| I’m writing this missive, consuming, as you shall see, not a small amount of ink and, as I believe you will most solemnly avow, not a small amount of my precious time, in order to congratulate you in the most hearty of hearty ways to the publication of a literary effort of scandalous and magnificent prospects, which, without a doubt, may prove to be the event of the season, if not the year entire! What joy had I not upon indulging my eyes on the words so beautifully crafted and the sentences so meticulously fashioned? What frank bewilderment smote me not, as a clanging silver hammer upon the stoutest of anvils, when I first began to comprehend the significance of said effort? What utter exasperation did I not experience when it dawned on me I must abstain from this enchanting pastime, in which radiance all other pastimes are but like the sojourn to the dreary Gomorra when one has visited Eden, for, what has been my understanding a double fortnight? Pray, let me survive this interval; I am not so conceited as to believing myself capable of that at the present hour! Hark les anges du ciel, I fear for my life!
Although I scarcely want to admit it for reasons of ecstatic oblivion upon my own part, I do have the not altogether suppressed common sense for understanding that I am not alone in having unearthed, as it were, this precious gem, and seeing its lustre and ethereal form. As for you, dear friends, I have no doubt you are aware of having not attracted but my singular devotion, but the affection of a number of fellow admirers (oh, how I despise them!). I’m quite sure I had occasion to hear your success murmured about in the, very commonplace I might add, salón of Lord Chutney last night at a, if I may say so, highly unfashionable event. No doubt the privileged, and as yet clandestine, class of devotees you have so humbly acquired will, like the Black Death, spread and expand until all of intellectual disposition can by right call himself a victim. Forgive me for my terrible allegory; it is but my desperate soul that, in the light of once again sharing an unquenchable love with unspecified others, of not being the lone acolyte of this my new-found spiritual haven, has given its jealousy so foul an expression. Forgive me and bear with me.
I have not yet dissected what so confounded my senses and drove me to obsession and I will not do so here. Suffice it to say I marvelled at the sheer abundance in novel and highly original talent (how exquisite to find a piece in French!), not to mention the sophisticated and tasteful form in which this talent is displayed. If I can not herewith assure you of my complete and utter collapse before this colossal success in human endeavour I must defend myself by saying that my humble intellectual tools are but able to build a straw hut when aspiring to complete a magnificent palace. But, do trust in me, if you so would search my mental capacities for two hundred scores of lifetimes you would not find a single remonstrance or abject thought in regards to the remarkable feat you have bestowed upon the world. ‘Tis a bliss unexpected and now unbearable if it were to be absent. It is quite the curse and I cannot thank you enough for it! I hope you will not find me too queer if I say my devotion for you oversteps all boundaries.
Best wishes for a future of the most impeccable grandeur!
Humbly at your service,
Lord Put-Your-Pants-Straight
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