Passy, 20 February, 1779.
In the margin[203] are the dates of all the letters I have received from
you. I have written you several times that number. They are almost all
lost, I suppose by yours. But you should consider it is a different
thing to have five hundred correspondents and but one. It is a different
thing to be under an absolute restraint and under none. It would be an
easy thing for me to ruin you and your children by an indiscreet letter,
and what is more, it would be easy to throw our country into
convulsions. For God's sake never reproach me again with not writing or
with writing scrips. Your wounds are too deep. You know not, you feel
not, the dangers that surround me nor those that may be brought upon our
country. Millions would not tempt me to write you as I used. I have no
security that every letter I write you will not be broken open, and
copied, and transmitted to Congress and to English newspapers. They
would find no treason nor deceit in them, it is true, but they would
find weakness and indiscretion, which they would make as ill a use of.
There are spies upon every word I utter, and every syllable I write.
Spies planted by the English, spies planted by stock-jobbers, spies
planted by selfish merchants, and spies planted by envious and malicious
politicians. I have been all along aware of this, more or less, but more
so now than ever. My life has been often in danger, but I never
considered my reputation and character so much in danger as now. I can
pass for a fool, but I will not pass for a dishonest or mercenary man.
Be upon your guard, therefore. I must be upon mine, and I will.