he most essential gift, he will make no progress
towards the desirable distinction: he is a body without a soul:
his performance will have more of the poppet moved by wires,
than of the actor giving that life to the character, which
himself receives from the sensibility of genius.
There are many young beginners, who, looking on this art as a
good way of livelihood, enter on the rudiments of it, with great
ardor. But this ardor soon abates, in proportion, as they
advance, and find there is more study and pains required from
them than they expected to find, towards their arrival at any
tolerable degree of perfection. Having considered this art as
purely a mechanical one, they are surprised at the discovery of
its exacting thought and reflection, for which their ideas of it
had not prepared them. A man who has not sufficient share of
genius to attempt the vanquishing these difficulties, of which,
in his false conception of things, he has formed to himself no
notion; either treats these great essentials of the art, as
innovations, and such as he is not bound to admit, or in the
despair of acquiring them, sits down contented with his
mediocrity. It is well if he does not rail at, or attempt to
turn into ridicule, perfections which are beyond his reach. And
to say the truth, the art has not greater enemies than those
professors of it, who stick at the surface, and want the spirit
necessary to go to the bottom of it. In vain does the public
refuse its applause to their indifferent, ordinary,
uninteresting performance: rather than allow the fault to be in
themselves, their vanity will lay it on the public: they never
refuse themselves that approbation which others can see no
reason for bestowing on them. They are perfectly satisfied with
having executed in their little manner, the little they know or
are capable of; they have no idea of any thing beyond their
short reach.
Certainly the best season of life, for the study of this art,
is, as for that of most others, for obvious reasons, the time of
one's youth. It is the best time of laying the foundation both
of theory and practice.
But the theory should especially be attended to, without however
neglecting the practice. For though a dancer, by an assiduous
practice, may, at the first unexamining glance, appear as well
in the eyes of the public, as he who possesses the rules; the
illusion will not be lasting; it will soon be dissipated,
especially where there is presen
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