And most certainly in this last allegation of advantage to be

obtained by a competent skill, or at least tincture of the art,

the Chevalier Ramsay, has not exagerated its utility. Quintilian

has recommended it, especially in early years, when the limbs

are the most pliable, for procuring that so necessary

accomplishment, in the formation of orators gesture: observing

withall, that where that is not becoming, nothing else hardly

pleases.

But even independent of that consideration, nothing is more

generally confessed, than that this branch of breeding qualifies

persons for presenting themselves with a good grace. To whom can

it be unknown that a favorable prepossession at the first sight

is often of the highest advantage; and that the power of first

impressions is not easily surmountable?

In assemblies or places of public resort, when we see a person

of a genteel carriage or presence, he attracts our regard and

liking, whether he be a foreigner or one of this country. At

court, even a graceful address, and an air of ease, will more

distinguish a man from the croud, than the richest cloaths that

money may purchase; but can never give that air to be acquired

only by education.

There are indeed who, from indolence or self-sufficiency, affect

a sort of carelessness in their gait, as disdaining to be

obliged to any part of their education, for their external

appearance, which they abandon to itself under the notion of its

being natural, free, and easy.

But while they avoid, as they imagine, the affectation of

over-nicety, they run into that of a vicious extreme of

negligence, which proves nothing but either a deficiency of

breeding, or if not that, a high opinion of themselves, with

what is not at all unconsequential to that, a contempt of

others.

Such are certainly much mistaken, if they imagine that an art,

which is principally designed to correct defects, should leave

so capital an one subsisting as that of want of ease, and

freedom, in the gesture and gait. On the contrary, it is as

great an enemy to stiffness, as it is to looseness of carriage,

and air. It equally reprobates an ungainly rusticity, and a

mincing, tripping, over-soft manner. Its chief aim is to bring

forth the natural graces, and not to smother them with

appearances of study and art.

But of all the people in the world, the British would certainly

be the most in the wrong for not laying a great enough stress on

this part of education; since none have more conspicuously the

merit of figure and person; and it would in them be a sort of

ingratitude to Nature, who has done so much for them, not to do

a little more for themselves, in acquiring an accomplishment,

the utility of which has been acknowledged in all ages, and in

all countries, and especially by the greatest and most sensible

men in their own.

As to the ladies, there is one light in which perhaps they would

not do amiss to view the practice of this art, besides that of

mere diversion or improvement of their deportment: it is that of

its being highly serviceable to their health, and to what it can

never be expected they should be indifferent about, their

beauty, it being the best and surest way of preserving, or even

giving it to their whole person.

It is in history a settled point, that beauty was no where more

florishing, nor less rare, than among such people as encouraged

and cultivated exercise, especially in the fair sex. The various

provinces and governments in Greece, all agreed, some in a less,

some in a greater degree, in making exercise a point of female

education. The Spartans carried this to perhaps an excess, since

the training of the children of that sex, hardly yielded to that

of the male in laboriousness and fatigue. Be this confessed to

be an extreme: but then it was in some measure compensated by

its being universally allowed, that the Spartan women owed to it

that beauty in which they excelled the rest of the Grecian

women, who were themselves held, in that point, preferable to

the rest of the world. Hellen was a Spartan. Yet the legislator

of that people, did not so much as consider this advantage among

the ends proposed in prescribing so hardy an education to the

weaker sex. His views were for giving them that health and vigor

of body, which might enable them to produce a race of men the

fittest to serve their country in war.

But as the best habit of body is ever inseparable from the

greatest perfection of beauty, of which its possessor is

susceptible, it very naturally followed, that the good plight to

which exercise brought and preserved the females, gave also to

their shape, that delicacy and suppleness, and to their every

motion, that graceful agility which caracterized the Grecian

beauties, and distinguished them for that nymph-stile of figure,

which we to this day admire in the description of their

historians, of their poets, or in the representations that yet

remain to us in their statues, or other monuments of antiquity.

But omitting to insist on the Spartan austerity, and especially

on their gimnastic training for both sexes, and to take the

milder methods of exercise in use among the Grecians, we find

that the chace, that foot-races, and especially dancing,

principally composed the amusement of the young ladies of that

country; where, in the great days of Greece, no maxim ever more

practically prevailed, than that sloth or inactivity was equally

the parent of diseases of the body, as of vices of the mind.

Agreeable to which idea, one of the greatest physicians now in

Europe, the celebrated Tronchin, while at Paris, vehemently

declaimed against this false delicacy and aversion against

exercise; from which the ladies, especially of the higher rank

of life, derived their bad habits of body, their pale color,

with all the principles of weakness, and of a puny diseased

constitution, which they necessarily intail on their innocent

children. Thence it was that he condemned the using oneself too

much to coaches or chairs, which, he observed, lowers the

spirits, thickens the humors, numbs the nerves, and cramps the

liberty of circulation.

Considering the efficacy of exercise, and that fashion has

abolished or at least confined among a very few, the more robust

methods of amusement, it can hardly not be eligible to cultivate

and encourage an art, so innocent and so agreeable as that of

dancing, and which at once unites in itself the three great

ends, of bodily improvement, of diversion, and of healthy

exercise. As to this last especially, it has this advantage, its

being susceptible at pleasure, of every modification, of being

carried from the gentlest degree of motion, up to that of the

most violent activity. And where riding is prescribed purely for

the sake of the power of the concussion resulting from it, to

prevent or to dissipate obstructions, the springs and agitations

of the bodily frame, in the more active kind of dances, can

hardly not answer the same purpose, especially as the motion is

more equitably diffused, and suffers no checks or partiality

from keeping the seat, as either in riding, or any other method

of conveyance. At least, such an entertainment, one would

imagine, preferable, for many reasons, to an excess of such

sedentary amusements as those of cards, and the like.

Certainly those of the fair sex who use exercise, will, in their

exemption from a depraved or deficient appetite, in the

freshness or in the glow of their color, in the firmness of

their make, in the advantages to their shape, in the goodness in

general of their constitution, find themselves not ill repaid

for conquering any ill-habit of false delicacy and sloth, to

which so many, otherwise fine young ladies, owe the disorders of

their stomach, their pale sickly hue, and that languid state of

health which must poison all their pleasures, and even endanger

their lives. These are not strained nor far-fetched

consequences.

But even as to those of either sex, the practice of dancing is

attended with obviously good effects. Such as are blessed by

nature with a graceful shape and are clean-limbed, receive still

greater ease and grace from it; while at the same time, it

prevents the gathering of those gross and foggy humors which in

time form a disagreeable and inconvenient corpulence. On the

other hand, those whose make and constitution occasion a kind of

heavy proportion, whose muscular texture is not distinct, whose

necks are short, shoulders round, chest narrow, and who, in

short are, what may be called, rather clumsy figures; these will

greatly find their account in a competent exercise of the art of

dancing, not only as it will give them a freedom and ease one

would not, at the first sight, imagine compatible with their

figure, but may contribute much to the cure, or at least to the

extenuation of such bodily defects, by giving a more free

circulation to the blood, a habit of sprightliness and agility

to the limbs, and preventing the accumulation of gross humors,

and especially of fat, which is itself not among the least

diseases, where it prevails to an excess. Not that I here mean

any thing so foolishly partial, as that nothing but dancing

could operate all this; but only place it among not the least

efficacious means.

Nothing is more certain than that exercises in general,

diversions, such as that of hunting, and the games of dexterity,

keep up the natural standard of strength and beauty, which

luxury and sloth are sure to debase.

Dancing furnishes then to the fair-sex, whose sphere of exercise

is naturally more confined than that of the men, at once a

salutary amusement, and an opportunity of displaying their

native graces. But as to men, fencing, riding and many other

improvements have also doubtless their respective merit, and

answer very valuable purposes.

But where only the gentlest exercise is requisite, the minuet

offers its services, with the greatest effect; and when

elegantly executed, forms one of the most agreeable fights

either in private or public assemblies, or, occasionally, even

on the theatre itself.

Yet I speak not of this dance here with any purpose of

specifying rules for its attainment. Such an attempt would be

vain and impracticable. Who does not know that almost every

individual learner requires different instructions? The laying a

stress on some particular motion or air which may be proper to

be recommended to one, must be strictly forbidden to another. In

some, their natural graces need only to be called forth; in

others the destroying them by affectation is to be carefully

checked. Where defects are uncurable, the teacher must show how

they may be palliated and sometimes even converted into graces.

It will easily then be granted that there is no such thing as

learning a minuet, or indeed any dance merely by book. The

dead-letter of it can only be conveyed by the noting or

description of the figure and of the mechanical part of it; but

the spirit of it in the graces of the air and gesture, and the

carriage of the dancer can only be practically taught by a good

master.

I have mentioned the distinction of a good master,

most assuredly not in the way of a vain silly hint of

self-recomdation; but purely for the sake of giving a caution,

too often neglected, against parents, or those charged with the

education of youth, placing children, at the age when their

muscles are most flexible, their limbs the most supple, and

their minds the most ductile, and who are consequently

susceptible of the best impressions, under such pretended

masters of this art, who can only give them the worst, and who,

instead of teaching, stand themselves in need of being taught.

The consequence then of such a bad choice, is, that young people

of the finest disposition in the world, contract, under such

teachers, bad, awkward habits, that are not afterwards easily

curable.

Those masters who possess the real grounds of their art, find in

their uniting their practice with their knowledge, resources

even against the usual depredations of age; which, though it may

deprive them of somewhat of their youthful vigor, has scarce a

sensible influence on their manner of performance. There will

still long remain to them the traces of their former excellence.

I have myself seen the celebrated Dupré, at near the age of

sixty, dance at Paris, with all the agility and sprightliness of

youth, and with such powers of pleasing, as if the graces _in

him_ had braved superannuation.

Such is the advantage of not having been content with a

superficial tincture of this art; or with a mere rote of

imitation, without an aim at excellence or originality.

But though there is no necessity for most learners to enter so

deep into the grounds and principles of the art, as those who

are to make it their profession, it is at least but doing

justice to one's scholars to give them those essential

instructions as to the graces of air, position, and gesture;

without which they can never be but indifferent performers.

For example, instead of being so often told to turn their toes

out, they should be admonished to turn their knees out, which

will consequently give the true direction to the feet. A due

attention should also be given to the motion of the instep, to

the air of sinking and rising; to the position of the hips,

shoulders, and body; to the graceful management of the arms, and

particularly to the giving the hand with a genteel manner, to

the inflections of the neck and head, and especially to the so

captivating modesty of the eye; in short, to the diffusing over

the whole execution, an air of noble ease, and of natural

gracefulness.

It might be too trite to mention here what is so indispensable

and so much in course, the strict regard to be paid to the

keeping time with the music.

Nothing has a better effect, nor more prepossessing in favor of

the performance to follow, than the bow or curtsy at the opening

the dance, made with an air of dignity and freedom. On the

contrary, nothing is more disgustful than that initial step of

the minuet, when auckwardly executed. It gives such an ill

impression as is not easily removed by even a good performance

in the remaining part of the dance.

There is another point of great importance to all, but to the

ladies especially, which is ever strictly recommended in the

teaching of the minuet; but which in fact, like most of the

other graces of that dance, extends to other occasions of

appearance in life. This point is the easy and noble port of the

head. Many very pretty ladies lose much of the effect of their

beauty, and of the signal power of the first impressions, as

they enter a room, or a public assembly, by a vulgar or improper

carriage of the head, either poking the neck, or stooping the

head, or in the other extreme, of holding it up too stiff, on

the Mama's perpetually teizing remonstrance, of "hold up your

head, Miss," without considering that merely bridling, without

the easy grace of a free play, is a worse fault than that of

which she will have been corrected.

Certainly nothing can give a more noble air to the whole person

than the head finely set, and turning gracefully, with every

natural occasion for turning it, and especially without

affectation, or stifly pointing the chin, as if to show which

way the wind sits.

But it must be impossible for those who stoop their heads down,

to give their figure any air of dignity, or grace of politeness.

They must always retain something of ignoble in their manner.

Nothing then is more recommendable than for those who are

naturally inclined to this defect, to endeavor the avoiding it

by a particular attention to this capital instruction in

learning the minuet. It is also not enough to take the

minuet-steps true to time, to turn out their knees, and to slide

their step neatly, if that flexibility, or rise and fall from

the graceful bending of the instep, is not attended to, which

gives so elegant an air to the execution either of the minuet,

or of the serious theatrical dances. Nothing can more than that,

set off or show the beauty of the steps.

It should also be recommended to the dancers of the minuet, ever

to have an expression of that sort of gaity and chearfulness in

the countenance, which will give it an amiable and even a noble

frankness. Nothing can be more out of character, or even

displeasing, than a froward or too pensive a look. There may be

a sprightly vacancy, an openness in the face, without the least

tincture of any indecent air of levity: as there may be a

captivating modesty, without any of that bashfulness which

arises either from low breeding, wrong breeding, or no breeding

at all.

But to execute a minuet in a very superior manner, it is

recommendable to enter into some acquaintance, at least, with

the principles of the serious or grave dances, with a naturally

genteel person, a superficial knowledge of the steps, and a

smattering of the rules, any one almost may soon be made to

acquit himself tolerably of a minuet; but to make a

distinguished figure, some notion of the depths and refinements

of the art, illustrated by proper practice, are required.

It is especially incumbent on an artist, not to rest satisfied

with having pleased: he should, from his knowledge of the

grounds of his art, be able to tell himself why he has pleased;

and thus by building upon solid principles, preferably to mere

lucky hits, or to transient and accidental advantages of form or

manner, insure the permanency of his power to please.

There is a vice in dancing, against which pupils cannot be too

carefully guarded; it is that of affectation. It is essentially

different from that desire of pleasing, which is so natural and

so consistent even with the greatest modesty, in that it always

builds on some falsity, mistaken for a means of pleasing, though

nothing can more surely defeat that intention; there is not an

axiom more true than that the graces are incompatible with

affectation. They vanish at the first appearance of it: and the

curse of affectation is, that it never but lets itself be seen,

and wherever it is seen, it is sure to offend, and to frustrate

its own design.

The simplicity of nature is the great fountain of all the

graces; from which they flow spontaneous, when unchecked by

affectation, which at once poisons and dries them up.

Nature does not refuse cultivation, but she will not bear being

forced. The great art of the dancing-master is not to give

graces, for that is impossible, but to call forth into a nobly

modest display those latent ones in his scholars, which may have

been buried for want of opportunities or of education to break

forth in their native lustre, or which have been spoiled or

perverted, by wrong instruction, or by bad models of imitations.

In this last case, the master's business is rather to extirpate

than to plant; to clear the ground of poisonous exotics, and to

make way for the pleasing productions of nature.

This admirable prerogative of pleasing, inseparable from the

natural graces, unpoisoned by affectation, is in nothing more

strongly exemplified, than in the rural dances, where simplicity

of manners, a sprightly ease, and an exemption from all design

but that of innocent mirth, give to the young and handsome

villagers, or country-maids, those inimitable graces for ever

unknown to artifice and affectation. Not but, even in those

rural assemblies, there may be found some characters tainted

with affectation; but then in the country they are exceptions,

whereas in town they constitute the generality, who are so apt

to mistake airs for graces, though nothing can be more

essentially different.

But how shall those masters guard a scholar sufficiently against

affectation, who are themselves notoriously infected with it?

Nay, this is so common to them, that it is even the foundation

of a proverbial remark, that no gentleman can be said to dance

well, who dances like a dancing-master. Those false refinements,

that finical, affected air so justly reproached to the

generality of teachers, a master should correct in himself

before he can well give lessons for avoiding them to his pupils.

And, in truth, they are but wretched substitutes to the true

grounds and principles of the art, in which nothing is more

strongly inculcated than the total neglect of them, and the

reliance on the engaging and noble simplicity of nature.

It is then no paradox to say that the more deep you are in the

art, the less will it stifle nature. On the contrary, it will,

in the noble assurance which a competent skill is sure to bring

with it, give to the natural graces a greater freedom and ease

of display. Imperfection of theory and practice cramps the

faculties; and gives either an unpleasing faulteringness to the

air, steps, and gestures, or wrong execution. And as the minuet

derives its merit from an observation of the most agreeable

steps, well chosen in nature and well combined by art, there is

no inconsistence in avering that art may, in this, as in many

other objects of imitative skill, essentially assist nature, and

place her in the most advantageous point of light.

The truth of this will be easily granted, by numbers who have

felt the pleasure of seeing a minuet gracefully executed by a

couple who understood this dance perfectly. Nay, excellence in

the performance of it, has given to an indifferent figure, at

least a temporary advantage over a much superior one in point of

person only; and sometimes an advantage of which the impression

has been more permanent.

But besides the effect of the moment in pleasing the spectators;

the being well versed in this dance especially contributes

greatly to form the gait, and address, as well as the manner in

which we should present ourselves. It has a sensible influence

in the polishing and fashioning the air and deportment in all

occasions of appearance in life. It helps to wear off any thing

of clownishness in the carriage of the person, and breathes

itself into otherwise the most indifferent actions, in a genteel

and agreeable manner of performing them.

This secret and relative influence of the minuet, _Marcel_, my

ever respected master, whom his own merit in his profession, and

the humorous mention of him by _Helvetius_, in his famous book

DE L'ESPRIT, have made so well known, constantly kept in view,

in his method of teaching it. His scholars were generally known

and distinguished from those of other masters, not only by their

excellence in actual dancing, but by a certain superior air of

easy-genteelness at other times. He himself danced the minuet to

its utmost perfection. Not that he confined his practice to that

dance alone; on the contrary, he confessed himself obliged for

his greatest skill in that, to his having a general knowledge of

all the other dances, which he had practised, but especially

those of the serious stile.

A Treatise on the Art of Dancing · 第 4 / 8 段