An oval, well-rounded chin is one of the most important elements of
formal beauty, and is a characteristic trait of humanity; for man is the
only animal that has a chin. Lavater distinguishes three principal
varieties of chin: the receding chin, which is peculiar to lower races
and types; the chin which does not project beyond a line dropped from
the lips; and the chin which does project beyond that line. Of all parts
of the face the chin has the least variety of form and capability of
emotional expression. Physiognomists have expended much ingenuity in
attempting to trace a connection between various forms of the chin and
traits of character; but their generalisations have no scientific value.
It is probable that often a very small, weak chin indicates weak desires
and a vacillating character, while an energetic chin, like Richard
Wagner’s, indicates the iron will of a reformer. But the connection
between the development of the brain and special modifications of the
bones of the chin is too remote to permit a safe inference in individual
cases.
In ancient Egyptian art, as Winckelmann points out, “the chin is always
somewhat small and receding, whereby the oval of the face becomes
imperfect.”
One of the most essential conditions of beauty in a chin, if we may
judge by the descriptions of novelists, is a dimple. Yet it is doubtful
whether a dimple can ever be accepted as a special mark of beauty.
Temporary dimples (for the production of which there seems to be a
special muscle) are interesting as a mode of transient emotional
expression. But permanent dimples interrupt the regular gradation of the
beauty-curve, and too often indicate that the plump roundness, so
fascinating in a woman’s face, has passed the line which indicates
corpulence and obliterates the delicate lines of expression.
Dimples occur not only in the chin, but also in the cheek, at the
elbow-joints, on the back, and in plump female hands at the knuckles.
They are caused by a dense tissue of fibres, blood-vessels, and nerves
holding down the skin tightly in one place, and thus preventing such an
accumulation of fat between the skin and muscles as is seen in the
surrounding parts.
Tommaseo (quoted by Mantegazza) probably had in mind the connection
between corpulence and mental indolence when he said that “a dimple in
the chin indicates more physical than mental grace.”
“As a dimple—by the Greeks termed νύμφη—is an isolated and somewhat
accidental adjunct to the chin, it was not,” says Winckelmann, “regarded
by the Greek artists as an attribute of abstract and pure beauty, though
it is so considered by modern writers.” With a few unimportant
exceptions, it is not found in “any beautiful ideal figure which has
come down to us.” And although Varro prettily calls a dimple in a statue
of Bathyllus an impress from the finger of Cupid, Winckelmann thinks
that when dimples do occur in Greek art works they must be attributed to
a conscious deviation from the highest principles of art for the sake of
personal portraiture. “In images whose beauties were of a lofty cast,
the Greek artists never allowed a dimple to break the uniformity of the
chin’s surface. Its beauty, indeed, consists in the rounded fulness of
its arched form, to which the lower lip, when full, imparts additional
size.”