t impossible.

My head is much out of order, and only allows me to wish you good-night.

LETTER CCXIX

LONDON, March 22, 1758

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your letter of the 8th lying before me, with
the favorable account of our progress in Lower Saxony, and reasonable
prospect of more decisive success. I confess I did not expect this, when
my friend Munchausen took his leave of me, to go to Stade, and break the
neutrality; I thought it at least a dangerous, but rather a desperate
undertaking; whereas, hitherto, it has proved a very fortunate one. I
look upon the French army as 'fondue'; and, what with desertion, deaths,
and epidemical distempers, I dare say not a third of it will ever return
to France. The great object is now, what the Russians can or will do; and
whether the King of Prussia can hinder their junction with the Austrians,
by beating either, before they join. I will trust him for doing all that
can be done.

Sir C. W. is still in confinement, and, I fear, will always be so, for he
seems 'cum ratione insanire'; the physicians have collected all he has
said and done that indicated an alienation of mind, and have laid it
before him in writing; he has answered it in writing too, and justifies
himself in the most plausible arguments than can possibly be urged. He
tells his brother, and the few who are allowed to see him, that they are
such narrow and contracted minds themselves, that they take those for mad
who have a great and generous way of thinking; as, for instance, when he
determined to send his daughter over to you in a fortnight, to be
married, without any previous agreement or settlements, it was because he
had long known you, and loved you as a man of sense and honor; and
therefore would not treat with you as with an attorney. That as for
Mademoiselle John, he knew her merit and her circumstances; and asks,
whether it is a sign of madness to have a due regard for the one, and a
just compassion for the other. I will not tire you with enumerating any
more instances of the poor man's frenzy; but conclude this subject with
pitying him, and poor human nature, which holds its reason by so
precarious a tenure. The lady, who you tell me is set out, 'en sera pour
la seine et les fraix du voyage', for her note is worth no more than her
contract. By the way, she must be a kind of 'aventuriere', to engage so
easily in such an adventure with a man whom she had not known above a
week, and whose 'debut' o