I have received first two, then five copies of the translation of my Petit code that you were so good as to commission, and I cannot thank you enough. The English version is so well rendered that it could easily pass for an original, and it is printed in the best way possible. [The only] noticeable fault, but an unimportant one, is on the seventh page where [twelfth] appears instead of second (that is, douzième instead of deuxième). I am very flattered by the approval of your worthy friends; a small number of people here have also appreciated the work, but in general it has not made a great sensation… perhaps one day that will come, and since they wish to honor me with a second edition in London, I think that I will risk a new edition in Paris too, for the encouragement you have given me has made me put new effort into improving the work to the best of my ability. I have recast almost all of it, and extended it from thirty-five to fifty-one articles, as you will see from the copy that I have the honor of enclosing with this letter, and that I submit to you for revision.

If my respectable translator does not disdain to amuse herself by putting this addition to the work into your language, I will be very obliged to you for sending me a few copies of it, as you did with the first edition. I will also ask you, if I may dare, to have a copy sent to Miss Pitt, sister of the Count of Chatam, who either is or has been Keeper of the Privy Purse for the Princess of Wales. This young lady has honored me with her acts of kindness and her trust in me, particularly over the period [of] her last stay in France, and I have had further tokens of her goodwill since [her] return to England. However, a very gloomy letter that I was induced to write to her towards the beginning of the last war has embarrassed me to the degree that I have no longer dared to cultivate an acquaintance which is so precious to me for so many reasons. I do not know whether you are personally acquainted with her, but I strongly doubt that her brother could surpass her in intelligence.

As for my research on our French peers and magistrates, it would have been very difficult to bring an edition published in your country into ours, and so I have sent it to a place where the difficulties encountered will be fewer, although they will still be great. I took this step after having vainly sought permission to have the work published here. Therefore I will not trouble you at all with this matter, and will only ask you to accept a copy with my compliments.

But I reserve for myself another occasion to put your goodwill to the test; I have worked in odd moments on a digest on humanity, or a commentary on the Code, written under the pseudonym of Mr. Jone of Philadelphia. This work will go into a little more detail and will be a little less carefully written, but I hope that it will interest you nonetheless by the order and development of its subject matter. My heart is set on being able to send it to you before your departure, the mere thought of which makes me shiver, and lament that I am not able to follow you into a country where (thanks chiefly to you) all the prejudices of our old hemisphere have been speedily shaken off, and where our descendants could well find one day the seat of the British empire and the home of universal reason.

Without vanity, I will tell you in passing that there are two or three members of the Sorbonne here who often call me a demi-Quaker, although I take my turn at handing out the holy bread, and I hang my front door with tapestries on Corpus Christi day, and I take off my hat to almost all priests and monks.

People flatter us by saying that there is no chance of our going to war against you, and I assure you that I am very glad of it. Louis XIV admitted on his deathbed that he had been too fond of war; for my part, however little a person likes it, I always consider that little to be too much.

I thank you for the kind welcome you gave to our friend Mr. Frey. He has not passed through Paris again, but I have heard from him, and he regrets very much that he was not able to stay any longer in London.As for me, I am sorry that I cannot make even the briefest voyage there; you may be sure that the obstacles that detain me here must be strong indeed, after your gracious offer to provide me with the ease of lodging close to you, and of constantly enjoying company of which I well perceive all the worth. My wife assures you that it would be no less delightful for her, although she would not find it easy by any means to overcome the aversion that has been instilled in her to everything that is cut off from [holy?] Roman communion.

In connection with this topic, we have a small innovation in France which could spread far; it is freedom of conscience in a newly emerging little town. I think that we owe this policy to the Duke of Choiseul. It will not always be in force, but if (as I hope) this experiment has positive results, and reason continues to make progress, this arrangement will be difficult to revoke, and both upper and lower classes will demand it with all their might. I attach here an extract of a letter on this subject.