I have finally received your news dated March 6; it gave me all the more pleasure that I had so ardently wished for it and for so long. I thought that you no longer cared for me, that you had forgotten me. A few days ago I sent you a certificate of my existence, but now all my suffering is over, since you are writing to me and you still love me.
I am stunned that you have had no news of me since October 9th, as I have written you since then: October 30, November 19, January 29, March 15, and April 21. You must not have received the last two or maybe three letters before March 6, but the two others should have gotten to you before that time; I hope that they will appear and even that you have them at present. I do not remember writing you anything which could have made you believe that the lies in the English newspapers, about the supposed discontent of the Americans, had made any impression on my mind. I assure you that I already knew and strongly believed everything which you told me on this subject. However, I suspect that the part that gave you this idea was where I talk about your own country, about the state of Pennsylvania. I have learned with chagrin, from better sources, that there were two factions in the General Assembly, one wishing to preserve, the other wishing to change the constitution; that because of this division, the Assembly is inactive because the two parties are about equal in number, and since the chamber is only able to act with two-thirds of its members, half the members would withdraw when the other half made a proposal. Furthermore, my letter from January 19 will completely express my impressions of this; I will communicate your letter to the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, and I will carry out all your commissions for that excellent family, who talks about you at length whenever I see them, and with the greatest interest.
I am overjoyed with your hope that you will soon repay your [national] debts. I will date the fullness of your liberty only on their complete acquittal. I do not lament very much your ignorance in finance; you possess its great founding principles. Even your uncertainty proves that on this article you Americans are much further advanced than us. You will owe nothing, you will work at full speed, and you fully understand the follies of every state in this part of their government.
It is said that the English have not yet ceded your forts; these gentlemen are hardly diligent regarding their obligations. You know that my brother was commander in Trinquemalé, on the island of Ceylon. He has just arrived, a bit sick; he is convinced that the English wanted to seize this fort. M. MaCartney had indiscreetly said in India that the French, according to the peace treaty, would cede this important post to the English so that the latter would return it to the Dutch, but that it would stop half-way. Fortunately we suspected this, and it was required that my brother be named commissioner by the English to personally assure this post's return to the Dutch, which he did. He very much regrets the loss of this fort, which it would be easy to make impregnable at very little cost. The port of Trinquemalé is three-quarters of a league from good anchoring ground in every direction, and it could contain the entire French Navy. It can be entered and left in any wind, the largest vessels can draw right up to the coast, and whoever possesses it can profit from any weather to reach the coasts of Coromandel and Malabar and anywhere in India in an instant. The land is very fertile; there are eight feet of excellent arable soil almost everywhere in the surrounding country. It abounds in woods and edibles, there are two bays which give fish in great quantity, and different kinds in each bay; the fishing begins in one while it is ending in the other. With its position, Trinquemalé would necessarily become the emporium of all commerce in India. By holding navy storehouses there and furnishing foreign parties with supplies needed for repairs, at only a 15 percent profit, that is to say at a quarter of what the Dutch charge, it would make more than sufficient gain for the costs of government, and we did not keep it! And at the first rifleshot the Dutch will let the English take it!
The celebrated case of the cardinal is ready to come to trial. His memoir has appeared; it is very poorly written, even though it was done by M. Target, a very famous lawyer and member of the Académie Française. One of his colleagues sent it back to him after having written Amplius Lavame underneath M. Target's signature. Regardless, it appears indubitable now that the cardinal was only duped, but excessively, by a Madame de la Motte Valois, an abominable intriguer. By a thousand impostures of false letters, false signatures, etc., she made him believe that she was in the intimate confidences of the Queen, who was mistreating him, that she was capable of changing the bad impressions the Queen had received of him, and that the way to achieve this was to procure for her the pleasure of the famous sixteen-hundred-thousand-livres necklace. He in fact negotiated its purchase, believing himself to be indirectly commissioned by the Queen. But it appears that, a little before his detention, he became worried. The jewellers' own worries, and their possible consequences, increased his alarm. In order to calm the jewellers he risked a few imprudent assertions. Cagliostro and his wife had nothing to do with it. While awaiting the judgement, the Pope has removed Monsignor from his position as cardinal because he has not claimed the privileges of the red hat. A quatrain has been written about him: