Refutation

Since we have in common, Monsieur, the fact of having been persecuted—you by the great Louis, the false scientists and the Jesuits, me by my wife, who never found satisfaction except in scolding me; since the evil-doers and fanatics went so far as to exile us—you to Egmond, me to Chatenay Malabris—you confined in an oven, me in my little room; since we both share the same abhorrence for worldly masquerades and the same tranquil taste for deserts—social deserts, I mean; since neither of us can stand to have anyone barge in on our retreats and come tramping around our inhuman solitudes; since both of us frequented someone whose first name was Christine—yours beautiful and of royal blood, mine red-faced and domestic; since it is no exaggeration to say that both of them desired our death and in a certain sense obtained it; since we both consider that the air of Paris is noxious to us because of the innumerable amusements there and because of the majority of people there who make a point of lying; since you affirmed that reason was equal in all men, from which I infer that my own naturally equals yours in expanse and penetration; since you finally (quite imprudently) exhorted men to throw off the yoke of all authority and only recognize that of reason, I authorize myself here to throw off yours, and for all these reasons cited here that make us brothers, I declare to you fraternally the following, which no one heretofore has risked saying to you: your fault is enormous, Monsieur, enormous in relation to me, enormous in relation to the world. I am going to demonstrate this to you and definitively confound you.