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.