n
the world who do not think themselves handsome, but I will venture to
say, not one who does not think herself agreable, and that she has this
nameless charm, this so much talked of _I know not what_, which is
so much better than beauty. But to my Montesquieu:

"There is sometimes, both in persons and things, an invisible charm,
a natural grace, which we cannot define, and which we are therefore
obliged to call the _je ne scai quoi_.

"It seems to me that this is an effect principally founded on
surprize.

"We are touched that a person pleases us more than she seemed at
first to have a right to do; and we are agreably surprized that she
should have known how to conquer those defects which our eyes shewed
us, but which our hearts no longer believe: 'tis for this reason that
women, who are not handsome, have often graces or agreablenesses and
that beautiful ones very seldom have.

"For a beautiful person does generally the very contrary of what we
expected; she appears to us by degrees less amiable, and, after having
surprized us pleasingly, she surprizes us in a contrary manner; but
the agreable impression is old, the disagreable one new: 'tis also
seldom that beauties inspire violent passions, which are almost always
reserved for those who have graces, that is to say, agreablenesses,
which we did not expect, and which we had no reason to expect.

"Magnificent habits have seldom grace, which the dresses of
shepherdesses often have.

"We admire the majesty of the draperies of Paul Veronese; but we are
touched with the simplicity of Raphael, and the exactness of Corregio.

"Paul Veronese promises much, and pays all he promises; Raphael and
Corregio promise little, and pay much, which pleases us more.

"These graces, these agreablenesses, are found oftener in the mind
than in the countenance: the charms of a beautiful countenance are
seldom hidden, they appear at first view; but the mind does not shew
itself except by degrees, when it pleases, and as much as it pleases;
it can conceal itself in order to appear, and give that species of
surprize to which those graces, of which I speak, owe their existence.

"This grace, this agreableness, is less in the countenance than in
the manner; the manner changes every instant, and can therefore every
moment give us the pleasure of surprize: in one word, a woman can be
handsome but in one way, but she may be agreable in a hundred
thousand."

I like this doctrine of Monte