MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received no letter from you since you left
Hamburg; I presume that you are perfectly recovered, but it might not
have been improper to have told me so. I am very far from being
recovered; on the contrary, I am worse and worse, weaker and weaker every
day; for which reason I shall leave this place next Monday, and set out
for Bath a few days afterward. I should not take all this trouble merely
to prolong the fag end of a life, from which I can expect no pleasure,
and others no utility; but the cure, or at least the mitigation, of those
physical ills which make that life a load while it does last, is worth
any trouble and attention.
We are come off but scurvily from our second attempt upon St. Malo; it is
our last for this season; and, in my mind, should be our last forever,
unless we were to send so great a sea and land force as to give us a
moral certainty of taking some place of great importance, such as Brest,
Rochefort, or Toulon.
Monsieur Munchausen embarked yesterday, as he said, for Prince
Ferdinand’s army; but as it is not generally thought that his military
skill can be of any great use to that prince, people conjecture that his
business must be of a very different nature, and suspect separate
negotiations, neutralities, and what not. Kniphausen does not relish it
in the least, and is by no means satisfied with the reasons that have
been given him for it. Before he can arrive there, I reckon that
something decisive will have passed in Saxony; if to the disadvantage of
the King of Prussia, he is crushed; but if, on the contrary, he should
get a complete victory (and he does not get half victories) over the
Austrians, the winter may probably produce him and us a reasonable peace.
I look upon Russia as ‘hors de combat’ for some time; France is certainly
sick of the war; under an unambitious King, and an incapable Ministry, if
there is one at all: and, unassisted by those two powers, the Empress
Queen had better be quiet. Were any other man in the situation of the
King of Prussia, I should not hesitate to pronounce him ruined; but he is
such a prodigy of a man, that I will only say, I fear he will be ruined.
It is by this time decided.
Your Cassel court at Bremen is, I doubt, not very splendid; money must be
wanting: but, however, I dare say their table is always good, for the
Landgrave is a gourmand; and as you are domestic there, you may be so
too, and recruit your loss of flesh from your fever: but do not recruit
too fast. Adieu.