tried by and
by. 'I reckon this,' Valori says, 'the root of all our woes;' this
Letter which the great Belleisle wrote home to Court. Let men mark it,
therefore, as a cardinal point,--and snatch out the date, when they have
opportunity upon the Archive