FINESSE, [1] ( Grammar ) does not indicate either literally or figuratively thin , light , slender , of a rare, weak, neatly turned out structure; it expresses something delicate and fine. A light cloth, a loose weave, a weak lace, a thin braid are not always fine . This word has a connection to the verb to finish ; from this come the finer points of art; thus we have the finesse of Vanderwerf’s or Mieris’s [2] brushstrokes; you can speak of a fine horse , of fine gold , of a fine diamond . A fine horse is the opposite of a heavy or clumsy horse ; a fine diamond is the opposite of a false one; fine or refined gold is the opposite of mixed or alloyed gold . Fineness is usually applied to thin, delicate things, to the lightness of hand-crafted objects. Although you can speak of a fine horse , you do not speak of a horse’s fineness . You do say the fineness of hair, of lace, of a piece of cloth. When you want this word to express a defect in or a bad use of something, you add the adverb too . This wire broke, it was too fine ; this cloth is too fine for the season.

In the figurative sense, finesse is applied to conduct, to speech, to works of the mind. In conduct, finesse always expresses, as in art, something neatly done; it can exist without cleverness or skill; it is only rarely not mixed with a bit of trickery; politics allows it, and society disapproves of it. The proverbial expression finesse sewn with white thread, [3] proves that this word, in the figurative sense, comes from the literal meaning of delicate sewing , fine cloth .

Finesse is not entirely the same thing as subtlety. You lay out a trap with finesse , you escape from it with subtlety; your conduct is fine or neatly turned out, you play a subtle trick; if you always act with finesse , you inspire distrust. It’s always a mistake to find finesse in everything. Finesse in works of the mind, as in conversation, consists in the art of not expressing your thought directly, while letting it be easily understood: it’s an enigma that witty people immediately solve. Once, when the Chancellor offered his protection to a high court, the chief justice said, turning towards his colleagues, “Gentlemen, let us give thanks to the Lord Chancellor, he’s giving us more than we ask him for;” [4] that répartie is a very fine one. Finesse in conversation or in writing is not the same thing as delicacy; the former can be applied equally to witty and pleasant things, to blame and even to praise, even to indecent things that are covered by a veil through which you can see them without blushing. You can say bold things with finesse . Delicacy is used to express pleasant and gentle feelings, fine bits of praise; finesse is therefore used rather in an epigram, delicacy in a madrigal. Delicacy is contained in lovers’ jealousies; finesse is not. The praises that Despréaux [5] sang to Louis XIV are not always equally delicate; [6] his satires are not always fine enough. When Iphigenia in Racine’s tragedy receives the order from her father not to see Achilles any more, she cries out: Sweeter gods, you had asked only for my life.  [7] The true character of this line is rather delicacy than finesse .

1. Voltaire’s Correspondence does not mention this article, but it was probably assigned in November 1755, along with other articles, including “Facile”, “Fire”, and others, and was probably sent to D’Alembert in 1756.

2. Adriaen van der Werff (1659-1722) and Willem van Mieris (1662-1747), Dutch painters.

3. A. J. Pancoucke, in his Dictionnaire portatif des proverbes français [ Portable Dictionary of French proverbs ] (p. 130) says “a finesse sewn with white thread; to say, a gross ruse that everyone can see.”

4. This appears to be an anecdote that was spoken but not written; the source cannot be identified.

5. That is, Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux (1636-1711).

6. Cf. in particular his Discourse to the King / Discours au roi , the Epistles / Epîtres I, IV, VIII, the Ode on the taking of Namur / Ode sur la prise de Namur , among other writings.

7. “Dieux plus doux, vous n’aviez demandé que ma vie,” Jean Racine, Iphigénie , v.i.1510.