of
fashion. As these two pictures of you are very unlike that which I
received, and sent you some months ago, I will name the two painters: the
first is an old friend and acquaintance of mine, Monsieur d'Aillon. His
picture is, I hope, like you; for it is a very good one: Monsieur
Tollot's is still a better, and so advantageous a one, that I will not
send you a copy of it, for fear of making you too vain. So far only I
will tell you, that there was but one BUT in either of their accounts;
and it was this: I gave d'Aillon the question ordinary and extraordinary,
upon the important article of manners; and extorted this from him: But,
since you will know it, he still wants that last beautiful varnish, which
raises the colors, and gives brilliancy to the piece. Be persuaded that
he will acquire it: he has too much sense not to know its value; and if I
am not greatly mistaken, more persons than one are now endeavoring to
give it him. Monsieur Tollot says: "In order to be exactly all that you
wish him, he only wants those little nothings, those graces in detail,
and that amiable ease, which can only be acquired by usage of the great
world. I am assured that he is, in that respect, in good hands. I do not
know whether that does not rather imply in fine arms." Without entering
into a nice discussion of the last question, I congratulate you and
myself upon your being so near that point at which I so anxiously wish
you to arrive. I am sure that all your attention and endeavors will be
exerted; and, if exerted, they will succeed. Mr. Tollot says, that you
are inclined to be fat, but I hope you will decline it as much as you
can; not by taking anything corrosive to make you lean, but by taking as
little as you can of those things that would make you fat. Drink no
chocolate; take your coffee without cream: you cannot possibly avoid
suppers at Paris, unless you avoid company too, which I would by no means
have you do; but eat as little at supper as you can, and make even an
allowance for that little at your dinners. Take occasionally a double
dose of riding and fencing; and now that summer is come, walk a good deal
in the Tuileries. It is a real inconvenience to anybody to be fat, and
besides it is ungraceful for a young fellow. 'A propos', I had like to
have forgot to tell you, that I charged Tollot to attend particularly to
your utterence and diction; two points of the utmost importance. To the
first he says: "His enunciation is not