first principle in this elegant art, I shall suggest a few remarks on
the leading characters of each style; and from them, I hope, my fair
friends will be able to gather some rules which may serve them as
useful auxiliaries to the lessons of their dancing-master.
The English country-dance, as its very name implies, consists of
simplicity and cheerfulness; hence the female who engages in it, must
aim at nothing more, in treading its easy mazes, than executing a few
simple steps with unaffected elegance. Her body, her arms, the turn of
her head, the expression of her countenance, all must bear the same
character of negligent grace, of elegant activity, of decorous gaiety.
The Scotch reel has steps appropriated to itself, and in the dance
can never be displaced for those of France, without an absurdity too
ridiculous even to imagine without laughing. There are no dancers
in the world more expressive of inward hilarity and happiness than
the Scotch are, when performing in their own reels. The music is
sufficient--so jocund are its sounds--to set a whole company on their
feet in a moment, and to dance with all their might, till it ceases,
like people bit by the tarantula. Hence, as the character of reels is
merriment, they must be performed with much more _joyance_ of manner
than even the country-dance; and, therefore, they are better adapted,
as society is now constituted, to the social private circle, than to
the public ball. They demand a frankness of deportment, an undisguised
jocularity, which few large parties will properly admit; therefore,
they are more at home in the baronial and kindred-filled hall of the
thane of the Highland clan, than in the splendid and mixed ball-room of
the now modish Anglo-Scottish earl.
French dances, which includes minuets, cotillons, and all the round of
_ballet_ figures, admit of every new refinement and dexterity in the
agile art; and, while exhibiting in them, there is no step, no turn,
no attitude, within the verge of maiden delicacy, that the dancer may
not adopt and practise.
I must acknowledge that there is something in the harmonious and
undulating movements of the minuet, particularly pleasing to my idea
of female grace and dignity; and I remember seeing her Highness the
Princess de P----, at the court of Naples, go through the _minuet de la
Cour_ with so eminent a degree of enchanting elegance, that there was
not a person present who was not in raptures with her deportment.
The young Archduke, C----, of A----, was then a youth, and an incognito
visitant with the Prince de V---- F----, and he was so charmed with
the dancing of her highness, whose partner was the renowned General
Marchese di M----, that, in his own heroic manner, he exclaimed to me,
who then sat by his side,--“Ah! madam, that is more interesting than
even the Pyrrhic dance! It reminds me of the beautiful movement of the
sun and moon in the heavens!”
The _minuet_ is now almost out of fashion, but we yet have its serious
movements in many of the dances adopted from the French _ballet_; and
in these every gradation of grace, and, if I may say it, sentiment
in action, may be discovered. The rapid changes of the cotillon
are admirably calculated for the display of elegant gaiety; and I
hope that their animated evolvements will long continue a favorite
accomplishment and amusement with our youthful fair.
Though much of graceful display is made in these dances, yet there are
many rivals in the cotillon contending for the palm of superiority;
and the contest, throughout, if maintained with the original elegant
decorum of the design, may be continued with undeviating modesty and
discretion.
But with regard to the lately introduced German waltz, I cannot speak
so favorably; I must agree with Goethé, when writing of the national
dance of his country, “that none but husbands and wives can with any
propriety be partners in the waltz.”
There is something in the close approximation of persons, in the
attitudes, and in the motion, which ill agrees with the delicacy of
woman, should she be placed in such a situation with any other man than
the most intimate connexion she can have in life. Indeed, I have often
heard men, of no very over-strained feeling, say, “that there are very
few women in the world with whom they could bear to dance the German
waltz.”
The fandango, though graceful in its own country--because danced,
from custom, with as reserved a mind as our maidens would make
a courtsy,--is, nevertheless, when attempted here, too great a
display of the person for any modest Englishwoman to venture. It
is a solo! Imagine what must be the assurance of the young woman,
who, unaccustomed by the habits of her country to such singular
exhibitions of herself, could get up in a room full of company, and,
with an unblushing face, go through all the evolutions, postures, and
vaultings, of the Spanish fandango? Certainly, there are few discreet
men in England who would say, “such a woman I should like for my wife!”
The castanets, which are used in this dance, by attracting
extraordinary attention, afford another argument against its being
adopted anywhere but on the stage. The tambourin, the cymbals, and all
other noisy accompaniments, in the hands of a lady-dancer, are equally
blameable; and though a woman may, by their means, exhibit her agility
and person to advantage, she may depend on it, that while the artist
only is admired, the woman will sink into contempt; and that, though
she may possibly meet with lovers to throw a score of embroidered
handkerchiefs at her feet, she will hardly encounter one of a thousand
who will venture to trust himself to the offering her the bond of a
single gold ring.
The bullero, another of our Spanish importations, is a dance of so
questionable a description, that I cannot but proscribe it also. It may
be performed with perfect modesty; but the sentiment of it depends so
entirely on the disposition of the dancer, that Delicacy dare hardly
venture to enrol herself in its lists, lest the partner chosen for her
might be of a temper to turn its gaiety into licentiousness; to produce
blushes of shame where she promised herself the glow of pleasure, and
send her away from what ought to have been an innocent amusement,
filled with the bitterness of insulted delicacy.
In short, in addressing my fair countrywomen on this subject, I would
sum up my advice, in regard to the choice of dances, by warning
them against the introduction of new-fangled fashions of this sort.
Let them leave the languishing and meretricious attitudes of modern
_ballet_-teachers to the dancing-girls of India, or to the Circassian
slaves of Turkey, whose disgraceful business is to please a tyrant for
whom they can feel no love.
Let our British fair also turn away from the almost equally unchaste
dances of the southern kingdoms of the continent, and, content with
the gay step of France, and the active merriment of Scotland, with
their own festive movements, continue their native country balls to
their blameless delight, and to the gratification of every tasteful and
benevolent observer.
While thus remarking on the manner of dancing, it may not be
unacceptable to add a few words on the dress most appropriate to its
light and unembarrassed motions.
Long trains are, of course, too cumbrous an appendage to be
intentionally assumed when proposing to dance; but it must also be
remarked, that very short petticoats are as inelegant as the others
are inconvenient. Scanty circumscribed habiliments impede the action
of the limbs, and, besides their indelicacy, show the leg in the least
graceful of all possible points of view. The most elegant attire for
a ball is, that the under garments should be absolutely short, but
the upper one, which should be of light material, should reach at
least to the top of the instep. It should also be sufficiently full
to fall easily in folds from the waist downwards to the foot. By this
arrangement, when the dancer begins her graceful exercise, the drapery
will elegantly adapt itself to the motion and contour of her limbs; and
falling accidentally on her foot, or as accidentally when she bounds
along, discovering, under its flying folds, her beautifully-turned
ankle. Symmetry and grace will be occasionally displayed, almost
unconsciously, and thus Modesty, taken unawares, will adorn, with
blushes, the perfect lineaments of female beauty.
What has been said in behalf of simple and appropriate dancing, may
also be whispered in the ear of the fair practitioner in music; and, by
analogy she may, not unbeneficially, apply the suggestions to her own
case.
There are many young women, who, when they sit down to the piano or
the harp, or to sing, twist themselves into so many contortions, and
writhe their bodies and faces about into such actions and grimaces,
as would almost incline one to believe that they are suffering under
the torture of the toothach, or the gout. Their bosoms heave, their
shoulders shrug, their heads swing to the right and left, their lips
quiver, their eyes roll; they sigh, they pant, they seem ready to
expire! And what is all this about? They are merely playing a favorite
concerto, or singing a new Italian song.
If it were possible for these conceit-intoxicated warblers, these
languishing dolls, to guess what rational spectators say of their
follies, they would be ready to break their instruments and be dumb
forever. What they call _expression in singing_, at the rate they would
show it, is only fit to be exhibited on the stage, when the character
of the song intends to portray the utmost ecstasy of passion to a
sighing swain. In short, such an echo to the words and music of a love
ditty, is very improper in any young woman who would wish to be thought
as pure in heart as in person. If amatory addresses are to be sung, let
the expression be in the voice and the composition of the air, not in
the looks and gestures of the lady-singing. The utmost that she ought
to allow herself to do, when thus breathing out the accents of love, is
to wear a serious, tender countenance. More than this is bad, and may
produce reflections in the minds of the hearers very inimical to the
reputation of the fair warbler.
While touching on song, it may not be unwelcome to my truly virgin
readers to have their own delicate rejections sanctioned by a matron’s
judgment against a horde of amorous legends, now chanted forth in
almost every assembly, where they put their heads. Pretty music, and
elegant poetry, seem sufficient excuses to obtain, in these days, not
only pardon, but approbation, for the most exceptionable verses that
can fall from the pen of man. Such madrigals are now sung with equal
applause by mother and daughter, chaste and unchaste; all unite in
shamelessly breathing forth words, (and with appropriate languishments
too,) which hardly would become the lips of a Thais! Libertines may
feel pleasure in such exhibitions--men of principle must turn away
disgusted.
Set then this music of Paphos far aside; instead of songs of wantons,
if we are to have amatory odes, let us listen to the chaste pleadings
of a Petrarch, to the mutual vows of virtuous attachment. My young
friend may then sing with downcast eyes and timid voice, but no blush
needs to stain her cheek--no thrill of shame shake her bosom. She
merely chants of nature’s feelings; and Modesty veiling the sensibility
she describes, angels might “lean from heaven to hear.”
By this slight sketch, my dear readers will perceive that I mean
_simplicity_ to be the principle and the decoration of all their
actions; as it should pervade them in the dance, so it should imbue
their voice and action in playing and in singing.
Let their attitude at the piano or the harp be easy and graceful. I
strongly exhort them to avoid a stiff, awkward, elbowing position at
either; they must observe an elegant flow of figure at both. The latter
certainly admits of most grace, as the shape of the instrument is
calculated, in every respect, to show a fine figure to advantage. The
contour of the whole form, the turn and polish of a beautiful hand and
arm, the richly-slippered and well-made foot on the pedal stops, the
gentle motion of a lovely neck, and, above all, the sweetly-tempered
expression of an intelligent countenance; these are shown at one glance
when the fair performer is seated unaffectedly, yet gracefully, at the
harp.
Similar beauty of position may be seen in a lady’s management of a
lute, a guitar, a mandolin, or a lyre. The attitude at a pianoforte,
or at a harpsichord, is not so happily adapted to grace. From the
shape of the instrument, the performer must sit directly in front of a
straight line of keys; and her own posture being correspondingly erect
and square, it is hardly possible that it should not appear rather
inelegant. But if it attain not the _ne plus ultra_ of grace, at least
she may prevent an air of stiffness; she may move her hands easily
on the keys, and bear her head with that elegance of carriage which
cannot fail to impart its own character to the whole of her figure.
One of the most graceful forms that I ever saw sit at an instrument,
is that of St. Cecilia, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds, playing on
the organ. It is the portrait of the late Mrs. R. B. Sheridan; and,
from the simplicity of the attitude, and the graceful elevation of the
head, it is, without exception, one of the most interesting pictures I
ever beheld. A living instance of what beauty and grace, elegance and
propriety combined, can do, has always been admired in the Marchioness
of D---- by all those who ever had the felicity to see and hear her
at the piano; an engraving of her portrait, in that attitude, would
teach every female lover of the art unaffected elegance, much more
effectually than all that the advices and ability of masters can ever
be able to perform.
If ladies, in meditating on grace of deportment, would rather consult
the statues of fine sculptors, and the figures of excellent painters,
than the lessons of their dancing-masters, or the dictates of their
looking-glasses, we should, doubtless, see simplicity where we now
find affectation, and a thousand ineffable graces taking place of the
present _régime_ of absurdity and conceit.
It was by studying the perfect sculpture of Greece and Rome, that a
certain lady of rank, eminent for her peculiarly beautiful attitudes,
acquired so great a superiority in mien above her fair contemporaries
of every court in which she became an inmate. It was by meditating on
the classic pictures of Poussin, that one of the first tragic actresses
on the French stage learnt to move and look like the _daughter of the
sun_. And by a similar study, has our own Melpomene caught inspiration
from the pencil of Corregio and Rubens.
Glancing at the graphic art, reminds me that some degree of proficiency
in this interesting accomplishment is also an object of study with my
fair young countrywomen. I shall not make any observation on their
progress in the art itself, but only with regard to their manner of
practising it.
Both for health and beauty’s sake, they should be careful not to stoop
too much, or to sit too long in the exercise of the pencil. A bending
position of the chest and head, when frequently assumed, is apt to
contract the lungs, round the back, redden the face, and give painful
digestions and headach. An awkward posture in writing, reading, or
sewing, is productive of the same bad effects; and, what may seem
almost incredible, (but many who have witnessed the same, can, I am
sure, give their evidence in support of my representation,) there are
young persons, who, when writing, drawing, reading, or working, keep a
sort of ludicrous time with their occupations, by making a succession
of unmeaning and hideous grimaces. I have seen a pretty young woman,
while writing a letter to her lover, draw up her lips, and twist the
muscles of her face in every direction that her pen moved; and so ugly
did she look during this sympathetic performance, that I could not
forbear thinking that, could her swain see the object then dictating
her vows, he would take fright at the metamorphosis, and never be made
to believe it could be the same person.
Mumbling to yourself, while reading, is also another very inelegant
habit. A person should either read determinately so much aloud as to
be heard distinctly by the company present, or peruse her book without
even moving her lips. An inward muttering, or a silent motion of the
mouth, while reading, is equally unpleasant to the observer, and
disfiguring to the observed.
In short, there is nothing, however minute in manners, however
insignificant in appearance, that does not demand some portion of
attention from a well-bred and highly-polished young woman. An author
of no small literary renown, has observed, that several of the minutest
habits or acts of some individuals, may give sufficient reasons to
guess at their temper. The choice of a gown, or even the folding
and sealing of a letter, will bespeak the shrew and the scold, the
careless and the negligent. This observation I have made myself, not
only in this, but in several other countries. The Marchioness of B----
addressed me, a few years ago, in a letter so cleanly folded, so
carefully sealed, that I was really prejudiced in her favor, ere I saw
that my surmises were right; and the flame-color ribbon, fluttering
about the Hon. Mrs. D.’s head, had given me a foreboding of her
acrimonious and fiery disposition. These fine and almost imperceptible
objects are the touches which bring the whole to its utmost perfection.
They are the varnish to the picture, the polish to the gem, the points
to the diamond.
I will go further upon this subject. The very voice of an individual,
the tone she assumes in speaking to strangers, or even familiarly to
her friends, will lead a keen observer to discover what elements her
temper is made of. The low key belongs to the sullen, sulky, obstinate,
the shrill note to the petulant, the pert, the impatient; some will
pronounce the common and trite question “how _do_ you _do_?” with such
harshness and raucity, that they seem positively angry with you that
you should ever _do_ at all. Some effect a lispingness, which at once
betrays childishness and downright nonsense; others will bid their
words to gallop so swiftly, that the ablest ear is unable to follow the
rapid race, and gathers nothing but confused and unmeaning sounds. All
these extremes are to be avoided; and, although nature has differently
formed the organs of speech for different individuals, yet there is a
mode to correct nature’s own aberrations. I have heard of sensible
men, who, merely for the tone of voice which did not quite harmonize
with their ears, have dropped their connexion with women, who, in all
other points were unexceptionable.
Admit this, and another salutary truth will be made manifest. If
good-breeding and graceful refinement are ever _most proper_, they
are always so. It is not sufficient that Amaryllis is amiable and
elegant in her whole deportment to strangers and to her acquaintance;
she must be undeviatingly so to her most intimate friends, to nearest
relations, to father, mother, brothers, sisters, husband. She must have
no _dishabille_ for them, either of mind or person.
This last word inclines me to pursue the hint further; to exhort my
fair readers, while I plead for consistency in manners, also to carry
the analogy to dress. If they would always appear amiable, elegant,
and endearing to the beings with whom they are to spend their lives,
let them always make those beings the first objects for whose pleasure
their accomplishments, their manners, and their dress are to be
cultivated. Let them never appear before these tender relatives in the
disgusting negligence of disordered and soiled clothes. By this has
many a lovely girl lost her lover; and by this has many an amiable wife
alienated the affections of her husband.
Let me, then, in concluding this chapter, again repeat, that
consistency is the soul of female power, the charm of her fascination,
the bond of her social happiness.
CONTINUATION OF THE SAME SUBJECT.
“Observe the just gradation of degree.”
The carriage of a woman to her equals being founded on a just
appreciation of their merits, and a proper respect to herself, the same
sentiment will be found to pervade her conduct to her superiors in rank.
With regard to men, when they occupy a higher station than herself, she
must proportion reverential courtesy to them, according to the rules of
court ceremony. If she knows them merely as officers high in authority
under the king, or as nobles distinguished by their honors, her manner
must then be of calm, dignified respect. But when she finds that merit
is yet higher in any of these men than his titles, then, let her show
the homage of the soul, as well as that of the body; for real greatness
ennobles the head which bows.
With regard to her own sex, the same rule must be observed. There are
certain regulations in society which are called Laws of Precedence.
They are of as much use in maintaining a due and harmonious order
amongst civilized men and women, as the law of attraction is to
preserve the heavenly bodies in their proper orbits. As one star
differs from another in magnitude and splendor, in proportion to the
destiny it hath to fulfil; so do the talents and degrees of men vary
according to the allotted duties they have to perform. Hence, as in
astronomy, we think not of despising Mercury, because he is not as
large as Saturn, nor of speaking of our own Earth as a planet of no
account, because she has not four moons like Jupiter; so, by parity of
reasoning, we do not esteem our inferiors or equals the less, because
they do not fill the first orders in society. All ranks have their
proper place, the station in which they can be the most useful; and it
is in proportion as they perform their respective duties, that we must
respect the individuals.
We, therefore, regard society as a grand machine, in which each member
has the place best fitted for him; or, to make use of a more common
illustration, as a vast drama, in which every person has the part
allotted to him most appropriate to his abilities. One enacts the
King, others the Lords, others the Commons; but all obey the Great
Director, who best knows what is in man. Regarding things in this
light, all arrogance, all pride, all envyings and contempt of others,
from their relative degrees, disappear, as emotions to which we have no
pretensions. We neither endowed ourselves with high birth or eminent
talents. We are altogether beings of a creation independent of our own
will; and, therefore, bearing our own honors as a gift, not as a right,
we should condescend to our inferiors, (whose place it might have been
our lot to fill,) and regard with deference our superiors, whom Heaven,
by so elevating, has intended that we should respect.
This sentiment of order in the mind, this conviction of the beautiful
harmony in a well-organized civil society, gives us dignity with our
inferiors, without alloying it with the smallest particle of pride;
by keeping them at a due distance, we merely maintain ourselves and
them in the rank in which a higher Power has placed us; and the
condescension of our general manners to them, and our kindness in their
exigencies, and generous approbation of their worth, are sufficient
acknowledgments of sympathy, to show that we avow the same nature with
themselves, the same origin, the same probation, the same end.