irement learn more relative to the affair. You have a
correspondence by means of which you may, if you think it worth the
trouble, go back to the source and verify the fact.
"In the same letter the Abbe' Trublet informs me that he keeps the paper
in reserve, and will not lend it without my consent, which most assuredly
I will not give. But it is possible this copy may not be the only one in
Paris. I wish, sir, the letter may not be printed there, and I will do
all in my power to prevent this from happening; but if I cannot succeed,
and that, timely perceiving it, I can have the preference, I will not
then hesitate to have it immediately printed. This to me appears just
and natural.
"With respect to your answer to the same letter, it has not been
communicated to anyone, and you may be assured it shall not be printed
without your consent, which I certainly shall not be indiscreet enough to
ask of you, well knowing that what one man writes to another is not
written to the public. But should you choose to write one you wish to
have published, and address it to me, I promise you faithfully to add to
it my letter and not to make to it a single word of reply.
"I love you not, sir; you have done me, your disciple and enthusiastic
admirer; injuries which might have caused me the most exquisite pain.
You have ruined Geneva, in return for the asylum it has afforded you;
you have alienated from me my fellow-citizens, in return for eulogiums I
made of you amongst them; it is you who render to me the residence of my
own country insupportable; it is you who will oblige me to die in a
foreign land, deprived of all the consolations usually administered to a
dying person; and cause me, instead of receiving funeral rites, to be
thrown to the dogs, whilst all the honors a man can expect will accompany
you in my country. Finally I hate you because you have been desirous I
should but I hate you as a man more worthy of loving you had you chosen
it. Of all the sentiments with which my heart was penetrated for you,
admiration, which cannot be refused your fine genius, and a partiality to
your writings, are those you have not effaced. If I can honor nothing in
you except your talents, the fault is not mine. I shall never be wanting
in the respect due to them, nor in that which this respect requires."
In the midst of these little literary cavillings, which still fortified
my resolution, I received the greatest honor letters ever ac
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