oo much so, perhaps, for their brilliancy
was not of good augury; and I was not surprised at hearing subsequently
that his reason had abandoned him, altho' he possessed and exerted his
wit most perfectly during our conversation, in which he displayed the
greatest gallantry. I could not reproach him with one single expression
that was objectionable, altho' the subject of conversation was delicate.
He discoursed of the feelings of the king towards me, and yet said not a
word that was unsuited or out of place, nothing but what was in the best
taste, and expressed with the utmost delicacy. I asked him if the ladies
of Denmark were handsome. "I thought, madame," was his reply, "until
now, that the ladies of my kingdom were the most lovely in Europe."

We did not talk of myself only: Christian VII spoke of Paris with
enthusiasm. "It is the capital of the world," he remarked, "and our
states are but the provinces." He sought out our most celebrated
_savants_ and _literati_, and was particularly delighted with
d'Alembert, Diderot, la Harpe, and M. the comte de Buffon. He greatly
regretted that Voltaire was not in Paris, and expressed his great desire
to see at Ferney the great genius (as he termed him) who instructed and
amused the world. He appeared weary of the fetes which were given,
and especially with the deadly-lively company of the two Duras. It was
enough to kill you to have only one of them, and you may imagine the
torture of being bored with both. The duke had promised Louis XV to be
as amusing as possible too! After a conversation of three hours, which
his majesty (of course) said had appeared but of a moment, he left me
delighted with his person, wit, and manners.

When Louis XV saw me, he inquired my opinion of his Danish majesty.

"He is," I replied, "a well-educated king, and that they say is a
rarity."

"True," said Louis XV, "there are so many persons who are interested in
our ignorance, that it is a miracle if we escape out of their hands as
reasonable beings."

I went on to tell the king our conversation.

"Ah," cried he, "here is one who will increase the vanity of the
literary tribe: they want it, certainly. All these wits are our natural
born enemies; and think themselves above us; and the more we honor them,
the greater right do they assume to censure and despise us."

This was the usual burden of his song: he hated men of learning.
Voltaire especially was his detestation, on account of the numerou