“Permit me, madam, to avail myself of this opportunity to lay at your feet the assurance of my most respectful devotion. I dare not give utterance to all my prayers in your behalf, because I am open to a charge of infidelity from some, yet none shall ever detect me unfaithful in my present professions; at my age, ‘tis time our choice was made, and our affections fixed. Be assured, lovely countess, that I shall ever remain your attached friend; and that no day will pass without my teaching the echoes of the Alps to repeat your much-esteemed name.
“I have the honour to remain, malady, yours, etc., etc.”
You may be quite sure, my friend, that I did not allow so singular an epistle to remain long unanswered. I replied to it in the following words:—
“SIR,—The perusal of your agreeable letter made me almost grieve for the disgrace of the duc de Choiseul. Be assured, that to his own conduct, and that of his family, may be alone attributed the misfortune you deplore.
“The regrets you so feelingly express for the calamity which has befallen your late protector do honour to your generous heart; but recollect that your old friends were not the only persons who could appreciate and value your fine talents; to be esteemed worthy the honourable appellation of your patron is a glory which the proudest might envy; and, although I cannot boast of being a Minerva, who, after all, was possibly no wiser than the rest of us, I shall always feel proud and happy to serve you with my utmost credit and influence.
“I return you my best thanks for the wishes you express, and the attachment you so kindly profess. You honour me too much by repeating my name amidst the bosom of the Alps! be assured, that I shall not be behindhand in making the saloons of Paris and Versailles resound with yours. Had I leisure for the undertaking, I would go and teach it to the only mountain worthy of re-echoing it—at the foot of Parnassus.
“I am, sir, yours, etc., etc.”
You perceive, my friend, that I intended this reply should be couched in the wittiest style imaginable, yet, upon reading it over at this lapse of time, it appears to me the silliest thing ever penned; nevertheless, I flattered myself I had caught the tone and manner in which M. de Voltaire had addressed me: he perceived my intention, and was delighted with the flattering deference it expressed. You know the vanity of men of letters; and M. de Voltaire, as the first writer of the age, possessed, in proportion, the largest portion of conceit.