March 13 1790
My very Dear Father
I clearly see that it is easier for me to pass you my news than for you to send me yours. My business is the excuse for my silence and I hadn’t expected you to punish me by writing less, because I have written to you through the medium of my journal [see Revs no 7] I am overcome by weariness and hardship;
No, my son, I am not and never could be an enemy to you; you could not suspect it other than in the frenzy of your imagination or your despair. I am, and will always be, your friend, your best friend. Your mother is my other half in this feeling, because for the last fifteen days both she and my conscience have been urging me to write to you, I haven’t found the time owing to my poor health and the numerous difficulties of my work.
I am pleased to see you more affected by the correspondence and friendship of Dubucquoi than by so many worthy testimonies, which are, however, useful for encouraging you in your great work. If all that is missing for your satisfaction is my ‘bravo’, then receive it; it is a long time since I said it to you quietly, as a father should.
As long as you have a father, a mother, brothers and sisters your comparison with Philoctetes will be wrong, I have more grounds to fear becoming like him than you, if I am left only with my anxieties and worries.
To me, the isle begins to be quite deserted, or, what is worse, it seems to be inhabited only by the monkeys, serpents, tigers and rapacious birds which infest our swamp of l’Oise
Your Father, Desmoulins