Book XII - Page 2

lady, made
me join with the mother in postponing the ceremony, and the affair was at
length broken off. The colonel has since married Mademoiselle Dillan,
his relation, beautiful, and amiable as my heart could wish, and who has
made him the happiest of husbands and fathers. However, M. Rougin has
not yet forgotten my opposition to his wishes. My consolation is in the
certainty of having discharged to him, and his family, the duty of the
most pure friendship, which does not always consist in being agreeable,
but in advising for the best.

I did not remain long in doubt about the reception which awaited me at
Geneva, had I chosen to return to that city. My book was burned there,
and on the 18th of June, nine days after an order to arrest me had been
given at Paris, another to the same effect was determined upon by the
republic. So many incredible absurdities were stated in this second
decree, in which the ecclesiastical edict was formally violated, that I
refused to believe the first accounts I heard of it, and when these were
well confirmed, I trembled lest so manifest an infraction of every law,
beginning with that of common-sense, should create the greatest confusion
in the city. I was, however, relieved from my fears; everything remained
quiet. If there was any rumor amongst the populace, it was unfavorable
to me, and I was publicly treated by all the gossips and pedants like a
scholar threatened with a flogging for not having said his catechism.

These two decrees were the signal for the cry of malediction, raised
against me with unexampled fury in every part of Europe. All the
gazettes, journals and pamphlets, rang the alarm-bell. The French
especially, that mild, generous, and polished people, who so much pique
themselves upon their attention and proper condescension to the
unfortunate, instantly forgetting their favorite virtues, signalized
themselves by the number and violence of the outrages with which, while
each seemed to strive who should afflict me most, they overwhelmed me.
I was impious, an atheist, a madman, a wild beast, a wolf. The
continuator of the Journal of Trevoux was guilty of a piece of
extravagance in attacking my pretended Lycanthropy, which was by no means
proof of his own. A stranger would have thought an author in Paris was
afraid of incurring the animadversion of the police, by publishing a work
of any kind without cramming into it some insult to me. I sought in vain
the cause of this unanimous animosity, and was almost tempted to believe
the world was gone mad. What! said I to myself, the editor of the
'Perpetual Peace', spread discord; the author of the 'Confession of the
Savoyard Vicar', impious; the writer of the 'New Eloisa', a wolf; the
author of 'Emilius', a madman!