Irepeat to you, my dear Baron, your plan of education appears to me most excellent, and, notwithstanding the fickleness of opinion with which you accuse me, I believe I shall always continue to think so. From all that you have said in your former letter, I am perfectly satisfied, if your son has sense and genius, that you will make a great man of him. However, permit me to tell you, I think I have remarked some contradictions in your principles. You are convinced that happiness consists only in being of a quiet, peaceful mind. And that strong passions, even when gratified, will not procure it; and yet, notwithstanding, this is your opinion. All your attentions and labours not only serve to exalt and elevate the mind of your pupil, but also warm his imagination, and kindle the fire of heroism in his heart. No doubt you will succeed, but would it not be better to make a happy than a great man? Can it be vanity which makes you prefer shining and dangerous qualifications to the more retired and milder virtues, which would ensure the repose and happiness of his life? I can scarcely believe it. And you must explain to me what I have so badly understood, or what you have not sufficiently informed me of. Your first duty and sole end is to labour for the happiness of your child. He has already obtained from nature and fortune every advantage which they can procure him; but your care and reflections will add to them all that he has a right to expect from a father, who has sacrificed every thing for his improvement.

You want to know if I have really broke off my connections with Madame de Gerville. I hope to, but … However, I cannot answer for it. She was insupportable to me, and for a long time we have found out we did not love each other; nay, we have even discovered that we never loved.