d a friend to
lose, was that of the lord marshal. He did not die but tired of serving
the ungratful, he left Neuchatel, and I have never seen him since.
He still lives, and will, I hope, survive me: he is alive, and thanks to
him all my attachments on earth are not destroyed. There is one man
still worthy of my friendship; for the real value of this consists more
in what we feel than in that which we inspire; but I have lost the
pleasure I enjoyed in his, and can rank him in the number of those only
whom I love, but with whom I am no longer connected. He went to England
to receive the pardon of the king, and acquired the possession of the
property which formerly had been confiscated. We did not separate
without an intention of again being united, the idea of which seemed to
give him as much pleasure as I received from it. He determined to reside
at Keith Hall, near Aberdeen, and I was to join him as soon as he was
settled there: but this project was too flattering to my hopes to give me
any of its success. He did not remain in Scotland. The affectionate
solicitations of the King of Prussia induced him to return to Berlin,
and the reason of my not going to him there will presently appear.

Before this departure, foreseeing the storm which my enemies began to
raise against me, he of his own accord sent me letters of naturalization,
which seemed to be a certain means of preventing me from being driven
from the country. The community of the Convent of Val de Travers
followed the example of the governor, and gave me letters of Communion,
gratis, as they were the first. Thus, in every respect, become a
citizen, I was sheltered from legal expulsion, even by the prince; but it
has never been by legitimate means, that the man who, of all others, has
shown the greatest respect for the laws, has been persecuted. I do not
think I ought to enumerate, amongst the number of my losses at this time,
that of the Abbe Malby. Having lived sometime at the house of his
mother, I have been acquainted with the abbe, but not very intimately,
and I have reason to believe the nature of his sentiments with respect to
me changed after I acquired a greater celebrity than he already had. But
the first time I discovered his insincerity was immediately after the
publication of the 'Letters from the Mountain'. A letter attributed to
him, addressed to Madam Saladin, was handed about in Geneva, in which he
spoke of this work as the seditious c