What could the
Sorbonne have to do in the matter? Did the doctors wish to know to a
certainty that I was not a Catholic? Everybody already knew I was not
one. Were they desirous of proving I was not a good Calvinist? Of what
consequence was this to them? It was taking upon themselves a singular
care, and becoming the substitutes of our ministers. Before I saw this
publication I thought it was distributed in the name of the Sorbonne, by
way of mockery: and when I had read it I was convinced this was the case.
But when at length there was not a doubt of its authenticity, all I could
bring myself to believe was, that the learned doctors would have been
better placed in a madhouse than they were in the college.

I was more affected by another publication, because it came from a man
for whom I always had an esteem, and whose constancy I admired, though I
pitied his blindness. I mean the mandatory letter against me by the
archbishop of Paris. I thought to return an answer to it was a duty I
owed myself. This I felt I could do without derogating from my dignity;
the case was something similar to that of the King of Poland. I had
always detested brutal disputes, after the manner of Voltaire. I never
combat but with dignity, and before I deign to defend myself I must be
certain that he by whom I am attacked will not dishonor my retort. I had
no doubt but this letter was fabricated by the Jesuits, and although they
were at that time in distress, I discovered in it their old principle of
crushing the wretched. I was therefore at liberty to follow my ancient
maxim, by honoring the titulary author, and refuting the work which I
think I did completely.

I found my residence at Motiers very agreeable, and nothing was wanting
to determine me to end my days there, but a certainty of the means of
subsistence. Living is dear in that neighborhood, and all my old
projects had been overturned by the dissolution of my household
arrangements at Montmorency, the establishment of others, the sale or
squandering of my furniture, and the expenses incurred since my
departure. The little capital which remained to me daily diminished.
Two or three years were sufficient to consume the remainder without my
having the means of renewing it, except by again engaging in literary
pursuits: a pernicious profession which I had already abandoned.
Persuaded that everything which concerned me would change, and that the
public, recovered from its