You have heard about all my misfortunes from my neighbor, Le Veillard, my good papa. Mr. Brillon's death and that of my granddaughter who, at three, was a model of beauty, of sweetness and grace, have so affected my soul that I had no capacity left but for grief. I took up my pen twenty times to seek refuge in your precious friendship, to seek help in your philosophy, but tears overwhelmed me every time and I had to postpone till a calmer moment my need to converse with you. How often have I looked at your portrait with a great, melting tenderness, my sorrow made worse by the distance between us! How much have I thought of Passy, of the short way I had to go to find the best of friends and the wisest of men! Oh, my friend, the longer one progresses in the path of life, the more one tolerates it and the less one loves it when one has the misfortune of being sensitive. There are so few happy moments and so many sources of affliction that he who goes to sleep young seems to me the least pitiable. My poor little one is perhaps spared many sorrows! Alas, she was already very sensitive. Never will my heart be able to think that she shall not console me in my old age. Pardon me, my good papa, if I cause you pain; the idea of knowing me so aggrieved will deeply touch your good and tender soul, but it is in my friend's bosom that it helps me to lay my sorrows. Time will doubtlessly soften them, but the more he sees how sensitive I am, the more my friend will judge of the love I have devoted to him for this life if there is nothing beyond, and for eternity if we are to survive forever in the great whole.

I shall speak to you neither of politics nor of news, my dear papa; I do not understand the former very well and the latter becomes uninteresting when one no longer lives nearby. I shall speak to you of my daughters who preserve for you a deep feeling of respect and attachment. The elder one is nursing a three month year old, all that is left of the most charming family; her husband still makes her perfectly happy. They adore each other, and as he has as much energy in his soul as sensitivity he helps her tolerate the horrid pains that have torn at her maternal heart. The younger one is not pregnant and still has no children. She is also happy, despite not having a husband of the exceptional quality of her sister's, but he is a decent man and easy enough to live with. We are all under the same roof; they will live with me until they would prefer to have their own home, which I predict will happen for my second son-in-law, who likes society much more than I do and who is destined to a large fortune. But when everyone is together in the same city, one is able to see one another nearly every day. In all probability, Pâris and his wife will always live with me; they own land in a rich and wild region near the sea, where we shall spend a part of the year together. They fancy studying and have no taste for the whirlwind of society; my son-in-law has become my best friend. He is very attentive to my feelings, something irreplaceable and [so] necessary when one has lived and suffered. My health is good enough despite the blows to my soul; my fortune, while not considerable, is decent and well beyond my needs. It allows me to make my children happy and to help a few unfortunate souls. I sold my pretty house in Passy as it was costly and of no use to me, having another one in Paris and the plan of living in the countryside with my son-in-law in the summer months. Here, my good papa, is everything concerning me in great detail; this will bring us closer to each other, at least in ideas. If you still love me as my unchanging friendship gives me the right to hope for, write me a little note. I receive news of you from our good friends Grand and Le Veillard, but it would be sweet to have them directly from you. It would increase my treasures, for you know that I have always kept all your letters.

I put your portrait in a pleasant study which I arranged to store books and my [musical] instruments. I had it beautifully framed; it looks just like you in real life and makes me happy and sometimes sad when I think of our separation, but I never look at it without the greatest feeling. Don't forget me to your daughter whom I revere without knowing her, nor to your lovable [grand]son and Benjamin; farewell, my good papa.