Mr. Walker’s extravagant admiration of the Grecian mythology has led him
to over-estimate its influence upon poetry and the arts. That these were
influenced, in a very important degree, by the religion of Greece, no one
acquainted with the history of that nation, can doubt; but, that the arts
cannot exist where the Grecian mythology is not the popular religion, is
an opinion unsupported by the history of the past, and altogether opposed
to their present flourishing state in civilized countries. In no age or
nation has the art of painting, for example, attained higher perfection,
than in Italy during the 13th and 14th centuries; a period which has been
called “the golden age of Italian art,” and its high excellence has been
justly attributed to the introduction of Christianity. “The walls and
cupolas,” says a late writer, “of new and splendid churches were
immediately covered, as if by enchantment, with the miracles of paintings
and sculpture—the eager multitude were not compelled to wait till genius
had labored for years on what it had been years in conceiving. Those eager
spirits seemed to breathe out their creations in full and mature
beauty—performing at once, by the buoyant energies of well-disciplined
genius, more than all the cold precision of mechanical knowledge can ever
accomplish.” Allan Cunningham, in his life of Flaxman, the artist,
speaking of these paintings, remarks: “Into these Flaxman looked with the
eye of a sculptor and of a Christian. He saw, he said, that the mistress
to whom the great artists of Italy had dedicated their genius was the
Church; that they were unto her as chief priests, to interpret her tenets
and her legends to the world in a more brilliant language than that of
relics and images. To her illiterate people, the Church addressed herself
through the eye, and led their senses captive by the external
magnificence with which she overwhelmed them.”
But it is unnecessary to multiply quotations to prove this point. Flaxman
never uttered a truer saying, than when he remarked, that “the Christian
religion presents personages and subjects no less favorable to painting
and sculpture than the ancient classics.” Accordingly, we find among his
own immortal productions, that the monument erected in memory of Miss
Lushington, in Kent, representing a mother mourning for her daughter,
comforted by a ministering angel, was inspired by that text of holy writ,
“Blessed are they that mourn;” and the monument in memory of the family of
Sir Francis Baring imbodies these words, “Thy will be done—thy kingdom
come—deliver us from evil.” To the first motto belongs a devotional
figure as large as life—
“Her looks communing with the skies;”
a perfect image of piety and resignation. On one side, imbodying “Thy
kingdom come,” a mother and daughter ascend to the skies welcomed rather
than supported by angels; and on the other, expressing the sentiment
“Deliver us from evil,” a male figure, in subdued agony, appears in the
air, while spirits of good and evil contend for the mastery. This has been
considered one of the finest pieces of motionless poetry in England. We
hold, then, that Mr. Walker’s remark that “neither poetry nor the arts can
have being, without the religion of Greece,” is far from being sustained,
either by history or observation.
The remarks of Mr. Walker, in relation to the duty of parents and
teachers, seem to us well-founded and judicious. If moral, as well as
intellectual and physical education, be part of the parental duty, then it
would seem to follow, that it should embrace those subjects which are of
the most importance, both to the physical and moral well-being of the
child; and surely, the relation of the sexes, and the due subjection of
the animal propensities, are not the least important of these. There is a
delicacy generally felt and observed on this point, which springs from a
principle that we honor and respect, while, at the same time, we doubt
whether it leads to favorable and auspicious results. No one, who looks
back upon the years of his own childhood, can for a moment doubt that
judicious advice and seasonable information on certain subjects, which
were probably considered of a too delicate nature to be even hinted at,
would have been highly useful. The young will inevitably become initiated
into certain vices and evil practices, unless put on their guard, by the
warning voice of those they love and respect. There are a variety of
passions, affections, and appetites, which belong to our nature, and were
intended when properly directed and indulged, to promote our interest and
happiness. Those under consideration, early begin to manifest themselves,
and, when left without the restraints of enlightened intellect and the
moral sense, invariably lead to disastrous consequences. The question then
is, shall the young and inexperienced be left to the mere accidents of its
condition, without an effort to give it sound principles to govern it, or
without bringing some conservative influence to bear upon it? We think,
with Mr. Walker, that it should not. Both philosophy and reason prove the
danger of such a course. The circumstances which are connected with sexual
vices cannot be wholly kept out of view. They meet the eye, or are
suggested to the imagination, at almost every turn. A thousand scenes and
incidents occur to excite the passions, if the mind is not fortified
against their influence. Those who are fastidious, and believe that
delicacy forbids all allusion to such subjects, will say, “Keep the youth
in ignorance—conceal, if possible, everything from his view, that may
excite the passions.” Still, there remain the constitutional
susceptibilities; passion and appetite cannot be eradicated, and they will
often be excited by incidents, which the most wakeful vigilance will not
detect or suspect. The fact is, that long before parents are aware of it,
the child has obtained knowledge on these subjects through many corrupt
channels; and the associations first formed, are destined to exert, ever
afterward, a powerful influence for evil. The early associations might, by
judicious instruction on the part of parents, be of such character, as to
throw around the youth a barrier almost impregnable. As to the time and
manner of imparting this instruction, it must be left to the wisdom and
prudence of teachers and parents and, perhaps, as a general rule, it
should be left wholly to the latter.
Much has been written on the nature of beauty, from the divine Plato, who
dedicated one of his dialogues to this subject, to Lord Jeffries, the
editor of the Edinburgh Review; who, in his celebrated article in the
Supplement to the Encyclopedia Britannica, has excelled all previous
efforts in its elucidation, and produced an essay, which will stand an
imperishable monument of his taste, learning, and genius. It is not our
design to enter upon a consideration of beauty in the abstract, or to
attempt its analysis, as this has been done by our author in a very able,
if not satisfactory manner. We take it, however, to denote that quality,
or assemblage and union of qualities in the objects of our perception,
whether material, intellectual, or moral, which we contemplate with
emotions of pleasure; and we refer it to that internal sense, which is
usually called taste. When it is asked, why a thing is beautiful, it is
not always easy to find a satisfactory answer. We find beauty in color, in
sound, in form, in motion, in everything. We have beauties of speech,
beauties of thought, beauties in art, in nature, in the sciences, in
actions, in affections, and in characters. Dr. Reid well asks, “In things
so different, and so unlike, is there any quality, the same in all, which
we may call by the name of beauty?” We shall not attempt to fathom this
difficulty; indeed, it could not be done, without entering upon a
metaphysical discussion, dry in detail, and uninteresting in result.
When we come to inquire in what female beauty consists, we shall find
that there is something which enters into it, beside physical goodness. It
is not a mere matter of flesh and blood; but color, form, expression, and
grace, are all essential to its perfection. The two first have been called
the body, the two latter, the soul of beauty—and without the soul,
the body is but a mass of deformed and inanimate matter:—
“Mind, mind, alone! bear witness earth and heaven,
The living fountains in itself contains
Of beauteous and sublime. Here, hand-in-hand,
Sit paramount the Graces. Here, enthroned,
Celestial Venus, with divinest airs,
Invites the soul to never-failing joy.”
Akenside
Color and form are only beautiful, because they are expressive of health,
delicacy, and softness, in the female sex. It has been remarked, that
expression has greater power than either beauty or form, as it is only the
expression of the tender and kind passions that gives beauty; that all the
cruel and unkind ones add to deformity, and that, on their account,
good-nature may very properly be said to be the best feature, even in the
finest face. Modesty, sensibility, and sweetness, blended together, so as
either to enliven or correct each other, give almost as much attraction as
the passions are capable of adding to a very pretty face. It is owing to
this force of pleasingness, which attends all the kinder passions, that
lovers not only seem, but really are, more beautiful to each other than to
the rest of the world; and in their mutual presence and intercourse, says
a French writer, there is a soul upon their countenances, which does not
appear when they are absent from each other or even in company that lays a
restraint upon their features. Indeed, it will appear that all the
ingredients of beauty terminate in expression, and this may be, either
perfection of the body, or the qualities of the mind. Dr. Reid indeed goes
so far as to say, that beauty originally dwells in the moral and
intellectual perfections of mind, and in its active powers. Thus beauty
may be ascribed to all those qualities which are the natural objects of
love and kind affections, as the moral virtues, innocence, gentleness,
condescension, humanity, natural affections, and the whole train of soft
and gentle virtues—qualities amiable in their nature, and on account of
their moral worth. So also do intellectual talents excite our love and
esteem of those who possess them; these are knowledge, good sense, wit,
humor, cheerfulness, good taste, excellence in any of the fine arts—as
music, painting, sculpture, embroidery, &c. Thus, for example, the beauty
of good breeding is not originally in the external behavior in which it
consists, but is derived from the qualities of mind which it expresses;
for it has been well observed, that though there may be good breeding
without the amiable qualities of mind, its beauty is still derived from
what it naturally expresses.
Flaxman has truly said, that neither mind nor any one of its qualities or
powers, is an immediate object of perception to men. These are perceived
through the medium of material objects, on which their signatures are
impressed. The signs of these qualities are immediately perceived by the
senses, and by them reflected to the understanding; and we are apt to
attribute to the sign, the beauty which is properly and originally in the
thing signified. Thus, the invisible Creator hath stamped on his works
signatures of his divine wisdom, power, and benignity, which are visible
to all men. The works of men in science, in the arts of taste, and in the
mechanical arts, bear the signatures of those qualities of mind which were
employed in their production. Their external behavior or conduct in life,
expresses the good or bad qualities of their minds. In every species of
animals we perceive, by visible signs, their instincts, appetites,
affections, or sagacity; and even in the inanimate world, there are many
things analogous to the qualities of mind; so that there is hardly
anything belonging to mind which may not be represented by images taken
from objects of sense; and, on the other hand, every object of sense is
beautiful, by borrowing attire from attributes of the mind. Thus, the
beauties of mind, though invisible in themselves, are perceived in the
objects of sense, in which their beauty is impressed. Thus, also, in those
qualities of sensible objects to which we ascribe beauty, we discover in
them some relation to mind, and the greatest in those that are most
beautiful. Every beauty in the vegetable creation, of which we can form
any rational judgment, expresses some perfection in the object, or some
wise contrivance in the author. In the animal kingdom we perceive superior
beauties, resulting from life, sense, activity, various instincts and
affections, and, in many cases, great sagacity; which are attributes of
mind, and possess an original beauty. In their manner of life, we observe
that they possess powers, outward form, and inward structure, exactly
adapted to it; and the more perfectly any individual is fitted for its end
and manner of life, the greater is its beauty. This, also, was manifestly
Milton’s theory of beauty; for, in his unrivalled description of our first
parents in Paradise, he derives their beauty from those expressions of
moral and intellectual qualities which shone forth in their outward form
and demeanor:—
“Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,
God-like erect! with native honor clad,
In naked majesty, seemed lords of all,
And worthy seemed, for, in their looks divine,
The image of their glorious Maker, shone
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude, severe and pure;
Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,
Whence true authority in man; though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed,
For contemplation he, and valor formed,
For softness she, and sweet attractive grace.”
From these remarks, it will appear that we do not regard novelty alone as
being “the exciting cause of pleasurable emotions, and of the consequent
perception of beauty in the relation of things.” The beautiful, both in
statuary and painting, we believe to depend chiefly on the perfection with
which the artist succeeds in expressing the qualities of the mind, whether
good or evil; and it is worthy of notice, that Plato, in his Dialogues,
declares that the good and the beautiful are one and the same. Hence, the
Greeks called the beautiful ΚΑΛΟΣ.
The influence of novelty has been so well illustrated in an Essay by the
author of a Treatise on Happiness, that we trust no apology will be
required for transferring a portion of it to our pages:—
“The term novelty applies to everything new—either newly invented, or
newly exhibited to us; in the former case the thing is novel to the world,
in the latter it is novel to ourselves. Novelty powerfully influences the
senses, the passions, and the manners of human beings; it furnishes
amusement, employment, and maintenance for man; it accompanies him in his
progress through this variable being, from the commencement of life to the
period of dissolution.
“Novelty may be either pleasing or unpleasing. When it affects the senses
by grateful influences, it occasions admiration and delight. How
powerfully must the vision of Adam have been affected, when he was
introduced to being! Everything which he beheld was new. There was drawn
out before him, the plain, the fruitful valley, the verdant hill. Shrubs
and trees were distributed around him. The earth was strewed with flowers:
rivulets and rivers diversified the scene—
‘Rolling on orient pearl, and sands of gold.’
The ocean, perhaps, was stretched out as a plain of silver in the distant
view; the heavens were robed in splendor; the sun shone brilliantly. His
own person—himself, was an inextricable mystery. He could move; he could
think; he could behold the display of creation; he could close his eyes,
and exclude every impression. All was new; and everything, he might
naturally have fancied, would remain the same; but, he was destined to
behold a series of novelties. In a short time, he saw the sun sinking
below the horizon. The heavens were adorned in their most splendid robes,
like the gorgeous display of an Eastern monarch. A shade was cast over the
valleys, and darkness began to gather among the trees, while their tops
and branches were still illumined in the sunbeams. The shadows of evening
are now gathered around him; the twinkling stars adorn the heavens; but
the beauties of hill, vale, waters, trees, and flowers, are departed! How
sensibly must he have been affected! He would now conclude that his future
time must be spent in darkness; but he looks toward the East, and across
the wide expanse of waters he beholds a gleam of light, which leads the
eye to some great luminary, rising above the horizon, to cheer the nightly
solitude; and, as it mounts to the zenith, new beauties delight the vision
of this lonely and astonished inhabitant of the earth. After a short
period the moon sinks, the sun rises in the heavens, and the same
delightful scenery is exhibited which was beheld the previous day.
“We can imagine the effect of novelty in producing admiration; when
travellers, who having been toiling for many days or weeks on the burning
sands of interminable deserts, come suddenly upon some lovely valley,
watered by cooling streams, shaded by groves of trees, and beautified with
clusters of flowers. Or, we can fancy the pleasure which would be produced
on wayworn voyagers, who had been long toiling on the great deep and they
come to some blest isle,
——‘Where the voluptuous breeze
The peaceful native breathes, at eventide,
From nutmeg-groves, and bowers of cinnamon.’
To the infant everything is novel, and almost everything is a source of
admiration. The people who move to and fro; the walls and furniture of the
room; the fire and the candles; the bustle and movement of men and
carriages; the heavens, sunshine, and rain. These occasion interest and
surprise. Dr. Brown has inquired, ‘What metaphysician is there, however
subtile and profound in his analytical inquiries, and however successful
in the analyses which he has made, who would not give all his past
discovery, and all his hopes of future discovery, for the certainty of
knowing, with exactness, what every infant feels?” But he would, probably,
meet with few who would sacrifice so much for the purpose; and yet the
feelings of an infant must be exceedingly interesting.
“We can easily suppose the effect which would be produced on a company of
savages, if, in the midst of their woods, one of our best military bands
were to strike up a powerful strain of martial music. At first they would
sit motionless, or stand as statues; then look toward the place whence the
sounds proceeded, where they would behold a company of persons, in
many-colored dresses, and splendid ornaments, with curious musical
instruments, dropped, as they would fancy, from the clouds.
“But the effect of novelty may be painful; and this feeling will be
powerful in the same proportion as the circumstances are important and
new. Suppose, for instance, a person who had been trained in the ways of
propriety and virtue were introduced, for the first time, to a
village-wake, or some such brutal holyday, where he would behold
bull-baiting and cock-fighting, boxing and drunkenness; where he would
listen to quarrelling and profane swearing; how would his feelings be
shocked! He would scarcely have fancied that a spot so small, on the
surface of the globe, could have exhibited so great a variety of
wickedness.
“Or, we may imagine some one endowed with a delicate ear for music, who
had been accustomed to the practice of delightful harmony, obliged, for
the first time, to listen to the harsh scraping of some barbarous laborer
on the violin, or the useless attempts of some tasteless practitioners to
perform a piece of music! How irksome and insufferable must such an ordeal
be to a man of refinement; and how would its painfulness be increased by
its novelty!
“By the same rule, a person who may have been accustomed to luxury and
dainty food, but is obliged, for the first time, to feed on loathsome
bread and nauseous water, feels doubly the misery of his condition. And
thus the man who has been used to salubrious air and grateful scents, will
be the more effected by disgusting smells.
“Novelty operates also in powerfully exciting the passions. Suppose a
general to be usually unfortunate in his combats with the enemy, and his
army to be consequently dispirited; but, upon some particular occasion,
the favors of fortune and of Providence are bestowed upon them, their
efforts are successful, and the main body of the enemy begin to waver, how
would this inspirit them, and brighten their courage! They would rush
forward, unconscious and careless of danger, and the foe must fly before
such unconquerable ardor!
“If a man who had lived in poverty, in dependance on others for a
subsistence, had constantly wished for independence and comparative
influence, and had endeavored to swim against the stream of adversity but
had never succeeded, and, all at once, a handsome fortune were left to
him, how would his eyes sparkle with exultation! If a person had been
separated from his friends and doomed to spend his days in the solitude of
a foreign land and he met, unexpectedly, with some of his nearest and
kindest friends, how would his countenance beam with delight! The novelty
of the circumstance would increase the amount of his joy!
“A traveller in a foreign country would be exceedingly pleased to discover
some trinket which had been made in his native city; and especially if he
saw on it the name of an intimate friend as the manufacturer. A toy, a
dog, or a cat, under some circumstances, has occasioned tears. A beautiful
female has appeared more lovely, when interesting events have introduced
her to our notice; and one who is not usually attractive, has appeared so,
when novelty has thrown its fascinations around her.
“The feeling of hope may be excited most powerfully by novel and
unexpected circumstances. When the mariner has been long toiling in storms
and dangers; when the heavens have been covered with darkness, and no
information or guidance could be gained from the stars or the sun, the
tempest suddenly ceases, the cheering sunbeams break upon him, and he
finds himself, unexpectedly, near the haven where he would be—how does
his heart exult with hope, and the consciousness of security!
“The passions may be excited, also, in an unpleasing manner; the feeling
of fear may be powerfully produced by novelty. Suppose, for instance, a
youth, who was trained in the ways of tranquillity and enjoyment, with a
feeling heart for the sufferings of others, to be brought, all at once, on
the field of war and bloodshed. Suppose him passing along some narrow
defile, where the distant scenes could scarcely affect him, and where he
would perceive only a din of discordant sounds. But, on a sudden, he
reaches the termination of the passage, and all the pomp, and
circumstance, and horror of war, are exhibited before him. Here he beholds
rank opposed to rank, in deadly conflict; troops of horsemen butchering
each other; forests of deadly weapons gleaming in the sunbeams. Now he
listens to the shouts of victors, the cries of the vanquished, the groans
of the wounded and dying; to the swelling notes of some musical band; the
discordant sounds of the drum; the clashing of arms, and the shrill clamor
of trumpets; to the rattling of musketry and the roaring of artillery! How
would his heart sink within him at these novel scenes!
“Novelty will also occasion sorrow; as, when a man has been accustomed to
independence, and the comforts which wealth, judiciously managed, may
produce, and his riches are suddenly swept away, he is reduced from
affluence to dependance, from comforts to privations. And when a person
has been used to the society of pleasant friends, and these are removed by
the hand of death, and the clay-cold body alone remains as the
representative of a cheerful and amiable companion, the novelty of this
event will occasion heartfelt sorrow.
“When those who have been accustomed to associate as faithful friends; or,
when a monarch has been surrounded by persons who have pretended feelings
of attachment, and evinced much hypocritical fidelity, and, all at once,
the veil of deception has been drawn aside, and an aspect has presented
itself of a new and treacherous kind, how powerful have been the feelings
of abhorrence and anger!
“And when a person, who has been nurtured in the lap of ease and comfort,
and blessed with that best of all blessings (if it be rightly managed),
the gift of liberty, is torn from his home, and his family, and his
engagements, and carried into a land of slavery, where he is laden with
oppressive chains, and insulted by a cruel task-master, with no chance of
freedom, nor any ray of happiness, how will his spirits sink, and how will
the haggard lineaments of despair be drawn on that countenance which was
formed for cheerfulness! Or, suppose a person who was accustomed to a
dwelling in some verdant valley, undisturbed by storms or the hazards of
the sea; and he was introduced, for the first time, to some of the most
aggravated dangers of that boisterous element. Suppose the winds were
driving furiously over the ocean, and the huge billows were breaking on
the helpless bark, while the darkness of the night was varied only by the
gleam of the lightning, which exhibited breakers, and rocks, and
over-hanging precipices, how would this new and dangerous condition
agitate his mind, and drive him to despair!
“Novelty influences the customs or habits of mankind. On some occasions
novel engagements are pleasing; and thus we practise them again, and
acquire a habit of performing them. For instance, the citizen who has
walked into the country as a novelty, has been pleased with his ramble,
and induced to practise it daily. It sometimes occasions a progress in the
arts; and thus the first attempts at music, at painting, and at sculpture,
have produced a pleasure which has stimulated the person to future and
continued labors.
“Sometimes, when the first impression has been rather unpleasing, a custom
has been acquired, because, afterward, it had been found pleasing or
advantageous. Thus there are many kinds of food, which were originally
ungrateful, but are now esteemed delicious. Port wine is nauseous for a
child, but it is pleasing to the taste of a person who has been accustomed
to it. Smoking, the taking of snuff, and masticating of tobacco, with many
other useless and dirty customs, are not produced by the pleasing
influence of novelty; but they are rather opposed to it. They arise
principally from the inclination of following injurious examples. In some
cases ladies have set their faces against such customs, and have
prohibited the practice among those who would gain their esteem: in other
cases they have been more lenient, because they have found that a flame of
love may burn amid volumes of smoke from cigars or tobacco-pipes. Novelty
has occasioned a sensation of unpleasantness, with regard to particular
modes of dress; but afterward these fashions have become necessary to our
comfort.
“In some instances, the very things which we commonly hate most, become
essential to our happiness. When Louis XVI. ascended the throne of France,
the doors of some of the dark cells in the Bastile were opened, and the
hapless residents were allowed once more to breathe the pure air of
heaven. Among the rest, there was one man who had been immured for nearly
fifty years in a wretched cell, the area of which was so small as scarcely
to allow him room to move about; but, having a vigorous body and a firm
mind, he supported himself, until he had almost forgotten the world in
which he lived, having had no intercourse with any one but the jailer, who
brought him his daily food. When he received the summons to depart, which
seemed like a message in a dream, he was astonished; but when he walked
through the spacious passages and the open courts, and saw the heavens
extended above him, and the sun shining in his splendor, he was overcome
by his feelings. He could badly walk, and badly speak, and he seemed as if
he had entered a new world. He went into the city, and found the street in
which he had formerly lived, but his friends were dead; there was no
living being in the world that knew him, and the poor man wept with
sorrow. He was a stranger in a strange country. He went to the minister
who had given him his freedom, and said: ‘Sir, I can bear to die, but to
live in a world unknown and forlorn, the last human being of my race, is
insupportable; do, therefore, send me to my cell, that I may finish my
days there!’ No blessing of Providence will be felt as a benefit, unless
it be possessed by a person for whom it is adapted.
“Impressions of a novel and pleasing kind soon lose their attraction; and
thus the honors which are acquired by civil and literary eminence, quickly
fade away. They are like a beautiful cloud in the heavens, or a dew-drop
on a leaf, which glitters and exhibits its beauties for a while, but the
fervent sun absorbs both; or, they are like a gaudy flower, which a man
fixes in his bosom—very lovely at first, but its attractions soon vanish.
On the other hand, painful occurrences leave but a faint impression.
Although, at first, a man may be bowed down with trouble, yet he will soon
regain an erect position and a smiling countenance. A few weeks or months
hide most of our sorrows from us; and this is an eminent proof of the
wisdom and beneficence of the Deity: for the general amount of human
happiness is by this means more equally divided. A state of elation is
temporary, and so is a state of depression; and thus, whether a man rises
or sinks in worldly possessions and honors, although there will be some
difference in the amount of enjoyment, yet there will be much less than we
are generally disposed to imagine.
“A taste for novelty affects the engagements of society: it is the source
of fashion; it gives labor to the mechanic, to the artist, and to almost
every man who obtains his maintenance by industry. And thus there are new
buildings, new vehicles, new machines, and new methods of doing most
things. There are dresses of various kinds the result of ingenuity and
taste. One thing is new and attractive, but it soon becomes stale, and
then we look for something novel. Some kinds of food are scarce and
costly: these are approved by the great, but they become plentiful and
cheap, and then the rich man looks for something rare, some new discovery
in the art of cookery. The round of pleasures and amusements is
continually varying. Formerly the men, and even the ladies, were delighted
by exhibitions of combats among savage beasts—lions, elephants, and
tigers; they feasted their eyes on the bloody combats of human beings with
each other, or with bulls and other furious animals. They attended
dog-fights, cock-fights, and other barbarous diversions. But the taste has
become improved; novelty has taken a praiseworthy direction: boxing,
wrestling, and other disgraceful exhibitions, are now transferred to the
vulgar and disreputable; many innocent amusements have been introduced,
and these also have been regulated by the universal love of novelty. The
same variety has existed in language. A certain style of speech, and
certain phrases, are fashionable in the best society; these are gradually
introduced among the lower ranks, and then the better classes look for
something novel. Many words and phrases originally introduced for the
purpose of expressing things delicately, become vulgar: terms which were
primarily intended as a reproach become a designation of honor, and those
once deemed honorable become reproachful.
“The love of novelty occasions the great variety of tunes which we
possess, and the diversity of musical skill. A newly-constructed
instrument, a new or superior mode of performing on it and the last new
tune, are objects of universal attraction. The same disposition arises
with respect to books. Novelty has occasioned all the variety which the
history of literature exhibits, from the bulky folio to the penny
pamphlet, and the annual publication to the daily newspaper: it has
occasioned, also, in a great degree, the multitude of opinions which have
deluged the world. Something new, as the loungers of Athens demanded, has
been the requirement of the public in all ages. If it be new, it will be
attractive, and if pleasing or convenient, it will be embraced, and then
its strength and consistency will soon be deemed demonstrated: but when
the writers on the subject, and the readers of those writings, become
cool; when reason takes the place of imagination, then the system will be
often discovered to be defective, the vapory fabric will fade away, and
some other will obtain its place. We are too frequently going round in our
progress, rather than forward. In many respects we are not much farther
advanced than the ancients, and yet we ought to be, and should be if we
had pursued a direct course.
“But one of the most pleasing sources of novelty is that which the
Almighty has given us in the seasons of the year; and this distinctly
shows us that the love of novelty is not only natural, but it is allowable
and praiseworthy, if it be regulated by reason; for the Great Creator
himself indulges us in this respect. And thus we have all the variety of
summer and winter, of sultry and frosty days, of clear and cloudy skies;
of the budding and blooming of spring, and the richness and luxuriance of
autumn; the breaking forth of the sun in the morning, and the setting of
that glorious luminary; the light of the stars; the silvery splendor of
the moon; the glare of lightnings and meteors, the rolling of thunder,
with vapors, rain, hail, and snow.
“The love of novelty is injurious only when it is carried beyond what the
Almighty intended; when it does not animate a person to perform his
necessary engagements, but carries him away from them; when it makes him
restless and wavering. Novelty accompanies man in infancy and in youth; it
cheers and exalts him in the changing scenes of manhood; and when we
leave this earthly sphere, and the soul bursts forth from its corporeal
dwelling, it will fly upward to regions of still greater novelty, and
never-failing interest!”
Mr. Walker, in various places of his work, calls the cerebel or
cerebellum, “the organ of volition,” and, at page 145, he attributes
ideas, emotions, and passions, to the cerebrum, though he states that acts
of the will result from these. Now, if there is any truth established, it
is that the will is the result of the simultaneous action of the higher
intellectual powers, and supposes attention, reflection, comparison, and
judgment, mental operations, which Mr. Walker himself attributes to the
cerebrum. Gall has made it very evident, that the will is not the
impulse that results from the activity of a single organ, but the
concurrent action of many of the higher intellectual faculties—motives
must be weighed, compared, and judged, before there can be any will, or
determination of mind. The decision resulting from this determination, is
called will. We consider it then proved, that there is no particular organ
of the will. “Every fundamental faculty,” says Dr. Gall, “accompanied by a
clear notion of its existence, and by reflection, is intellect or
intelligence. Each individual intelligence, therefore, has its proper
organ; but reason supposes the concerted action of the higher faculties.
It is the judgment pronounced by the higher intellectual faculties. A
single one of these, however, could not constitute reason, which is the
compliment, the result of the simultaneous action of all the intellectual
faculties. It is reason that distinguishes man from the brute;
intellect they have in common to a certain degree. There are many
intelligent men, but few reasoning ones. Nature produces an intelligent
man; a happy organization, cultivated by experience and reflection, forms
the reasoning man.” Nearly all physiologists deserving of the name, are
now united in the opinion that the cerebellum is the organ of amativeness,
as well as concerned in the regulation of voluntary motion. “It is
impossible,” says Dr. Spurzheim, “to unite a greater number of proofs in
demonstration of any natural truth than may be presented to determine the
function of the cerebellum.”—“Mr. Scott,” says George Combe, “in an
excellent essay on the influence of amativeness on the higher sentiments
and intellect, observes that it has been regarded by some individuals, as
almost synonymous with pollution; and the notion has been entertained,
that it cannot be even approached without defilement. This mistake has
originated from attention being directed too exclusively to the abuses of
the propensity. Like everything that forms part of the system of nature,
it bears the stamp of wisdom and excellence in itself, although liable to
abuse. It exerts a quiet but effectual influence in the general
intercourse between the sexes, giving rise in each to a sort of kindly
interest in all concerns the other. This disposition to mutual kindness
between the sexes, does not arise from benevolence or adhesiveness, or any
other sentiment or propensity alone; because, if such were its sources, it
would have an equal effect in the intercourse of the individuals of each
sex among themselves, which it has not. ‘In this quiet and unobtrusive
state of the feeling,’ says Mr. Scott, ‘there is nothing in the least
gross or offensive to the most sensitive delicacy. So far the contrary,
that the want of some feeling of this sort is required, wherever it
appears, as a very palpable defect, and a most unamiable trait in the
character. It softens all the proud, irascible, and antisocial principles
of our nature, in everything which regards that sex which is the object of
it; and it increases the activity and force of all the kindly and
benevolent affections. This explains many facts which appear in the mutual
regards of the sexes toward each other. Men are, generally speaking, more
generous and kind, more benevolent and charitable, toward women, than they
are to men, or than women are to one another.’ The abuses of this
propensity are the sources of innumerable evils in life; and as the organ
and feeling exist, and produce an influence on the mind, independently of
external communication, Dr. Spurzheim suggests the propriety of
instructing young persons in the consequences of its improper indulgence
as preferable to keeping them in a state of ignorance that may provoke a
fatal curiosity, compromising in the end their own and their descendants’
bodily and mental constitution.”
It may be proper in this place, to point out some of the anatomical
differences of the sexes more definitely than has been done by Mr. Walker,
as they are intimately connected with the form and contour of the body,
and must be understood to appreciate fully the bearing of much that is
laid down by our author:—
ANATOMICAL SEXUAL DIFFERENCES.
DIGESTIVE SYSTEM.
The stomach is the only portion of the alimentary canal which presents
sexual differences. It is larger, shorter, and broader, in the male;
smaller, narrower, and longer, in the female. Its muscular coat, like that
in the whole alimentary canal, is generally also thinner in the female.
OSSEOUS SYSTEM.
Ribs.—The ribs of the female are generally straighter than those of the
male. The posterior segment unites sooner with the anterior; its curve
differs less from that of the last, and disappears sooner in the female;
hence, the chest is narrower. The ribs are usually thinner; hence, the
edges are sharper. Sometimes, however, this is far from being true. Their
length is nearly the same; but according to Mechel, the length of the two
upper ribs is proportionally, and when the subject is short, absolutely
greater in the female than in the male.
Clavicle.—The clavicle is generally straighter, and proportionably
smaller in the female than in the male. The greater straightness depends
particularly on the lesser curve of its external portion, while in man it
extends far backward, and then comes forward. The internal anterior half
presents nearly the same curve in both sexes. The clavicle of the female
is rounder than that of the male; we however find clavicles of females
perfectly like those of males, and vice versa. Sometimes, of the two
clavicles in the same body, one is constructed in the type of the male,
and the other in that of the female.
Pelvis.—The chief points of difference between the male and female
skeleton, beside the disparity in the size and the greater smoothness of
the bones, lie in the pelvis. In the female this is less strong and
thick, and contains less osseous matter than that of the male. In the
female, the arch of the pubis is much the greatest, and the long
diameter of the brim of the pelvis is from side to side; in the male it is
from before backward; in the female, the brim is more of the oval shape,
in the male more triangular; in the female, the ilia are more distant;
the tuberosities of the ischia are also more remote from each other, and
from the os coccygis, and as these three points are farther apart, the
notches between them are consequently wider, and there is of necessity a
considerably greater space between the os coccygis and pubis than in
the male. The female sacrum is broader and less curved than in the other
sex. The ligamentous cartilage at the symphysis pubis is broader and
shorter. In consequence of the cavity of the pelvis being wider in woman,
the superior articulations of their thigh bones are farther removed from
each other, which circumstance occasions their peculiarity in walking;
they seem to require a greater effort than men to preserve the centre of
gravity, when the leg is raised; owing to the greater length of the crural
arch, there is less resistance to the pressure of the abdominal viscera;
consequently females are more subject to femoral hernia than males. The
angle of union of the ossa pubis in the male is from sixty to eighty
degrees, whereas, in the female it is ninety degrees. The mean height of
the male, at the period of maturity, is about five feet eight and a half
inches, and that of the female about five feet five inches; a well-formed
pelvis has a circumference equal to one-fourth of the height of the
female.
ORGAN OF VOICE.
The larynx is one of the organs which presents most manifestly the
differences of sex. That of the female is usually one third, and sometimes
one half smaller than that of the male: all its constituent cartilages are
much thinner; the thyroid cartilage also is even flatter, because its two
lateral halves unite at a less acute angle. Hence the reason why the
larynx in the male forms at the upper part of the neck a prominence which
is not visible in the female. The glottis in the female is much smaller
than in the male, and the vocal cords are shorter. These sexual
differences do not appear till puberty; until then the larynx has
precisely the same form in the two sexes, and consequently the voice is
nearly the same in both. In eunuchs it is small as in females.
PHYSIOLOGICAL EXPLANATION OF THE BEAUTY OF FORM.
A very ingenious Physiological explanation of the beauty of form, has been
suggested by Professor B. T. Joslin, of the University of the city of New
York, which is published in the Transactions of the New York State Medical
Society for 1836. As this theory is characterized by great originality and
genius, and but little known, we shall present our readers with some
extracts from the Essay, calculated to elucidate the views of the talented
author.
Speaking of material objects, not including the human form, Dr. J.
remarks:—
“There is in objects a kind of beauty which is intrinsic and physical,
which belongs to them in every association, and whether at rest or in
motion; such is the beauty of color, and that of configuration. The
contemplation of the beauty of coloring and of form gives physical
pleasure, i. e., physical as opposed to mental, but physiological as
opposed to physical. Employing physical in its comprehensive sense, I say
that this physical pleasure attending vision is of two distinct kinds;
1st, that which depends on the character of the impression on the retina,
and consequently on the intensity and nature of the light; and 2dly, that
which depends upon the form of the object, and, consequently, on the
muscular actions employed in tracing its outlines. As the latter
constitutes the proper subject of this essay, I shall dismiss the former
with a single remark.
“Some colors are more agreeable than others, but these differ with
different eyes, and with the nature of the color to which the eyes have
been previously exposed. A bluish green relieves the eye when over-excited
with red, and a mild red is agreeable after the protracted action of
intense green; and in general, the complementary colors are most agreeable
in succession. Again, it is well known, that no kind of light is painful,
unless excessively vivid; we are pleased with a mild radiance in objects
of every hue, from the whiteness of the moon to the crimson of the setting
sun. But is there no other physical property by which these luminaries
directly contribute to the gratification of taste? It is true that light,
abstractedly from all objects is agreeable, and agreeable on the same
principle that sweetness is to the taste, i. e., from the mere character
of the nervous impression. But this is a pleasure merely passive, and in
an active being it is, perhaps, on that account, one grade lower than the
gratification afforded by the beauty of form, and is more allied to the
gross pleasure of literal taste. Hence, we scarcely employ a figurative
expression, in declaring that light is sweet. But the highest degree of
physical gratification is not enjoyed by the eye, unless this agreeable
excitant proceeds from an object of beautiful form. “Light is sweet,” but
“it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun.” What is the
source of this additional pleasure which we receive, when light proceeds
either by radiation or reflection from regular curvilinear objects?
“I shall offer what I believe to be an original and satisfactory
explanation of the beauty of form, on principles purely physiological. It
is based on the proposition, that the action of every muscle is attended
with a sensation which, is at first agreeable, but which, if the action is
continued for a short time with intensity, and without intermission,
becomes painful. That there is pleasure attending those varied motions
which depend upon the actions of different muscles in succession after
intervals of rest in each, we know from our own consciousness as well as
from that instinctive propensity to play which we observe in children and
young animals. That the prolonged action of a muscle is painful, we may
readily convince ourselves by endeavoring to hold the arm for some time at
right angles with the erect trunk. With the arm in this position, a pound
weight on the hand or even the weight of the arm itself becomes in a few
minutes almost insupportable. We presently begin to feel pain in the
shoulder and anterior part of the arm, the former from fatigue of those
muscles which originate from the scapula and keep the os humeri elevated,
and the latter from fatigue of the muscles which originate from the
scapula and os humeri, whose muscular fibres are in front of the os humeri
and by their contraction elevate the fore-arm in consequence of their
tendinous attachment to its bones. Yet a man may labor all day with his
arms without this painful sensation; because a muscle requires but a
momentary rest, in order to regain that degree of energy which is
momentarily lost by action.
“None but an anatomist can duly appreciate the variety of separate
actions, on which depend the motions of a single limb, and the
consequently numerous opportunities of rest which the muscles enjoy. To
the superficial and unscientific observer, an arm is an arm; it is a
single member which may be fatigued by a day’s work and recruited by a
night’s rest. But to the anatomist the arm is a complex object, and its
muscular energy is that of its component muscles, each of which may be
fatigued by a minute’s action and recruited by a minute’s repose. It would
be easy to extend this farther, and state reasons for believing that the
component fasciculi and fibres of an individual muscle act still more
transiently, and that their momentary and successive actions constitute
the action of a single muscle.
“But waiving this refinement, it will be sufficient for our purpose to
consider a single muscle as having a simple action, an action which cannot
be sustained with uniformity a minute of time without actual pain, nor a
second of time with positive pleasure. This, however, is not to be
understood as an attempt to fix these limits with precision. To express
the law in more general terms, as we diminish the duration of a muscle’s
action we diminish the pain until we arrive at an action whose attendant
sensation is neutral, i. e., neither painful nor pleasurable; as soon as
we have passed that point and have begun to execute motions a little more
transient, the attendant sensation becomes positively pleasurable, and the
pleasure increases as the separate actions become more transient. It is
not necessary to infer that there is attending each action of shorter
duration a pleasure exceeding that which attends each action of greater
duration; for the more transient actions are, in a given time, more
numerous; so that with the same amount of pleasure for each muscular
contraction, the amount of pleasurable sensation in a given time—say a
second—would exceed the amount attending the less frequent and more
prolonged actions in the same period: a greater number of separate
impressions become—so to speak—crowded together and condensed, and thus
produce a more vivid pleasure. Several contiguous impressions thus
conspire to heighten the contemporaneous effect, inasmuch as we are unable
to distinguish those impressions which are made at very short intervals on
the muscular sense, any more than we are those made at very short
intervals on the retina. We have an example of the latter in the familiar
experiment of swinging a coal of fire in a circle, and in various optical
instruments for combining colors and images.
“The proposition which I have endeavored to establish is, that there is a
neutral point to which, if constant action is prolonged, its pleasurable
character begins to be reversed; that the vividness of the sensation
increases with the distance from this point, being on the one side
pleasurable, on the other painful; the more transient the actions are, the
more pleasurable; the more prolonged they are, the more painful.
“I am of opinion that this physiological principle is susceptible of
interesting applications to a class of pleasures, which metaphysicians
have regarded as exclusively mental, and dependant upon certain supposed
ultimate principles of the constitution of mind, principles not resolvable
into others more elementary. As physiology shall advance, it may be
expected that many of these imaginary elements will yield to its searching
analysis. Whether the writer has been so fortunate as to resolve any of
the generally admitted elements of mental taste, the reader will be able
to judge from the sequel.
As preparatory to the consideration of the beauty of form, it will be
necessary to give an explanation of the gracefulness of motion. Although
this has been vaguely and in part referred to ease of execution, yet, the
physiological principle on which ease of execution depends, not having
been clearly understood and distinctly stated, the gracefulness of all
motions could not be referred to their true source. Thus, writers on taste
have been under the necessity of admitting, as a distinct and independent
source of gracefulness, the curvilinear direction of motions, and have
been able to generalize this fact no farther than by referring it to the
beauty of curved forms, which beauty was considered an ultimate fact. In
applying the principles above developed, to the explanation of the
pleasure or pain attending the contemplation of particular motions, we
shall defer for the present the investigation of the intrinsic beauty of
curved motions, which is the same as that of curved lines, and assume that
in general those motions which are physically pleasurable to the agent are
agreeable to the observer. The pleasure or pain of the agent will engage
the sympathy of the observer; for he associates the observed action with
his own experience. To make a single application, suppose a public speaker
extend his arm horizontally and move it slowly in a horizontal position,
through one third of a circle. This motion would not appear graceful. That
it would not be performed with perfect ease, any one might prove by
experiment. The principal difficulty is in preserving for a long time the
horizontal position.”
“In the ordinary state of the muscular system, and within certain limits,
the motion of the eye in any direction is pleasurable. Whenever the power
of directing the eye is acquired, the tracing of a line will, to a certain
extent and for a certain time, afford some degree of positive pleasure; in
other words, any short line will possess some degree of positive beauty,
and the infant becomes conscious of an emotion of which he was previously
ignorant—the emotion of beauty of form. A point awakens no such emotion;
it never will; it can possess no beauty. It must be recollected, that this
has been restricted to minute points of inappreciable form. Circular dots
will be considered under the head of figures. The colorific property of a
dot as compared with that of the ground on which it is placed, may afford
that kind of ocular pleasure which is foreign to the present inquiry.
“From points as compared with lines, we naturally proceed to lines as
compared with each other.
“When the head is erect, in examining a straight horizontal line we
employ one of the lateral recti; if the line be vertical we employ the
rectus inferior or superior. In either case, but one muscle acts, and that
continuously. The muscle is not relieved, and its action is not attended
with the maximum amount of pleasurable sensation. When the vision has been
extended along the whole line, if we then immediately proceed to examine
it in the opposite direction, the opposite rectus must at one exert a
force sufficient to overcome the momentum of the eyeball, and then exert
a continuous action. Both these circumstances are unfavorable to
pleasure. If the line is oblique, one lateral together with one inferior
or one superior muscle is exerted, and the same principles which have been
applied to the single muscles, apply to the muscles acting in pairs.
“The Beauty of Curved Lines.—As from the foregoing analysis of the
vision of straight lines in general, it results that they are deficient in
the elements of ocular agreeableness, in other words, of beauty; little
more need be said of regular and gentle curves, than that the survey of
them is not attended with the abovementioned disadvantages. In viewing a
regular curve, no muscle of the eyeball acts continuously and uniformly,
but enjoys partial relief by remissions, or total relief by intermissions
of its action; and the regularity of these remissions and intermissions,
as well as the equal distribution of exercise, is promoted by the
regularity of the curve. Acting in succession, the muscles afford mutual
relief after actions of such short duration and variable intensity, as to
afford positive pleasure; and in this muscular pleasure of the eye
consists the beauty of configuration.
“The successive and accurate survey of distant points is not, however,
invariably requisite to a degree of similar pleasure, in viewing a figure
of such small angular extent as to be instantly recognised by one location
of its image, as analogous to a larger one whose survey has directly
afforded muscular pleasure. Although I thus recognise the influence of
association, the facts of this very case afford an interesting
confirmation of the physiological theory; for a large circle or ellipse is
more beautiful than one of diminutive size. The beauty of the one is
original, its influence is direct; the beauty of the other is in part
borrowed, and this part is weakened by reflection. Or, to express it more
literally, the one excites a pleasurable sensation, the other suggests a
similar idea; the one affords a perception, the other a conception, of
beauty. Such, even with similar color and brilliancy, would be the
difference between the full moon and a circular dot (·) or period; such
the difference between a rainbow and a diminutive arc (
) (◠), a
short accent inverted. Here the critic might be inclined to charge us with
confounding the beautiful with the sublime. But the fact is, that
criticism has constructed the sublime—as it has the beautiful—from
heterogeneous materials, one of which is identical with one of the
elements of beauty, and should, in a physiological arrangement, be
referred to the same class. In many instances a magnifying instrument will
disclose minute irregularities and blemishes; but in every other case,
physiology would show, that, within certain limits, to magnify a beautiful
object is to magnify beauty.
“The foregoing statements of general principles preclude the necessity of
minute details in relation to particular curves. I shall at present
consider those which do not return into themselves, so as to constitute
the outlines of figures in the geometrical sense. Let us first select a
semi-circumference, for example, that of a rainbow of maximum dimensions.
In tracing it once, we employ three out of the four muscles. They are
brought into action successively and rapidly, but not abruptly. All these
circumstances are favorable to pleasure. Yet they are not conducive to it
in the highest possible degree; for each muscle acts only once unless the
examination be repeated; and in case of its repetition, the momentum of
the eyeball is destroyed in stopping and reversing its motion. The waving
line, as Hogarth’s line of beauty, obviates the first difficulty. This
ensures not only the successive action of different muscles, but a
repetition of action in the same. If the line forms a number of equal
waves, these repetitions will be proportional to the number of waves, and
will alternately and totally relieve, at least two muscles, and allow, in
the action of a third, regular remissions of intensity at equal intervals.
We have proved then, that on this physiological theory, a
semi-circumference possesses more of the elements of beauty than any
straight line, and a regular-waved line more than either. These results
are conformable to experience. If there is any difficulty in admitting
this, it will vanish on comparing the ocular with other muscles.
“Let us select a joint, which, in its spherical form, and the circular
arrangement of its muscles, is analogous to the eye; for example, the
shoulder joint. I think it will be uniformly found, that in the use of
this joint, the curves most readily traced, are those of gentle and nearly
equal curvature, and being such as are most easily traced by the eye, they
would appear more beautiful than those drawn by the fingers with the same
education. For example, let a man, without bending his wrist or elbow,
draw various lines with a light stick or cane on the surface of snow: the
lines most easily drawn (or most easily traced if already drawn), will be
curves of considerable beauty, and nearly equal curvature; such as waved
lines and spirals and looped curves. Circles and ellipses would also be
among the figures with most facility and precision traced, and especially
in cases of repeated tracing; but we are not at present considering
figures in the proper geometrical sense of the term. In writing letters by
the above method, a succession of ‘e’s, would be more readily drawn than a
succession of ‘i’s, or a zigzag line with acute angles.
“To institute a fair comparison between terminated lines and figures, the
component lines of the figures should be as beautiful as the terminated
lines with which they are compared. With this precaution, physiology will
conduct to the conclusion, that figures are more beautiful than terminated
lines. For the survey of any figure requires the successive action of all
these ocular muscles, and a repeated survey requires no reversal of the
motion.
“We may apply the same principles to figures as compared with each
other. Here we shall find the advantage on the side of those which are
geometrically regular. We perceive that the circle and ellipse must
possess in great perfection the essentials of beauty.
“From figures, the transition is natural and easy to solids or bodies of
three dimensions. The form of a body depends on those of all its faces and
sections; and these last are plane figures. The elliptical sections of a
regular spheroid are all highly beautiful, but its sections are not all
elliptical. Unless the spheroid be in certain positions, the sphere
possesses still higher beauty, as presenting the same circular and highly
beautiful outline in every position; although a variety of positions is
not essential to the perception of its peculiar beauty, whenever the
observer has learned by different methods, and especially by different
degrees of convergence of the two optic axes, to estimate the relative
distances of the different points of the visible hemisphere, and thus to
recognise the spherical form. I will only add, from the analysis of the
beauty of the circle it is evident, that within certain limits, to magnify
a sphere is to magnify its beauty.
“The relative beauty of the sphere and spheroid, and of the spheroid as
compared with itself in different positions, is modified by symmetry.
The principle of symmetry, is in some measure distinct from any other
heretofore considered. It may be treated under the heads of 1st,
geometrical symmetry, or symmetry of form; 2d, of symmetry of position.
“Symmetry of form, though implied in geometrical regularity, is not
identical with it, and requires a separate consideration. The beauty of
forms geometrically symmetrical, in contradistinction from those
deficient in the correspondence of opposite halves, depends upon two
similar series of actions in different pairs or muscles. For example, the
survey of an ovate leaf, or indeed that of almost any vegetable leaf—so
numerous are the provisions for our gratification—requires for its
opposite halves two series of muscular actions, the different parts of the
one corresponding with those of the other in duration, intensity, and
order of succession. The gratification in this case results from the
harmony of muscular sensations individually pleasurable. The agreeableness
of this harmony may depend upon a principle more psychological than that
of the agreeableness of its elementary sensations. Yet the former is to a
certain extent susceptible of a physiological generalization. This harmony
would probably have been impaired by any considerable inequality in the
distances between the points of insertion of the recti muscles, or in the
strength of the antagonists. It is a curious coincidence, that in both
these respects, these muscles are more nearly symmetrical than any others
in the human body. Physiology, then, explains, not only the agreeableness
of the elementary sensations, which give rise to the perception of beauty
in regular curves, but unfolds the provisions for two similar series of
such sensations, not only in figures simply regular, but in those which
are simply symmetrical, and in those which are both symmetrical and
regular. The principles of muscular action explain the agreeableness of a
rapid succession of varied actions equally distributed among the muscles,
and the structure of the optical apparatus explains why the curvature and
regularity of an object require such actions in vision. Again, we discover
in the symmetrical structure and arrangement of the ocular muscles, a
provision for two similar series of pleasurable sensations in the survey
of a symmetrical figure, in whatever position it may be placed, provided
it retains its symmetry with respect to some visual plane. The coincidence
between the location of the ocular muscles diametrically opposite, on the
one hand, and our propensity to compare the opposite halves of bodies, and
the pleasure afforded by their similarity on the other hand, is curious,
and to a certain extent affords a physiological explanation of the beauty
of symmetrical forms.
“The same principles which apply to the beauty of form of inanimate
objects are applicable to the paths described by them in motion. The
intrinsic beauty of their motions is exclusively referrible to sensations
in the ocular muscles of the observer, while the gracefulness of human
motions is referrible in part to these, and in part to sensations in other
muscles.
“It would be foreign to the subject of the present memoir, to consider the
beauty of expression of the human countenance; although this species of
beauty is in a great degree referrible to muscular action. That muscular
action which belongs to the present topic is not that of the object, but
that of the observer. It may be scarcely necessary again to disclaim any
design of giving a complete analysis of beauty in general, or to repeat
the concession that man’s notions of beauty are modified by various
associations.
“Final Cause.—The benevolence of the Author of nature is strikingly
manifested in connecting present pleasure with obedience to the natural
laws. It has been shown that vision is attended with muscular action which
is generally pleasurable. If seeing had required no muscular action, we
should have wanted one of our present stimuli to the acquisition of
knowledge. This stimulus is especially necessary in infancy, and then
powerfully prompts to observation, even anterior to the dawnings of
intellectual curiosity, with which it subsequently co-operates. We see, in
this arrangement, the exemplification of a principle which extensively
pervades the laws under which we are placed by the Creator—which is, that
mental attainments, as well as other acquisitions, shall require action;
and that action shall be attended with pleasure. Whether the acquisition
is to be made by the manual labor of the artisan, by the manipulations of
the artist, the chymist, or the experimental philosopher, by the sedentary
student of books, or by the observer of natural phenomena in his original
survey of the universe—in every case it is muscular action.
“This application to natural theology, has thus far had reference to that
degree of intrinsic agreeableness which is common to forms in general. But
the laws of nature specially tend to the production of curved, regular,
and symmetrical objects and motions, in inorganic vegetable and animal
bodies; and impose the necessity of similar forms in artificial
structures. With a different structure and arrangement of the ocular
muscles, those forms peculiarly conducive to our welfare and that of the
universe, had possessed no peculiar attractions; and we had felt no
special impulse of this kind to conform our own artificial structures to
those laws of nature, or to investigate many of the most important works
of the Creator. Yet neither gravity or any other law of the external world
could have determined the peculiar formation of the muscles of the human
eye. We must, therefore, refer their actual structure and location to
that Being who gives to the objects of his creative power, and to the
principles by which he governs them, such a mutual adaptation as conduces
to the greatest achievable good. Thus, while muscular pleasure originally
prompts to the observation of the Creator’s works, this observation is
rewarded and subsequently prompted by a pleasure of an incomparably higher
order, of a character purely mental, by the discovery of moral beauty,
which in rank and refinement surpasses all others. Still, the muscular
pleasure of the eye strongly incites to the examination of the numberless
forms of beauty in the organic and inorganic kingdoms, such as the
symmetrical leaf, the bending bough, the symmetry of the tree itself that
of inferior animals, and of the human form. Or we may extend our view to
the circular or undulating horizon, the apparent limits of the apparently
round world; or we may elevate the eyes to the arched dome of the
firmament, on which the arches of the iris and aurora occasionally confer
additional beauty. Or with the telescope we may pierce this apparent limit
of upward vision, and discover beyond it a universe of spherical and
spheroidal worlds, revolving in circular and elliptical orbits, worlds and
orbits which present, even in our diminutive diagrams, a high order of
beauty, designed to incite us to the contemplation of these most
magnificent works of the Creator.
“All this beauty had been lost to man, but for the property of the eye,
which, on a superficial reflection, might seem a defect. It is no less
true than paradoxical, that the perception of these beauties depends on
indistinctness of vision. To a being so constituted as to see with equal
distinctness by oblique and direct vision, the same forms might be
presented, but not as forms of beauty. Has the Creator, then, sacrificed a
portion of our perceptive powers to our sensual gratification? I answer
no. Has he, then, sacrificed a portion of our direct means of acquiring
knowledge, to afford an incitement which should ultimately and indirectly
enhance our attainments? Again I am compelled to answer in the negative.
There is, in this arrangement, no intellectual sacrifice whatever, direct
or indirect. This indistinctness of oblique vision, which might seem a
defect, I consider an excellence. A simultaneous and distinct impression
received from the whole field of vision, would distract the attention and
preclude a minute and accurate examination of any particular part. But as
our eyes are so constituted as to receive a strong and distinct impression
only from the images of those objects toward which their axes are
directed, and as our minds are so constituted that we can in a great
measure neglect the weaker or less distinct impressions, we are able to
acquire a more exact knowledge of any part of the field to which we choose
to attend. To see every thing at once, would be to examine nothing. Such a
constitution of the eye would be to vision what an indiscriminating memory
is to the understanding.
STANDARD OF BEAUTY.
To show that the sentiments of mankind with regard to female beauty, have
been very various in different ages and nations, and that it is not
possible to establish a standard which shall comprehend all, without
discriminations, a few facts may be mentioned. Among the ancients, a small
forehead and joined eyebrows were much admired in a female countenance;
and in Persia, large joined eyebrows are still highly esteemed. In some
parts of Asia, black teeth and white hair, are essential ingredients in
the character of a beauty; and in the Marian Islands, it is customary
among the ladies to blacken their teeth with herbs, and to black their
hair with certain liquors. Beauty, in China and Japan, is composed of a
large countenance, small, and half-concealed eyes, a broad nose, little
and useless feet, and a prominent belly. The Flat-head Indians compress
the heads of their children between two boards, with a view to enlarge and
beautify the face; some tribes compress the head laterally; others depress
the crown, and others make the head as round as possible. “The Moors of
Africa,” says Park, “have singular ideas of female perfection; the
gracefulness of figure and motion, and a countenance enlivened by
expression, are by no means operative points in their standard; with them
corpulency and beauty are terms nearly synonymous. Or women of even
moderate pretensions, must be one who cannot walk without a slave under
each arm to support her, and a perfect beauty is a load for a camel. In
consequence of this prevalent taste for unwieldiness of bulk, the Moorish
ladies take great pains to acquire it early in life, and for this purpose
many of the young girls are compelled by their mothers to swallow a great
quantity of kouskous, and drink a large bowl of camel’s milk every
morning. It is of no importance whether the girl has an appetite or not,
the kouskous and milk must be swallowed, and obedience is frequently
enforced by blows. I have seen a poor girl sit crying with the bowl at her
lips for more than an hour, and her mother with a stick in her hand
watching her all the while, and using the stick without mercy whenever she
observed that her daughter was not swallowing. This singular practice,
instead of producing indigestion and disease, soon covers the young lady
with that degree of plumpness, which in the eye of a Moor, is perfection
itself.” These facts show that every nation almost has ideas of beauty
peculiar to itself; and it is no less evident that nearly every individual
has his own notions and taste concerning it. “The empire of beauty,
however,” says a writer already quoted, “amid these discordant ideas, with
respect to the qualities in which it consists, has been very generally
acknowledged, and particularly in all civilized countries; and when it is
united with other accomplishments that tend to render females amiable, it
contributes in no small degree, to give them importance and influence, to
polish the manners of society, and to contribute to its order and
happiness.”
TEMPERAMENT.
The views of Mr. Walker in relation to Temperaments, correspond with those
usually entertained by physiological writers. It is to be observed,
however, that they rarely occur simple in any individual, two or more
being generally combined. The bilious and nervous, for example, is a
common combination, which gives strength and activity; the lymphatic and
nervous, is also common, and produces sensitive delicacy of mental
constitution, conjoined with indolence. The nervous and sanguine
combined, give extreme vivacity, but without corresponding vigor. Dr.
Thomas of Paris, has advanced the following theory of the temperaments:
When the digestive organs, filling the abdominal cavity, are large, and
the lungs and brain small, the individual is lymphatic; he is fond of
feeding, and averse to mental and muscular exertion. When the heart and
lungs are large, and the brain and abdomen small, the individual is
sanguine; blood abounds, and is propelled with vigor; he is therefore
fond of muscular exercise, but averse to thought. When the brain is large,
and the abdominal and thoracic viscera small, great mental energy is the
consequence. These proportions may be combined in great varieties, and
modified results will ensue.[59] Mr. Combe, in his late lectures in this
city, laid great stress on the relative size of the three great visceral
cavities, in determining the temperament. Thus, if the abdominal and
thoracic cavities be small, and the cranial cavity large, the nervous
temperament is indicated. If the abdomen and scull be comparatively small,
and the chest large, the sanguine temperament is indicated. The
predominance of the abdominal cavity indicates the lymphatic temperament.
Mr. C. also pointed out the important changes produced in the temperament
by a long continued course of training. It is common for the bilious, to
be changed into the nervous temperament, by habits of mental activity, and
close study; and, on the other hand, we often see the nervous or bilious
changed into the lymphatic about the age of 40, when the nutritive system
seems to acquire the preponderance. Spurzheim used to say, that he had
originally a large portion of the lymphatic temperament, as had all his
family; but that in himself the lymphatic had gradually diminished, and
the nervous gradually increased; whereas, in his sisters, owing to mental
inactivity, the reverse had happened, and when he visited them, after
being absent many years, he found them, to use his own expression, “as
large as tuns.” The subject of temperament has been treated with
consummate ability by Dr. Charles Caldwell of Kentucky; and as his essay
is but little known, we shall present some extracts from it. It will be
seen that his views bear a close resemblance to those of Dr. Thomas,
already mentioned; but Dr. C. has shown that they were publicly maintained
by him, at least two years before the appearance of Dr. Thomas’s work.[60]
After explaining the doctrine of the temperaments, as taught by the
ancients, and showing that it is founded on the exploded hypothesis of
humoralism, Dr. C. goes on to show, that it is the solids of the body
which make man what he is; that they form the fluids, and give them
their character; that they are, in short, the cause, and the fluids the
effect.
“The difference,” says Dr. C., “between individuals, or rather classes, of
the human family, which temperament is made to designate, appears to
depend on two causes; diversity of organization in parts or the whole of
the bodies of different persons, giving rise to a corresponding diversity
in the vital properties; and difference of size and vigor in certain
ruling organs of the system. The existence and influence of the former of
these causes are in the highest degree probable; those of the latter
certain. The one is susceptible of strong support, the other of proof that
may be termed positive. By ‘organization’ is here meant, the minute
interior or radical structure of the tissues which compose the human body.
That diversity in this creates a diversity in the vital properties, and
that again a diversity in character, cannot I think be doubted. Whether
the difference of organization here referred to, consists in different
proportions of the element of living matter that form the tissues, united
in the same way, or in their different modes of arrangement and union, or
both, or whether it may not arise in part from different proportions of
the simpler tissues entering into the formation of the more compound
organs, is not known. Minute anatomy has not yet attained a degree of
perfection competent to settle a point of such subtility.”
Dr. C. afterward goes on to prove that no single nerve, or organ, can
perform two distinct functions, but that each is capable of one mode of
action, and no more; that between a nerve, a muscle, and a gland, the only
difference known to exist, is that of organization; and that if they are
organized alike, and endowed with life, their properties will be similar,
and they will act in the same way. So also between animals of the same
race, we discover innumerable differences, which can be referred to
nothing but differences in organization, and the same may be affirmed of
vegetables. The conclusion to which Dr. C. arrives, and which he maintains
with great ingenuity is, that independently of all other causes,
differences in human temperament are to be attributed, in part, to
corresponding differences in the organization of certain portions, or the
whole of the body; and that, other things being equal, in consequence of
this source of influence alone, one person differs from another in many of
the qualities of both person and intellect. In other words, he is more
highly gifted, sprightly, and vigorous, or the reverse; or he is more
courageous or timid, generous or selfish, according to his organization.
“But the second cause that was represented to be instrumental in
diversifying the human temperaments is by far the most powerful. It will
be remembered to have been, ‘difference of size and vigor in certain
ruling organs of the system.’ The organs alluded to are those contained in
the three great cavities of the body; the chylopoetic, situated in the
abdomen, and including the stomach and intestines, with the liver,
pancreas, mesentery, and lacteals; those of sanguification and
circulation, situated in the thorax, and consisting of the lungs, heart,
and bloodvessels; and the brain, with its appendages, the spinal cord and
nerves. These three groups (for the brain is multiplex as well as the
other two) are not only the ruling organs in the person of man; connected
with the hard and soft parts that enclose them, they constitute the
person. The upper and lower extremities are but appendages; important and
necessary, it must be acknowledged; but still appendages. The individual
can exist and be a human being without them. Nor have they any influence
in imparting constitutional character to their possessors. Standing only
in the capacity of subordinates to the controlling organs, they are not
only nourished and put in motion by them; they labor mechanically for
their uses, and serve as instruments to execute their purposes. They are
composed of the extreme ends of the organized matter of the system,
constitute only its outworks, and possess but little influence over its
central parts. This representation rests on evidence that may be termed
demonstrative. Many persons destitute of the upper or lower extremities,
or both, have strong characters and well-marked temperaments. But the
extremities, if deprived of the influence of any one group of the ruling
organs, are converted not only into useless but lifeless masses. Of the
skin, muscles, and bones, which compose the head, neck, and trunk of the
body, the same is true. Of themselves they possess no character, and can
therefore bestow none. They also are but appendages to the organs they
cover, affording them a secure lodgment and protection from external
injuries, and aiding them in the performance of some of their functions.
And from this alone is their importance derived. Were it possible for them
to exist apart from the viscera they contain, their grade of being would
be below that of many vegetables. Most fatal diseases, moreover, have
their original seat in the viscera of one of the three great cavities of
the body, and no disease originating elsewhere can become fatal, until, by
sympathy or metastasis, some of those parts are deeply affected. To
enlightened physiologists this statement presents but a series of familiar
truths. To the groups of organs exclusively, then, I repeat, contained in
the abdomen, the thorax, and the cranium, must we look as the main source
of human character. And that character is different according to the
predominance, in different individuals, of one group or another, or of any
two of them. An equilibrium between the three groups constitutes another
variety, by bestowing on character a corresponding equilibrium. Let the
word temperament be substituted for ‘character,’ and what is true of the
latter will be so of the former. As already mentioned, the organs referred
to will be its source; and the differences in their predominance will give
diversity to it.”
Dr. C. then shows that the strength and perfection of each of the senses
are proportioned to the size of the nerve on which that sense depends.
This is illustrated by a powerful array of facts, drawn from different
orders of the animal kingdom, as well as from the different varieties of
mankind. It is also stated, that where any nerve or set of nerves, is
peculiarly large, the portion of the brain to which they belong, and by
which they are influenced and commanded, is correspondingly large.
“Inasmuch, then, as, other things being equal, size gives power to
everything else, we are not only justified in believing, on grounds of
analogy we are compelled to believe, that the same is true of the organs
contained in the cranium, the thorax, and the abdomen. When they are in a
sound and natural condition, their size is also the measure of their
power. Were not this the case, they would be either altogether abnormal,
or subject to laws that govern no other kind of matter, whether organic or
inorganic, of which we have any knowledge. But the position I am
contending for is not to be regarded as a mere inference in a process of
reasoning. It will appear hereafter that it is a positive fact, which
observation has discovered, and continues to confirm.
I have alleged that the size of the three groups of ruling organs may be
ascertained by that of the cases in which they are contained. Nor do I
perceive on what ground any one, who is even moderately acquainted with
the structure of the human body, can controvert the belief, or cherish the
slightest doubt on the subject of it. In healthy persons (and my remarks
relate only to such) the size of the brain is necessarily known by that of
the head. As the viscus completely fills the cranium, the case cannot be
otherwise. Although the bones of the head and the soft parts that cover
them are thicker in some individuals than in others, the difference is so
small as not materially to affect the result. The chest is filled by the
lungs, heart, and large bloodvessels. Its measure, therefore, cannot fail
to be the measure of them. Any deviation from exactness in this, that may
be produced by varieties in the thickness of the skin, muscles, and other
parts, is of no moment. Of the chylopoetic viscera the same is true. They
also fill exactly the cavity prepared for them. The size of the abdomen,
therefore, affords a knowledge of their size sufficiently accurate for all
practical purposes. By a mere inspection of the person of man, then, the
absolute measure of the groups of organs I am considering, as well as
their magnitude in relation to each other, can be fairly ascertained. And
it will appear on examination, as already stated, that the predominance in
size and energy of any one or two of them, always imparts a corresponding
diversity to the human character. Does the brain predominate? The
individual to whom it belongs is more remarkable for the vigor of his
intellect or feeling, or both, than for any other constitutional quality.
These modes of mental manifestation constitute the natural functions of
the brain; and when of an order unusually high, they give a peculiarity of
character to the whole system. The person thus endowed feels more keenly,
thinks more strongly, is more eager in pursuit of knowledge, and attains
it with more facility. His relish for pleasure is also inordinately keen,
and he pursues it at times with burning ardor. Such was the constitutional
character of Mr. Fox, and also of our distinguished countryman the late
Mr. Bayard. I need scarcely add, that this predominance of sensibility and
mental action must necessarily modify the diseases the individual may
sustain. But of this I shall speak hereafter. Do the lungs, heart, and
bloodvessels predominate? A larger volume of highly arterialized blood is
formed, and thrown more forcibly and in greater quantities throughout the
system. From the abundance of that fluid, and the superior size of the
vessels conveying it, those parts of the body nourished by the red blood
will be comparatively most copiously supplied. But it is more especially
the muscles that are thus nourished. They will be therefore large and
powerful. Hence persons with broad and full chests have well-developed and
vigorous muscles. In proportion to their size their animal strength is
necessarily great. Nor can such constitutional peculiarities fail to be
productive of peculiarities in disease? Do the chylopoetic viscera
predominate? The amount of chyle formed is very large in proportion to the
quantity of food eaten. But the lungs, heart, and bloodvessels being
comparatively small, neither is sanguification abundant and perfect nor
circulation vigorous. The blood is not either highly arterialized or
animalized. Its amount of red globules is small, and it circulates feebly
through vessels of a limited size. The consequence is, that the muscles
receive less red blood, and are less fully nourished; the system at large
is not so highly endued with life, and the soft parts generally have a
lower tone. The individual thus marked is less robust and vigorous than
one whose system is supplied abundantly with highly arterialized blood,
and less intellectual and sprightly than those whose brain predominates.
It is almost needless to say, that, under such circumstances, disease must
be modified in conformity to the constitution.
“From the preceding views it clearly appears, that the comparative
standing of individual man, as relates to his race, is graduated by the
predominance of his leading organs. Do his abdominal viscera preponderate?
He has much of the animal in him, and his grade is low. Are his thoracic
viscera most highly developed? His qualities are of a superior order; but
he still partakes too much of the animal. Does his cerebral system
predominate; and is it well developed in all its parts? He rises above the
sphere of animal nature, and stands high in that of humanity. He is formed
for an intellectual and moral being, with no more of animality in his
constitution, than is necessary to give him practical energy of character.
“This subject may be farther illustrated by a reference to some of the
animals below us. The worm commonly denominated a grub is but little else
than a mass of abdominal matter. It is therefore one of the humblest and
grossest of worms. The insect has also a large abdomen, with a very small
chest, and a smaller head. Hence, though superior to the grub, it is low
in the scale of animal nature. Reptiles and fish are more elevated,
because their abdominal viscera preponderate less. But still they do
preponderate; and therefore the rank of the animals is humble. In the hog
the abdominal viscera are most strongly developed, and hence his standing
among quadrupeds is low. The same is true of the bear and the ox, and also
of the sheep and the goat, but in an inferior degree. The horse,
especially the barb and the racehorse, furnish no bad specimens of the
mixed or balanced temperament. When the latter is undergoing preparation
for the course, the object of his keeper is to make the thoracic
temperament preponderate as much as possible, for the time, in order to
increase his vigor and endurance; in the language of the turf, to give him
more strength and ‘better bottom.’ The warhorse approaches the thoracic
temperament. In the canine race, more especially in the greyhound, the
thoracic viscera hold the ascendency. Hence the muscular power of the dog
is greater, and his grade among quadrupeds higher than those of most of
the preceding animals. The same is true of the wolf, the panther, and the
tiger. In some dogs there is a considerable cerebral development, but it
is never large enough to counterbalance the thoracic. Of all animals, the
lion affords the most finished specimen of thoracic preponderance. In
proportion to his size, his lungs and heart, especially the latter, are
immensely large. And his muscular power corresponds to them. The magnitude
of his heart is generally considered the cause of his boldness. Hence a
very courageous man is said to have a great heart, or to be
lion-hearted. All this is popular error. The heart is but a muscle; and,
in man, has no more connexion with courage than the gastrocnemii muscles;
nor, in the lion, than the muscles that move his tail. Courage is
exclusively a cerebral attribute, and has its seat in an organ
specifically appropriated to it. In none of the inferior animals does the
brain preponderate. That preponderance belongs to humanity, and, as
already mentioned, indicates its highest grade. Of all the beings below
us, some of the ape tribe have the highest cerebral development. And they
approach nearest to man in their degree of intellect. This is farther
proof that, other things being alike, the brain gives the measure of
mental power. I have lately seen a publication, in which it is gravely
asserted, that the large orang-outang catches crabs with a stick, and
makes a rude basket of osiers to contain them. Notwithstanding the
well-known sagacity of that animal, this statement savors strongly of the
‘tale of a traveller.’”
“Considered in relation to these principles, temperament may be divided
into seven varieties. 1, the mixed or balanced, in which the ruling organs
are in fair proportion to each other; 2, the encephalic; 3, the thoracic;
4, the abdominal; 5, the encephalo-thoracic; 6, the encephalo-abdominal;
and 7, the thoracico-abdominal.”
“1. The mixed or balanced variety. In this the name explains the
temperament. The external marks of it are plain. They consist in a
well-adjusted proportion between the sizes of the head, thorax, and
abdomen. If the limbs are in harmony, the symmetry of the entire person is
complete. Although individuals, in whom this temperament prevails, are
usually above the middle height, and well-formed, they are not necessarily
so. They may be of any stature, and any shape, straight or crooked,
provided the three great cavities and their contents be accurately
balanced. This is not the temperament of either early life or old age. It
commences with manhood, and continues until the fortieth or forty-fifth
year, and then passes into somewhat of the abdominal. The Apollo
Belvidere, by Phidias, is an exquisite specimen of it. But some modern
artists have violated it, in painting that statue, by making the chest and
the head loo large. Although the manifestation of strength, majesty, and
intellect, is heightened by this, the beauty of the youthful god is
marred. The figure, though more imposing, has lost its charm.”
“2. The encephalic. In this variety the head is relatively large, but is
not always equally developed in every part, a circumstance which varies
greatly, as will presently appear, the characters of those who possess the
temperament. The development of the thorax and abdomen is moderate, the
person lean, and the countenance expressive of intense feeling and deep
passion. In some individuals, however, the countenance beams with
intelligence, without much passion, while, in others, manifestations of
powerful intellect and passion are united. The thoracic and abdominal
activity is never high; yet in many instances the personal hardihood and
endurance are invincible. It is men of this temperament alone that can
immortalize themselves by great achievements, good or bad. All history and
observation testify to this. Is the development very large in the moral
and intellectual regions of the brain, and so moderate in the animal as to
be held fully in check? The individual will distinguish himself by a
dignified purity of deportment, and by the performance of great and good
deeds.”
“Are the animal and mere knowing compartments largely developed, and the
moral and reflecting very slightly? As relates to vice and profligacy in
their foulest shapes, this is the worst of all temperaments. Nothing more
prone to depravity can be imagined. The person possessed of it delights in
some sort of animality alone; and if he ever engages in anything higher or
purer, it is for a sinister purpose, that he may return to his chosen
indulgences in more security, or on a broader scale.”
“Is the development very large, and equally so in all the departments of
the brain, animal, moral, and intellectual, giving to the head unusual
size? The individual possessing it has a lofty and powerful character, is
capable of attaining the highest renown, and making an impression, not to
be erased, on the age and country in which he lives. His career may be
occasionally stained by irregularities and checkered with clouds, but will
be brilliant in the main. His designs are vast, because he feels his
power, the instruments with which he works are men, and he wields them in
masses. The term little has no place in his vocabulary, nor its
prototype in his thoughts. His aim is greatness of some kind—high
achievement or deep catastrophe.”
“3. The thoracic. Under this variety the head is small, usually round,
and covered with thick curling hair, the abdomen of limited dimensions,
the chest spacious and powerful, and the muscles swelling and firm.
Whether fair and ruddy or otherwise, the complexion is strong. Respiration
is full and deep, and the action of the heart regular and vigorous; and
the pulse has great volume. Like the result, in every other kind of
inordinate vital action, the animal temperature is high. This temperament,
in which neither feeling nor intellect prevails, begins to show itself
about puberty, and continues until the decline of life, when it undergoes
a change. The Farnesian Hercules is the beau ideal of it. This shows
that it was known to the ancient Greeks, who were probably indebted for
their acquaintance with it to observations made on the persons of their
wrestlers. In modern times it is strongly developed in boxers and porters,
and sufficiently so in bakers, wood-choppers, operative agriculturists,
and others who have been habituated to labor from their boyhood. I have
observed no little of it among the London boatmen, the occupation of whose
life is to ply the oar, a mode of exercise well calculated to develop the
chest, together with the muscles of the upper extremities. I have seen
good specimens of it also in the African race.”
“4. The abdominal. This temperament is easily recognised by the
character it imparts to the person and intellect. The pelvis is broad in
proportion to the shoulders and thorax, the abdomen large and prominent,
and the adipose matter abundant, filling up the interstices of the
muscles, and often forming a layer between them and the skin, in
consequence of which the limbs are round and smooth and soft to the touch.
In such constitutions, ecchymosis succeeds with unusual readiness, to
slight contusions. Circulation in the skin being feeble, the complexion
may be fair and delicate, but never very ruddy or strong. The size of the
head is limited, the intellectual moderate, the eye deficient in lustre
and the countenance in expression, and the movements heavy and seldom
graceful. The abdominal viscera seem to draw everything into the vortex of
their action. The amount of vitality is evidently below its common measure
in the human system, and, in some instances, the flesh seems to hang as a
load on the spirit.”
“5. The encephalo-thoracic. This temperament is a type of power both
bodily and mental. Its compound name expresses fully the external
appearances that mark it, as well as the attributes that always accompany
them. With an abdomen of moderate dimensions, the head of the individual
who possesses it is large and vigorous to conceive and direct, and his
chest and muscles powerful to execute, and hardy to endure. It is the
temperament of masculine and comprehensive thought and strong propensity,
united to energetic action, rather than of seclusion and profound
meditation. As in all other cases, the character is varied in it according
to the portion of the brain that is most largely developed. He to whom it
belongs feels himself in his proper sphere when he is among men, and is
well fitted to act his part in times of tumult and scenes of difficulty.
Is his brain large in each of its compartments? If an occasion present
itself, he not only mingles in the moral storm, but aspires to direct it.
In case of his becoming a warrior, his genius and sword are alike
formidable. In battle, previously to the invention of fire-arms, such a
man was the terror of his enemies and the hope of his friends. Ulysses, as
sketched by Homer, is as fairly the beau ideal of this temperament, as
Hercules is of the thoracic. That chieftain was alike wise to counsel,
intrepid to dare, and powerful to perform. Plato, so called from the
uncommon breadth of his chest, who had also a very large head, is another
excellent model of the same. Even in times of peace the corporeal
attributes of a man of this description add to his influence. Jupiter, the
emblem of wisdom and power, as represented by the ancient statuaries, with
an immense head and trunk, and arms of matchless strength, is as finished
a specimen of the encephalo-thoracic temperament, as Apollo is of the
mixed.”
“6. The encephalo-abdominal. Here again the name bespeaks sufficiently
the development, form, and character of those who possess the temperament.
The head and abdomen are comparatively large, the thorax small, and the
shoulders narrow. Hence the sensibility is keen, and the intellect, if not
powerful, active and respectable. For the reasons given, when the
abdominal temperament was considered, the limbs and person, under the
present one, are round and smooth, and the flesh is soft; but, owing to
the influence of a well-developed brain, and nerves that correspond to it,
the movements are sprightly and the air graceful. Though rarely powerful,
the character is attractive. This is the temperament of childhood and
woman, much more than of adult life and man. Fine genius, but elegant and
playful, rather than strong and brilliant, is often connected with it. It
is females, in whom the encephalic development is larger than usual, that
possess minds truly masculine.”
“7. The thoracico-abdominal. In this temperament the head is
comparatively small, and the thorax and abdomen large, with a
corresponding size of the muscles and bones, and much adipose substance.
It is the temperament of mere animal strength and patient endurance,
without any of the elevated, sprightly, or attractive qualities of human
nature. It forms good laborers and fatigue-men, but is entirely unfit for
those whose province is to meditate, plan, and direct. It comports well
enough with the character of soldiers of a certain description, but is
altogether out of harmony with that of an officer. It is, I think, more
favorable to health than any of the other temperaments, except perhaps the
mixed. If those who possess it have weak intellects, their passions are
usually moderate, and rarely hurry them into pernicious excesses. The
tenor of their lives is but little interrupted by either irregularity or
disease. Hence they retain their vigor uncommonly well, and are often
day-laborers and industrious husbandmen at an advanced age. True, their
appetite for food is strong; but they are not prone to an excessive
indulgence of it; I mean at a single meal. Like those possessed of the
abdominal temperament, they eat often rather than superabundantly at once.
Besides, such is the strength of their chylopoetic viscera, that they
subdue and digest without sustaining any injury, as much food as would
produce disease in those of different constitutions. Nor are they so much
endangered by vascular fulness as persons of the simple abdominal
temperament. The reason of this is plain. Their bloodvessels are larger,
and their excretions more copious, especially those by the skin and the
organ of respiration. From the warmth of their constitutions, owing to an
abundance of well-arterialized blood, and a concomitant vigorous
circulation, they perspire freely, and secrete and exhale copiously from
the lungs. This temperament is rarely found among women, and is not very
common among men.”
Dr. C. maintains that at certain periods of life, one temperament passes
into another, as the result of the natural changes which take place, in
the progress of the growth and decay of the human body; and that every
one, who attains longevity, partakes, in the progress of growth and
decline, of five temperaments; the purely abdominal, which prevails
before birth; the encephalo-abdominal, which exists at birth, and for
some years afterward; the encephalo-thoracic; the mixed; and the
abdominal of real senility. Thus passes the circle of life, beginning
with the abdominal temperament of the foetal state, and terminating in
that of extreme old age.
That there is an intimate connexion between temperament and personal
beauty, will be manifest from the above view of the subject. Our limits,
however, forbid an application of Dr. Caldwell’s views in illustration of
Mr. Walker’s theory; these, however, have been given so much in detail,
that the reader will be able to make the application for himself.
There is hardly any habit relating to female dress more destructive of
grace and beauty, at least of deportment, than that of compressing the
foot in a shoe of one half the proper size. It would seem that our ladies
were trying to ape the fashion of the Chinese, in this respect, and though
they do not at present carry it to the same extent, yet they carry it
sufficiently far to destroy their comfort. We look in vain for the
sprightly, light, and elastic step, where the feet are bound tight, and
cramped up in disproportionately tight shoes; and it would be strange in
such a case, if we did not find an unhappy and distressed expression of
countenance—the muscles of the face sympathizing with the distorted and
painful feet. Such a custom, also, interferes materially with taking that
measure of exercise which is necessary to health. Mrs. Walker, in her work
on Female Beauty, remarks as follows: “Ladies are very apt to torture
their feet to make them appear small. This is exceedingly ridiculous: a
very small foot is a deformity. True beauty of each part consists in the
proportion it bears to the rest of the body. A tight or ill-made shoe, not
only destroys the shape of the foot, it produces corns and bunions; and it
tends to impede the circulation of the blood. Besides, the foot then
swells, and appears larger than it is, and the ankles become thick and
clumsy.”
The pernicious effect of tight or ill-made shoes, is evident also in the
stiff and tottering gait of these victims of a foolish prejudice; they can
neither stand upright, walk straight, nor enter a room properly.
To be too short, is one of the greatest defects a shoe can have; because
it takes away all chance of yielding in that direction, and without
offering any compensation for tightness in others, and in itself, it not
only causes pain, and spoils the shape of the foot, by turning down the
toes, and swelling of the instep, but is the cause of bad gait and
carriage. Many diseases arise solely from the use of shoes of very thin
materials in wet weather; but no female who has the slightest regard for
her health, or indeed for the preservation of her beauty, will object to
wear shoes thicker than are usually worn, if the pavement is at any time
wet or damp.
The effect of alcoholic drinks upon beauty, has not been over-estimated by
Mr. Walker, though he is doubtless mistaken in supposing that none but
those who reside amid the artificial customs of city life, experience the
deleterious influence of such beverages. Not only alcoholic stimulants,
but tea and coffee, and especially opium, which has of late come into very
extensive use as a substitute for the former, tend to produce an unhealthy
action of the skin, from their influence upon the secerent system, causing
blotches, pimples, and discolorations, in a greater or less degree. Where
used moderately, they produce either an unnatural paleness, deadness, or
duskiness of complexion, or a bloated appearance, far removed from the
fresh roseate hue of health. Such is the effect of wine, cordials, and
malt liquors, which are extensively employed by ladies, particularly in
cities, during the period of nursing, under a mistaken impression that
they cause a greater flow of milk, and tend to invigorate the system.
Whoever desires to attain health, strength, and beauty, should not seek
them through the agency of bitters, tonics, and cordials, or distilled, or
fermented liquors, which only inflame the blood, but from free exercise in
the open air, regular occupations, tranquillity of mind, a mild diet, and
a proper allotment of time for sleep.
It has been remarked that the lower classes of females in cities, consume
as much, and probably more intoxicating drinks, than men of the same
class, and this is no doubt true. But to the honor of our countrywomen, a
great change has been brought about within last few years, with respect to
the use of alcoholic liquors, not only in this, but in other countries,
with a corresponding improvement in health, happiness, and beauty. In
advancing this blessed reform, the ladies have borne a conspicuous
part—as they have in every other philanthropic work—and their combined
influence is only needed, to banish such drinks entirely from civilized
society.
THE FACIAL LINE OF CAMPER.
In order to determine the cerebral mass, and, consequently, the
intellectual faculties, Camper draws a base line from the roots of the
upper incisors, to the external auditory passage; then another straight
line, from the upper incisors to the most elevated point of the forehead:
according to him, the intellectual faculties of the man or animal, are in
direct proportion to the magnitude of the angle, made by those two lines.
Lavater, with this idea for a basis, constructed a scale of perfection
from the frog to the Apollo Belvidere. As nature really furnishes many
proofs in support of this opinion, it has been generally received, even by
anatomists and physiologists; and, notwithstanding the arguments by which
it is victoriously opposed, the learned cannot resolve to abandon it.
Cuvier himself furnishes a list of men and animals, in support of this
doctrine; few naturalists oppose it, but almost all give it their
support.[61]
Camper’s attempt necessarily failed; for his manner of drawing the lines
and measuring the facial angle, enabled him to take into consideration the
anterior parts only of the brain situated near the forehead: he entirely
neglects the posterior, lateral, and inferior cerebral parts. This method,
then, at most, could decide upon those faculties only, whose organs are
placed near the forehead.
Cuvier estimates the facial angle of the new-born infant at ninety
degrees; that of the adult, at eighty-five; that of decrepit old age, at
fifty.
From this statement it appears, that, at different ages, changes take
place in the form, either of the brain or the cranium; hereafter I shall
prove that such changes really occur.
The forehead of the newborn infant is flattened; on the contrary, that of
a child some months old, and until the age of eight or ten years,
especially in the case of boys possessed of superior talents, it is
projecting, and forms, notwithstanding the approximation to the age of
puberty, a larger facial angle than in the adult; this angle, therefore,
does not diminish in the inverse ratio of the age. In like manner we find
decrepit old men, whose facial angle is as great as it was in the vigor of
manhood; for, although in decrepitude the brain is subject to atrophy,
there are old men, the exterior contour of whose crania undergoes no
change. The angle, as stated by Cuvier, for different ages, were measured
upon different individuals; if it were estimated upon the same persons at
different epochs of his life, the result would be entirely different.
In general, the proportion between the forehead and the face, is
different in different individuals. No conclusion can be drawn from the
proportions, which exist in one person, relative to those of another;
among a hundred individuals of the same sex and age, no two can be found,
in whom the same proportion exists between the forehead and the face; it
necessarily follows, then, that no two will have the same facial angle.
Physiologists seem to admit, that the proportion between the brain and the
bones of the face, is different in different species of animals: but they
appear to think that, in all the individuals of the same species, all the
young, all the adults, all the old, there exists a constant proportion
between the cerebral mass and the face.
The researches of Blumenbach show that threefourths of the animals known,
have nearly the same facial angle; and yet what a disparity between their
instincts and faculties! What information, then, do we derive from
Camper’s facial angle?
Moreover, as Cuvier himself observes, the cerebral mass is by no means
placed in all animals, immediately behind or beneath what is called the
forehead. In a great many species of animals, on the contrary, the
external table of the frontal is at a considerable distance from the
internal, and this distance increases with the age of the animal. The
brain of the swine is placed an inch lower than the frontal bones seem to
indicate; that of the ox, in some parts three inches; that of the
elephant, from six to thirteen. In other animals, the measurement is
generally commenced at the frontal sinus instead of the cerebrum. From
these considerations, Cuvier was induced to draw a tangent to the internal
instead of the external surface of the cranium. The cerebrum of the wolf
and many species of dogs, especially when the individuals are very old, is
placed directly behind the frontal sinuses. In the wolf, especially the
large and most ferocious variety, it is depressed as in the hyena; in the
dog it is situated higher or lower, according to the species; but,
notwithstanding this difference in the situation of the brain, the facial
angle, as it is commonly measured, must be the same; from this the
inference would be, that the dog, the wolf, and the hyena, have the same
qualities, and each in the same degree. In the greater part of the
rodentia, the morse, &c., the brain is so depressed and so placed behind
the frontal sinuses, that the facial line cannot be drawn. The facial line
of the cetacea, on account of the singular conformation of the head, would
lead to results absolutely false.
I know many negroes, who, with very prominent jaws, are quite
distinguished for their intellectual faculties; yet the projection of the
jaws renders the facial angle much more acute, than it would be with the
usual conformation of Europeans. In order that the same angle should exist
in a European, the forehead must be flattened and retreating. But the
foreheads of the negroes in question, on the contrary, are very
projecting. Who, under these circumstances, would expect to find the same
amount of intellect corresponding to the same facial angle?
The facial line cannot be applied to birds, as many naturalists have
already observed.
From what has been said, we should expect that naturalists would at length
renounce the facial angle of Camper; but the most ignorant are generally
the most conceited.
In spite of this complete refutation of Camper’s facial line, Delpit
extols it in the following terms:—
“If ever a relation of this kind presented characters of generality and
fixedness, adequate to excite a reasonable confidence in matters belonging
to the domain of empiricism, rather than that of science, it is the
relation or proportion of magnitude, which Camper first perceived and
revealed, by comparing the brain of man with that of the different species
of animals. We here see a successive decrease of intelligence,
proportionate to the acuteness of the facial angle and the consequent
diminution of the cerebral cavity. This affords a constant and fixed
relation. It can be appreciated with a sufficient degree of exactness by
the direct light of comparative anatomy, and by observation of the habits
and intelligence of the different classes of animals; it can also be
verified by the comparison of men very unequally endowed with intellectual
faculties, in whom the contraction of the cerebral cavity and the
magnitude of the facial angle exhibit the most remarkable diversities.
Here the physiognomical sign has, if I may be allowed the expression, a
wide extent of acceptation; it rests upon a broad basis, upon a definite
division, and one of easy comprehension and verification; for, if there is
some discrepancy of opinion, in regard to the number and nomenclature of
the faculties of the mind, the sentiments of the soul, the modifications
or shades of character which give birth to particular passions, moral
dispositions, habits, whether virtuous or vicious; if these
classifications are, in a great measure, arbitrary, and the language used
somewhat vague; if, in short, the greater part of these nominal faculties
are mere abstractions of the mind, purely imaginary existences, and
therefore cannot be actually located in any part of the brain; the case is
quite different, when we merely seek to establish a general relation
between a constant sign manifested in the organization, and the degree of
reason, mind, or intellect, attributed to different men, or the degrees of
sagacity attributed to different species of animals. Here, no one is at a
loss, because there is ample latitude for comparing and judging; in the
system of Gall, on the contrary, the comparisons rest upon minute points,
which are subject to discussion, exceptions, a thousand uncertainties in
the signs and various applications.”[62]
If the reader will review what I have said against Camper’s facial line,
he will find a refutation of all this reasoning of Delpit; a proof that he
defends it merely because it is in vogue. It is this very generality and
fixedness, which render it, in almost all cases, inapplicable; this is the
inherent defect in the supposed importance of Camper’s facial angle. It is
implicitly supposed, that no difference but that of degree, exists between
the capacities of the different species and individuals of the human race,
and the different species and individuals of the animal kingdom. Thus the
intelligence of men and other animals would always be proportioned to the
magnitude of the facial angle. This being premised, I ask, which, out of
two, three, four, &c., has the most intelligence, the dog, ape, beaver,
the ant, or the bee? Ants and bees live in an admirable republic, and form
astonishing constructions, which they know how to modify according to
circumstances. The beaver and penduline build with equally marvellous
skill, and with a foresight which seldom errs; the dog and the ape have
very little foresight, and are incapable of the most insignificant
construction. Which has the greater intelligence, Voltaire or Descartes?
Could the former have been a mathematician and the latter a poet? Which
has the higher degree of intellect, Mozart or Lessing, who, with all his
genius, detested music? In short, which has the most intelligence, my dog
who retraces his steps through the most complicated routes, or myself, who
am always going astray? Measure now the facial angle of the ant, bee,
beaver, penduline, ape, my dog, and of myself, and estimate the result.
Acknowledge, then, that your division, so definite, so easy to be
apprehended, is absolutely useless, and that you are obliged to advert to
divers instincts, propensities, faculties, and their different degrees of
energy, to which your facial angle is wholly inapplicable. Your
intelligence, instinct, address, are in reality mere abstractions,
imaginary existences. Do you consider the propensity to procreation, the
love of offspring, the carnivorous instinct, the talent for music, poetry,
&c., as imaginary existences? You see, then, that it is more convenient to
tread the beaten path, than to verify observations.—Gall on the
Functions of the Brain, page 195.
Footnotes:
[1] Utopia, Book II., chap. viii.
[2] I do not wish to be forced into any discussion of this last point.
But, if necessary, I shall not decline it.
[3] We fear that Mr. Walker’s analogical reasoning here is not very
conclusive. To reason from a living to a dead subject may be very logical
but it is not altogether satisfactory.
[4] “The Magazine of The Fine Arts,” No. VI, for October 1833.
[5] I am not here called upon to vindicate the errors and absurdities
which poets and others introduced into mythology.
[6] Appendix A.
[7] George IV., though the “first gentleman” in England, was guilty of
cheating at a horserace.—Ed.
[8] The above remark is true of the same class of females in this
country.—Ed.
[9] Appendix B.
[10] Appendix C.
[11] To the reader unaccustomed to inquiries of this kind, it may save
trouble to peruse first the brief Summary of the contents of this
important chapter, beginning in page 120.
[12] Regularity expresses the similarity of parts considered as
constituting a whole; and uniformity, the similarity of parts considered
separately.
[13] Appendix D
[14] The common character of these arts has been overlooked.
[15] Proportion is here employed, not as expressing an intrinsic relation,
as in the beauty of inanimate beings, but as expressing an extrinsic
relation to fitness for ends.
[16] “The Nervous System, Anatomical and Physiological: in which the
Functions of the various Parts of the Brain are, for the first time,
assigned.”
[17] Communicated by the writer to the “Magazine of the Fine Arts,” No.
11, for June, 1833.
[18] “Human Nature,” chap, ix., sec. 13.
[19] “Reflexions Critiques sur la Poesie et sur la Peinture.”
[20] “Reflexions sur la Poetique.”
[21] “Adventurer,” No. 110.
[22] Essay on Tragedy.
[23] To some it may appear, that the organs and functions of digestion,
respiration, and generation, are not involved by this arrangement; but
such a notion can originate only in superficial observation.
Digestion is a compound function easily reducible to some of the simple
ones which have been enumerated. It consists of the motion of the stomach
and contiguous parts, of the secretion of a liquid from its internal
surface, and of that heat, which is the common result of all action,
whether mechanical, vital, or mental, and which is better explained by
such motion, than by chymical theories. Similarly compound are respiration
and generation.
Thus, there is no organ nor function which is not involved by the simple
and natural arrangement here sketched.
Compound, however, as the organs of digestion, respiration, and
generation, are, yet, as they form so important a part of the system, it
may be asked, with which of these classes they are most allied. The answer
is obvious. All of them consist of tubular vessels of various diameter;
and all of them transmit and transmute liquids. Possessing such strong
characteristics of the nutritive or vital system, they are evidently most
allied to it.
In short, digestion prepares the nutritive or vital matter, which is taken
up by absorption—the first of the simple nutritive functions; respiration
renovates it in the very middle of its course—between the two portions of
the simple function of circulation; and generation, dependant on
secretion—the last of these functions, communicates this nutritive
matter, or propagates vitality to a new series of beings. In such
arrangement, the digestive organs, therefore, precede, and the generative
follow, the simple nutritive organs; while the respiratory occupy a middle
place between the venous and the arterial circulation.
Nothing can be more improper, as the preceding observations show, than
considering any one of these as a distinct class.
More fully, therefore, to enumerate the nutritive or vital organs, we may
say, that, under them, are classed, first, the organs of digestion, the
external and internal absorbent surfaces, and the vessels which absorb
from these surfaces, or the organs of absorption; second, the heart,
lungs, and bloodvessels, which derive their contents (the blood) from the
absorbed lymph, or the organs of circulation; and third, the secreting
cavities, glands, &c., which separate various matters from the blood, or
the organs of secretion, and of which generation is the sequel.
[24] Appendix E.
[25] In perfect consistency with the assertion, that, though the organs of
digestion, respiration, and generation, were really compound, still they
were chiefly nutritive or vital, and properly belonged to that class, it
is not less remarkable, that, in this division of the body, they are found
to occupy that part, the trunk, in which the chief simple nutritive organs
are contained. This also shows the impropriety of reckoning any of these a
separate system from the vital.
[26] The bones resemble these, in containing the greatest quantity of
earthy mineral matter.
[27] It is the possession of vessels which constitutes the vitality of
vegetables.
[28] In animals, alone, is nervous matter discoverable.
[29] Plants have no real circulation, nor passage of their nutritive
liquids through the same point.
[30] This arrangement of anatomy and physiology was first published by me
in 1806; and, notwithstanding its being the arrangement of nature, it has
not been adopted by any one that I know of, until very lately, when it was
in some measure used by Dr. Roget, without acknowledgment.
The originality, as well as the truth and value, of this arrangement, will
be illustrated by referring to any other published previous to 1806, or
even to 1808, when I republished it in “Preliminary Lectures,” Edinburgh.
[31] The cause of this has never been explained; and it could not well be
explained, without a perception of the views in my preceding physiological
arrangement.—The brain, at this period, becomes more subservient to
purposes connected with generation; the communication between the trunk
and the head is more frequent, intense, and sustained; and the neck, which
contains the communicating organs, necessarily increases in size. This
unexplained circumstance led to the mistake of the craniologists
respecting the cerebel. Here, therefore, as in other cases pointed out in
my work on Physiognomy, Gall and Spurzheim ascribe to deeper-seated organs
what belongs to more superficial ones.
[32] Appendix F.
[33] Appendix G.
[34] Memoire sur le Beau Physique.
[35] A curious but true remark is made by Moreau, namely, that if these
conditions are met with without being united to a certain expression, and
to the most complete combination of the elements of beauty of countenance,
they frequently give an air of insensibility and of mental weakness, which
greatly enfeebles the impression that a first view had caused.
[36] Statistical results in relation to the supply of hospitals and
prisons, carry the expense of a man much beyond that of a woman.
[37] Appendix H.
[38] Appendix I.
[39] See the causes of this explained in my work on “Physiognomy.”
[40] Pallas—Voyages en Siberie.
[41] Humboldt’s Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain.
[42] It is remarkable that, in infants, the nose is almost always flat,
and that, in some members of the same family, it always remains so, while,
in others, it rises. This is attended by difference of function.
[43] “Physiognomy founded on Physiology, and applied to various Countries,
Professions, and Individuals: with an Appendix on the Bones at Hythe—the
Sculls of the ancient Inhabitants of Britain, and its Invaders:
illustrated by Engravings.”—Smith, Elder, & Co., Cornhill.
[44] Of the best works on this subject, those of Mengs alone, I believe,
have been translated; but the translation is so inaccurate as to be
worthless.
[45] Thus it is not correct, as stated by Leonardo, that when some parts
are broad or thick, all are broad; though, in peculiar combinations, that
may occur.
[46] Lib. II. in Timæum Platonis.
[47] This member of the Royal Academy was suspected of having written that
“republics had done more for the advancement of the fine arts than
monarchies.” The late George III., who did not approve of truths of that
kind, was thereby so much enraged, that he instantly sent for the list of
the members of the academy, and therefrom erased the name of Barry. The
academicians humbly submitted to the indignity which hereditary wisdom
thus inflicted. It would appear, however, that bad principles are
spreading among the Royal academicians; for the works of this expelled
member are now daringly given by them as a prize to students at the
academy!
[48] This rule is well explained, and variously illustrated by Donald
Walker, in his work, equally philosophical, instructive, and amusing,
entitled “Exercises for Ladies,” a knowledge of which, and the practice of
its principles, would render beauty, and especially beauty of the
shoulders and arms, far more common in every family.
[49] It was at the extremity of the modern Cape Crio, anciently Triopium,
a promontory of Doris, a province of Caria, that was built the celebrated
city of Cnidos. Here Venus was worshipped: here was seen this statue of
that goddess, the most beautiful of the works of Praxiteles. A temple, far
from spacious, and open on all sides, contained it, without concealing it
from view; and, in whatever point of view it was examined, it excited
equal admiration. No drapery veiled its charms; and so uncommon was its
beauty, that it inflamed with a violent passion another Pygmalion.
[50] The phrenologists have told us that the head of this Venus is too
small. They might as well have said, that the head of the Minerva, or of
the Jupiter, is too large, or a hundred other ignorant inapplicabilities,
and ridiculous pedantries. But to set aside ideal forms, I may observe,
that sex makes a vast difference in the head, and a woman with a small
head often produces a son with a large one.
[51] This is beautiful, but is evidently borrowed from the great
philosophical poet’s
“Te, Dea, te fugiunt ventei, te nubila coeli,
Adventumque tuum.”
[52] That, in plants, these odors are even necessary to their
reproduction, is proved by their uniform existence at that period. And if
being affected by odors implies a sense of smell, or some modification of
it, then must plants possess it.
[53] In all grossly sensual nations and individuals, the lips are everted
even at the angles.
[54] See this explained in “Physiognomy.”
[55] “Venere suol tenere alquanto aperte le labbra, come per indicare un
languido desiderio ed amore.”—Storia delle Arti.
[56] In the Cupid, the form of the head is godlike. The hair not only
curls with all the vigor of early years, but, with perfect knowledge of
nature’s tendency, is bent into a ridge along the middle of the upper
head. The brow, full, open, and charmingly rounded, is the evident throne
of young observation, and it flows with such beauty into the parts behind,
as if it actually said its purpose was to fling its observations back on
thought and will. Its beginnings at the eyebrows display exquisite
knowledge: the bony ridge is admirably shown to be yet unformed; and while
its outer extremity forms but the orbital convexity, or shell for the
globe of the eye, the inner extremity of the eyebrow is with infinite art
drawn over soft and hollow space, as if the few hairs that composed it
made there its only convexity. In short, in every part of the face, fine
and faint as is every youthful feature, no detail is lost; and this, added
to the pointed chin and upper lip, declare the purpose of the little god.
[57] Appendix K.
[58] I speak not of paint here. It is now used only by meretricious
persons and by those harridans of higher rank who resemble them in every
respect, except that the former are ashamed of their profession, and the
latter advertise it.
[59] Combe’s Phrenology.
[60] Physiologie des Temperamens on Constitutions. Paris, 1826.
[61] This doctrine is revived, Dict. des Sciences med. Delpit and
Reydellet.
[62] Dictionnaire des Sciences Méd. t. xxxviii. p. 263.
Transcriber’s Note: Footnote 6 appears on page 34; however, it has no corresponding marker.