Ionie, Mai 23me 1818
It is grief very great for me, your adorer most devoted, to see monself contrefeited in much vile manner. For, mademoiselle, it is verily that I never was upon not any steeple to look at your mountain English, for as is known well at Paris, the demoiselle barmaid as milords Anglaises call her, has never versed coffee at les thousand columns since I myself moved to deposit my cinders at Corfu. Assurement, mademoiselle, if you give consideration, it was more convenient for me not to sit on a hill when le grand Tape liked better to repose himself under oranges. Ah Eleonore! le grand Tape did like me love and be much fool but his Leonore was not Mademoiselle Porden. Non, ma tres adorable dear, it only is here fit for un Colonel Française to exhale his sighs. Ulysses was thrown here without his coat — Alexandre, while only baby, was citizen of Corfu called turn-by-turn Drepanum, Macria, Scheria, Corcyra et même Argos! Aristotle came philosophising to these beau rocks and Caton met Circeron after the kicks of fortune before the Triumphirs! Ah! quels hommes! quels eventments!
Non, mademoiselle, never you credit the falsehood enormous that I come here to obliviate you and not pay my debts to les Tailleurs a la mode Anglais — Her under this skyblue, where I can see the peartrees of Nomere’s old gentleman, more, non, not more venerables that the pears of our great Hanri at Ivry! Again encore I say, no, mademoiselle — there never was but one dog cited for his ingratitude and he was a Lancastre puppy. Et plus, mademoiselle, this villain dog, who was called Math as l’histoire concerns his name, was belong to an English king and never had seen le belle Eleonore.
Enfin, for I can no more find syllables for my chagrin, I nothing know of your Kaleidoscope for it is only you English men that give trouble themselves with their inventions. La grande nation has no need to make any thing for herself for she serves herself with the other peoples. Et puis, which I know not how you say with your English tongue, there was thing called Kaleidoscope in the ile long since and mine good friend le Chevalier Gonflecoeur has conserved for me un morceau transcrived from marble Greek, but M. Chateaubriand asseverates that milord Castlereagh has confided his secretaire to make copy. And you will see plain le mot Kaleidoscope and and the thing’s self more fit for Messieurs les Financiers than for him whom you shall see both in wine and water
La Belle Eleonore’s swimmer in love
Le Compte Leandre
Fragment of a M.S. communicated by Lord C....’s Secretary to M. Chateaubriand