at the very first, in
a rather singular fashion, required of me that I should not engage
Frerron to write me news. D'Arnauld did you some injuries; a generous
man would have pardoned them; a vindictive man persecutes those towards
whom he feels hatred. In fine, though D'Arnauld had done nothing so far
as I was concerned, on your account he had to leave. You went to the
Russian minister's to speak to him about matters you had no business to
meddle with, and it was supposed that I had given you instructions; you
meddled in Madame de Bentinck's affairs, which was certainly not in your
province. Then you have the most ridiculous squabble in the world with
that Jew. You created a fearful uproar all through the city. The matter
of the Saxon bills is so well known in Saxony that grave complaints have
been made to me about them. For my part, I kept peace in my household
until your arrival, and I warn you that, if you are fond of intrigue and
cabal, you have come to the wrong place. I like quiet and peaceable
folks who do not introduce into their behavior the violent passions of
tragedy; in case you can make up your mind to live as a philosopher, I
shall be very glad to see you; but, if you give way to the impetuosity of
your feelings and quarrel with everybody, you will do me no pleasure by
coming hither and you may just as well remain at Berlin."

Voltaire was not proud; he readily heaped apology upon apology; but he
was irritable and vain; his ill-humor against Maupertuis came out in a
pamphlet, as bitter as it was witty, entitled _La Diatribe du Docteur
Akakia;_ copies were circulating in Berlin; the satire was already
printed anonymously, when the Great Frederick suddenly entered the lists.
He wrote to Voltaire, "Your effrontery astounds me after that which you
have just done, and which is as clear as daylight. Do not suppose that
you will make black appear white; when one does not see, it is because
one does not want to see everything; but, if you carry matters to
extremity, I will have everything printed, and it will then be seen that
if your works deserve that statues should be raised to you, your conduct
deserves handcuffs."

Voltaire, affrighted, still protesting his innocence, at last gave up the
whole edition of the diatribe, which was burned before his eyes in the
king's own closet. According to the poet's wily habit, some copy or
other had doubtless escaped the flames. Before long _Le Docteur Akakia_
a