| Citation |
BEP(P.782.021
23 Feb 1782:21,22,23 (1/19)
From the Westminster Magazine, for May 1781.
On the Graces. (From the Rev. Mr. Sherlock's "Letters.")
The graces, the graces, the graces, are Lord Chesterfield's
perpetual cry through four pretty considerable volumes. . .
[2 columns discussing the meaning of this concept,
including:]
All grace consists in motion. The great secret of it is
to marry the two apparent contradictions; to unite, in the
same movement, quickness and softness, vivacity and
mildness, gentleness and spirit.
If softness becomes slowness, it is languid and dull. If
liveliness is not attempered with gentleness, it becomes
violence or levity. Every violent movement is ungracious;
and levity touches near upon ridicule. The union of those
two requisites is necessary in dancing, walking, bowing,
talking, carving, presenting or receiving any thing, and, if
I may venture to add, in smiling.
Ease is the essence of grace; but all motions quick and
smooth will necessarily be easy and free. When Milton
describes the grace of an angel, it is smooth-sliding
without step; and Guido's angels, who are as graceful as
Lady Urne, seem to have been painted after Milton's
description.
The seat of grace is in all parts of the body that have
motion, as the legs, hands, arms, head, lips, eyebrows, but
particularly in the neck. As the head is almost continually
in motion, to have it move with freedom and ease, the
muscles of the neck ought to be extremely supple. This
suppleness is acquired by practice. The women of France
possess it in a higher degree than those of any other
country I know. A French woman sitting between two men will
address the same phrase to both of them, by a free and easy
motion of her head, without ever moving her shoulders.
Women of other countries cannot do that. When they turn the
head, there is a stiffness in the joints or muscles of their
necks, that makes them turn the whole body with it.
Nothing ever was graceful that was forced and unnatural.
The smallest degree of affectation destroys grace. And
hence the necessity of attending to that precious rule,
"Rien de trop; Do not o'er step the modesty of nature." The
people who most frequently trespass against this precept are
the people of the state. They are almost all affected.
Even the inimitable Vestris himself, the first dancer in the
world, and [had?] his ungraceful "moments." There is a
point where grace is; beyond that point is affectation. To
hit the happy mean is difficult in every thing; perhaps in
nothing more so in the arts than in this grace we are
talking of. Its effect is so fine, and it is so sure of
captivating every beholder, that all painters aim at it
particularly. Few of them succeed: Sir Joshua Reynolds, in
my opinion, better than any man now living. . . [The
remainder of the article praises Greek precedents for grace
and beauty.]
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