“Addison will tell you that such a sovereign is a sheer impossibility.  I agree with Hobbes, of two evils choose the least.  A nation without superstition would be a nation of philosophers, and philosophers would never obey.  The people will only be happy when they are crushed and down-trodden, and bound in chains.”

“This is horrible; and you are of the people yourself.  If you have read my works you must have seen how I shew that superstition is the enemy of kings.”

“Read your works?  I have read and re-read them, especially in places where I have differed from you.  Your ruling passion is the love of humanity.  ‘Est ubi peccas’.  This blinds you.  Love humanity, but love it as it is.  It is not fit to receive the blessings you would lavish on it, and which would only make it more wretched and perverse.  Leave men their devouring monster, it is dear to them.  I have never laughed so heartily as at Don Quixote assailed by the galley-slaves whom his generosity had set free.”

“I am sorry that you have such a bad opinion of your fellow-creatures.  And by the way, tell me whether there is freedom in Venice.”

“As much as can be expected under an aristocracy.  Our liberty is not so great as that which the English enjoy, but we are content.”

“Even under The Leads?”

“My imprisonment was certainly despotic; but as I had knowingly abused my liberty I am satisfied that the Government was within its rights in shutting me up without the usual formalities.”

“All the same, you made your escape.”

“I used my rights as they had used theirs.”

“Very good!  But as far as I can see, no one in Venice is really free.”

“That may be; but you must agree that the essence of freedom consists in thinking you have it.”

“I shall not agree to that so easily.  You and I see liberty from very different points of view.  The aristocrats, the members of the Government even, are not free at Venice; for example, they cannot travel without permission.”

“True, but that is a restriction of their own making to preserve their power.  Would you say that a Bernese is not free, because he is subject to the sumptuary laws, which he himself had made.”

“Well, well, I wish the people made the laws everywhere.”

After this lively answer, he abruptly asked me what part I came from.

“From Roche,” said I.  “I should have been very sorry to leave Switzerland without seeing the famous Haller.  In my travels I render homage to my learned contemporaries, and you come the last and best.”

“You must have liked Haller.”

“I spent three of the happiest days of my life with him.”

“I congratulate you.  He is a great man and worthy of all honour.”

“I think as you do, and I am glad to hear you doing him justice; I am sorry he was not so just towards you.”

“Well, you see we may be both of us mistaken.”