“The end and aim of all our work should be the harmonious growth of our whole being,” says FrÖebel. “Know thyself,” quoth Epictetus, the Stoic, and, knowing thyself, grow strong of mind, self-centered and self-possessed. “Know thyself,” reiterates the modern disciple of Delsarte, since only by knowledge of self can be developed the real personality of the individual.

Grace and self-possession are the aim of Delsarte; it therefore fairly falls within the province of a work on etiquette to look somewhat into the subject. If one would control others he must first control himself, possess himself. Delsarte looked upon the nature of man as a trinity, and believed that the mental, moral and physical should be educated at the same time. Modern education tends to develop man in special directions to the neglect of others. Either the overstrained mental faculties revenge themselves by giving us the nervous, broken-down, mental type so common; or else we have the crude physical type wherein ordinary labor has exercised but a few muscles and joints.

The Three Languages.

Again, says Delsarte, “Man has for the expression of his triune nature three languages, the word, the tone, the gesture. Tones express bodily conditions, pleasure or pain. Words are symbols to interpret thought. Gestures relate to other beings and express our emotions. Of these three, the first receives undue cultivation, since we study all the words that have been said or written, while singers and actors alone cultivate tone or gesture.”

Thus it comes that “the soul struggles to speak through an imperfect instrument; sometimes it ceases to struggle and finally has nothing to say.”

In labor the man moves, special muscles do special work, but when a man is moved, an undulating “wave of feeling passes over him and his whole body becomes eloquent.” A bow may be so careless and jerky as to be almost an insult, or it may be so gracious as to seem a caress. Again, the real self, gracious and beautiful, may strive to express itself through a set of faculties that are hardened and narrowed by decades of self-constraint on the part of himself and his ancestors.

“Physical habits have a way of making themselves felt by a reflex action on the inner nature,” and with this axiom in view we feel that cultivation of the Delsartean Art of Expression becomes a vital part of our education to the end that all our emotions and all our tones may become “the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual nature.” This principle may be called the keynote of Delsarteanism, and Edmond Russell, that modern exponent thereof, claims that as these beautiful, expressive gymnastics are for the purpose of correcting individual deviations from grace, no regular set of rules should be printed for the use of all, but that each special angularity of person or harshness of tone must be corrected by special exercises.

Harmonious Development of the Body.

Nevertheless, there are many set forms of movements by the practice of which none can fail to derive benefit both for the inner and the outer man. Other physical gymnastics seek to give strength to certain sets of muscles to the neglect of others. The rythmical movements of the Delsarte system bring into action each muscle of the body without wearying any, to the harmonious developing of all, since in all, save exceptional cases, it will be found, upon beginning this treatment, that more than half the muscles of the body are unused, while the other, and overworked half, move in stiff and angular fashion.

All students will discover it is first requisite that an “undoing process” shall precede the “upbuilding process.” Stiffness of joint, or tension of muscles, whether recognized or not, must first be done away with before “the body can be molded to the expression of high thought.” For this purpose the “decomposing,” “relaxing” or “devitalizing” motions are given. The old gymnast doubled up the fist and, with great tension, gave a blow which jarred the whole nervous system. The “freeing” motions of Delsarte give harmonious, restful, wave movements to all portions of the anatomy.

Graceful motions are never in the nature of a blow struck straight from the shoulder, but curves and spirals constitute the lines of beauty. Nature shows us this in the free untrammelled motions of a child, or again in man, when his whole nature is so stirred to its best and sweetest depths that he is carried out of his usual tense, conscious self into unconscious rhythmic expression of his feeling. What nature does for us in times of great excitement Delsarte will do for us at all times by means of his exercises, practiced until the conscious mechanical motion becomes unconscious, automatic, and the body grows responsive to all high emotions and impulses.

Relaxing the Muscles.

In relaxing movements, the whole arm and hand, shoulder, elbow, wrist, fingers, are shaken until the joints are completely relaxed and a warm, tingling sensation passes through the entire arm. It is then dropped at the side in perfect passivity. The result is twofold—a feeling of repose and controlling power, and an absence of that nervous tendency to “fidget,” or handle something, glove buttons, or watch chain, without which a morning call can scarcely be accomplished by either hostess or guest. This alone will give us a sense of perfect rest which we have never before experienced. Similar exercises are given for other portions of the body—legs and feet—a revolving of the head to limber the neck; a revolution of the shoulders and the body to gain that flexibility which is the secret of grace.

Delsartean exercises break up constrained awkward physical habits, establish in their stead restful, graceful, natural ones. Of these there are many classes.

The Delsarte relaxing exercises precede and prepare the way for all others. In their restful removal of nerve-tension they appeal especially to the overworked, nervous class.

The Delsarte sleep exercises are useful in overcoming insomnia. The Delsarte laws of expression give us a key to character, study, and the laws that underlie all art. The Delsarte work develops self-possession. The Delsarte rythmical exercises enable one not only to appear better and feel better, but, by a reflex action, to be better.

In this physical work the first object is an entire, absolute letting go of all unnecessary tension, all tension that has overstrained the muscles through an excess of effort in our daily life, though many times this effort is purely unconscious on the part of the individual. “How many a patient, trusting soul do we see with the muscles of the forehead strained and elevated until the eyebrows never fall to their normal height,” or the brows are contracted until the hard lines graven between the eyes ever bespeak either pain or care.

The founders of the Benedictine nuns caught some echo of this truth when, by a rule of their order, no sister among them is permitted to wear a frown upon her brow. And the placid-faced sisterhood evidence in their sweet expressions the close relation between the exoteric and esoteric of our natures; the reflex action between the physical and the spiritual entities of our being.

Art of Breathing.

There are a few general points that may be given here to the improvement of many little habits that unconsciously enslave us and to the “letting go” of the “officious personal endeavor” that we make, as it were, to hold ourselves together—never believing that nature is more capable of the task. After the decomposing exercises comes the practice of one of the first Delsartean axioms: “Control at the center, freedom at the extremities.” Without this control the newly acquired flexibility will be weak and affected.

To obtain this control the art of breathing must first be acquired. To do this properly the chest should be inflated and thrown forward by the action of the diaphragm and held as the most prominent part of the body; a position too often usurped by the inferior abdomen. The same motion which throws out the chest should draw in the lower part of the trunk, hanging it from the curve of the spine. In the proper attitude for good breathing the hips turn slightly inward and the chin goes back, but not up. There should be no effort to throw back the shoulders. Take care of the chest, and the shoulders will take care of themselves.

Position of the Shoulders.

Mrs. Edmond Russell says she would “like to make a call that would reach every man and woman in the country. ‘Lift up your shoulders.’ When one says this nine-tenths of them stiffen at the neck, throw themselves backward and project the body below the waist, the whole figure out of line. No, you should get the poise of a Greek goddess.” Lift the chest, with the shoulders down, until it is on a line with the toes. This throws the extension on the center of the body where it should be. The heart and lungs now have full play. Close the lips; draw in the air through the nostrils, using the muscles below the diaphragm as a bellows, until the pressure against the ribs has a bursting sensation. Keep this tension firmly and steadily as long as you can; then slowly and gradually let the breath out through the lips. If you wish to sing, or recite, or even to talk, see what power is at your command.

“Try this breathing, inspiration, retention, expiration—these three movements—at night before you go to bed, when the body is free; in the morning before you dress. When you walk take in great, glorious lungsful of air until full, or deep breathing becomes a habit. Believe me, breathing properly is a certain cure for nervousness, shyness and embarrassment.”

It gives command and freedom of motion, a sense of power. Keep the lips closed and breathe only through the nostrils. This is a most important fact to remember, and should always be impressed upon children. The cold air should never be taken directly into the lungs as is the case when it is inhaled through the parted lips. Children, as well as grown people, should learn to keep the mouth closed during sleep; this would prevent many lung diseases, the disagreeable habit of snoring, and the vacant, inane expression produced by an open mouth.

There is no better exercise to acquire a good habit of breathing than reading aloud. Try how much can be read easily, without strain, upon a single inflation of the lungs. Never gasp, catch up, or piece out a breath. “You may add years to your life by the simple act of breathing.” Every public speaker knows, or should know, the feeling of repose and self-possession that comes over him as he calmly, silently, faces his audience long enough to draw three of these deep, full breaths. Nervousness has vanished; he and his audience have had time to become acquainted, and, having command over himself, he is able to command the minds of those before him.

Standing and Walking.

When one has learned to breathe properly, then it is that standing and walking may be practiced. Lift up the chest, inflate the lungs naturally, as in paragraph on breathing, then step up to the front of a door, letting the toes touch the woodwork. At the same time the forehead should meet the upper portion of the door, when it may be assumed that a perfect standing posture has been taken. The poise will seem at first to be a little forward of a straight line, but to disprove this it will be found that a plumb line dropped from the ear will fall through shoulder, hip and ankle. The head will be poised as if to carry a burden steadily on the crown and the weight of the body will rest on the ball of the foot, not the heel.

This position may seem insecure at first, as well as stiff and self-conscious. With some this sensation will wear off sooner than with others, according to their adaptability, and the result will be assured power for long, graceful, strengthening walks.

In walking, a common fault is to let the knees bend continuously; this gives a “flabbyness” to the whole personal expression, that always seems an outward exponent of a “weak-kneed” character. The knees, to obviate this, should be stiffened when walking. In the other extreme, most women stiffen the ankle-joint unduly, thus giving a straight up and down cramped walk, which is accompanied by coming down with all force upon the heel, thereby producing a jar throughout the entire nervous system, as well as an awkward locomotion. In this way all benefit of the strong, natural spring of the instep, which tends to lessen this jar and give grace and springiness to the step is lost, and much weariness of the flesh is the result.

Mrs. Russell says: “We have a system of levers to do our walking with, and they act precisely as do all levers. One leg is a lever to pry the body over the other leg, and the latter becomes a pendulum and swings back by force of gravity. When you walk three miles and feel as if you could walk ten, you are walking that way. When you are tired out, you are taking irregular steps and walking on your heels.

“In walking the foot should be used as an elastic arch, the ball striking the ground first, not the heel. Trying to step too far is productive of awkwardness. Hurrying is another cause. It is bad walking to lift up your foot and put it down. If the sole of the foot shows at all, it should be from the rear. What is wanting is elasticity. Swinging the arms in walking, which is universal, is absolutely unnecessary, and purely a waste of strength. Let them hang pendulum fashion.”

Stair-Climbing.

“Trained stair-climbers should be the healthiest as well as the most beautiful of women, yet,” says Mrs. Russell, “a town of stairs given, and I will prophesy thin, eye-circled, cross-looking women.” All of this is to be laid to the fact that most women climb stairs in the hardest and most awkward manner.

“In going upstairs there should be no waddling from side to side, no trudging, no leaning forward, and no apparent weariness. The body should remain erect, the step should be taken with the ball of the foot, and the movement to the next step be made with a springing motion. This produces a graceful, poetic elevation instead of a cumbersome hauling of the body upward, and throws all of the strain upon the strong muscles of the calf of the leg. This slightly accented springing from step to step leads the true system of pacing on level ground; hence, the stairway may be made the walker’s gymnasium.”

Art of “Letting Go.”

“Relax, relax,” says Edmond Russell. “Let go the tense hold of your arms that is wearing out your vitality. You will get rest by doing this. Sleepless people will fall asleep. Stop holding yourself in a knot and relax. Hold up the chest, breathe slowly and deeply through the nose, and relax the extremities.”

“Try letting go,” says Mrs. Russell; “it is a great rest. You can let yourself go for a few moments in the theater, in a crowd, in church, in the street car, anywhere. It is the universal habit to hold on to one’s self with a grip that would almost lift one’s weight, muscles tightened, nerves strained to no purpose. The mind is too eager and fast for the body. The result is exhaustion.”

“How shall it be avoided? Take the will out of the body when it is not in action. In walking, let the lower limbs do the work; the arms have nothing to do: let them be carried as attachments, pendulums if you will, but at rest.” Let the hands fall easily when sitting in carriage, street car, or drawing-room.

On Corset Wearing.

The wearing of corsets meets the strong disapproval of all Delsarteans, as “control of the breath underlies gesture, walk and voice,” and a tightened corset-lace necessarily cramps the breathing power. The tight, high collar is also objectionable for the same reason.

An English writer justly observes that “all the greater harmonies and higher courtesies of life must extend over the whole body.” Now, in great emotions the chest expands, and especially the lower part where the ribs are freest and intended to expand most, and this part it is that tight corsets most compress to attain the artificial waist. The figure, trying to accommodate itself to the new conditions becomes deteriorated in all directions. The back grows rounded, the ribs fall in, and the stomach obtrudes itself unduly; all this to the injury of health and of harmonious beauty of form.

Mr. Russell also asserts that a forced compression of the waist damages the power of the figure as an instrument for the expression of emotions, the result of all this being an unfavorable reaction upon the mind and character of the unfortunate victims. One of his maxims is: “A beautiful woman is at her lowest plane in a tight-fitting dress; an ugly woman on her highest in drapery!”

General Remarks.

Educated men and women of to-day study social, domestic and political economy, forgetting that vital economy that Delsarte teaches is more essential to our interests and the interests of our descendants.

“Relax, relax, relax!” one is tempted to cry in unison with Edmond Russell. Give us what there is in you. Make yourself “a being whose body is the exponent of the soul responsive to every command of the spirit.”

Cease limping through life on high-heeled shoes. Cease lifting the shoulders, fidgeting the hands, painfully raising the eyebrows, and contorting the face into a meaningless smile. Remember that all facial contortions leave indelible traces in their wake. The laugh, or broad smile that half closes, or squints the eyes, engraves those fine ray-like, much-dreaded lines about the eye, known as crow’s feet. Remember that “laughter ages the face more than tears.” Smile more often with the eyes. Let them light up and laugh for you. Trust me, in most cases a vast improvement will result, since scarcely any adult laughs well, and if there is some trait of affectation, frivolity, cruelty, or even coarseness in the character, uncontrolled laughter will be the sure exponent thereof.

Rest more. Do not try to accomplish too many things at once. Do not let your thoughts be weeks or days ahead of you and the task in hand. This would be imposing double duty upon the already strained physique. If the body is at one store, do not let the mind fly off to shop in half a dozen other stores to snatch “bargains” from the hands of other over-burdened ones.

Straighten out the frowns on your strained brows. Cease carrying numberless loose packages, and loads of heavy skirts in your hands, and struggling with the well-dressed mob to secure coveted bargains. They are dearly bought at the loss of beauty, youth and repose. One such day ages the face. If you do not believe it, ye dwellers in cities, go stand before your mirror next time you reach home, dusty, rasped, fragmentary, weary from a day of counter-shoving, neither mistress of yourself nor those about you, and the face that meets your gaze will tell its own story.

Rightly does Herbert Spencer say, “We have had something too much of the gospel of work, it is time to preach the gospel of relaxation.”

And this chapter will have reached its aim if it shall be the means of inducing any to become disciples of Delsarte, restful converts of this gospel of relaxation, which is one with the Gospel of Beauty.