Paris, 28 December, 1782.
I dare say there is not a lady in America treated with a more curious
dish of politics than is contained in the inclosed papers. You may show
them to discreet friends, but by no means let them go out of your hands
or be copied. Preserve them in safety against accidents.
I am afraid we shall have another campaign; but do not despair, however,
of a peace this winter. America has nothing to do but to be temperate,
patient, and faithful to her ally. This is as clearly her duty as it is
her interest. She could not trust England if her honor was not engaged
to France, which it is most certainly; and when this is said, all is
said. Whether there should be peace or war, I shall come home in the
summer. As soon as I shall receive from Congress their acceptance of the
resignation of all my employments, which I have transmitted many ways, I
shall embark, and you may depend upon a good domestic husband for the
remainder of my life, if it is the will of Heaven that I should once
more meet you. My promises are not lightly made with anybody. I have
never broken one made to you, and I will not begin at this time of
life.
My children, I hope, will once at length discover that they have a
father who is not unmindful of their welfare. They have had too much
reason to think themselves forgotten, although I know that an anxiety
for their happiness has corroded me every day of my life.
With a tenderness which words cannot express, I am theirs and yours
forever.