The çoisRenéattack against the Jesuits had begun; one heard the trite and threadbare accusations against that famous Order, in which, it must be admitted, reigns something disquieting, for a mysterious cloud always covers the affairs of the Jesuits.
[Sidenote: Letter from M. de Montlosier.]
With regard to the Jesuits, I received the following letter from M. de Montlosier, and I sent him the reply which will be read after the letter:
Forsake not an old friend, for the new will not be like to him.--ECCLES[287].
"My dear friend, these words are not only of a high antiquity, they are not only of a high wisdom; for the Christian they are sacred. In addressing you, I invoke all the authority that they possess. Never among old friends, never among good citizens, has the need for drawing together been greater. To dose up the ranks, to close up all the bonds between us, to excite with emulation all our wishes, all our efforts, all our sentiments is a duty commanded by the eminently deplorable state of king and country. In addressing these words to you, I know that they will be received by a heart which has been rent by ingratitude and injustice; and yet I still address them to you with confidence, certain as I am that they will make their way through all the clouds. In this delicate point, I do not know, my dear friend, if you will be pleased with me; but, in the midst of your tribulations, if perchance I have heard you accused, I have not made it my business to defend you: I have not even listened. I have said to myself, 'And if it were so?' I do not know that Alcibiades did not display a little too much humour when he put out of his own house the rhetorician who could not show him the works of Homer. I do not know that Hannibal did not display a little too much violence when he threw from his seat the senator who was talking against his opinion. If I were allowed to tell my way of thinking of Achilles, perhaps I should not approve of his leaving the army of the Greeks for some chit of a girl who had been carried off from him. After that, it is enough to pronounce the names of Alcibiades, Hannibal and Achilles to put an end to all contention. It is the same to-day with the _iracundus, inexorabilis_ Chateaubriand. When one has pronounced his name, all is said and done. With that name, when I say to myself, 'He is complaining,' I feel my affection moved; when I say to myself, 'France is indebted to him,' I feel myself penetrated with respect. Yes, my friend, France is indebted to you. She must be indebted to you still further; she has recovered from you her love for the religion of her fathers: this benefit must be preserved to her; and for that, she must be preserved from the mistakes of her priests, those priests themselves preserved from the fatal declivity on which they have placed themselves.