EXTERNAL INDICATIONS; OR ART OF DETERMINING THE PRECISE FIGURE, THE DEGREE
OF BEAUTY, THE MIND, THE HABITS, AND THE AGE OF WOMAN, NOTWITHSTANDING THE
AIDS AND DISGUISES OF DRESS.
_External Indications of Figure._
External indications as to figure are required chiefly as to the limbs
which are concealed by drapery. Such indications are afforded by the walk,
to every careful observer.
In considering _the proportion of the limbs to the body_--if, even in a
young woman, the walk, though otherwise good, be heavy, or the fall on
each foot alternately be sudden, and rather upon the heel, the limbs,
though well formed, will be found to be slender, compared with the body.
This conformation accompanies any great proportional development of the
vital system; and it is frequently observable in the women of the Saxon
population of England, as in the counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, &c.
In women of this conformation, moreover, the slightest indisposition or
debility is indicated by a slight vibration of the shoulders, and upper
part of the chest, at every step, in walking.
In considering _the line or direction of the limbs_--if, viewed behind,
the feet, at every step, are thrown out backward, and somewhat laterally,
the knees are certainly much inclined inward.
If, viewed in front, the dress, at every step, is as it were, gathered
toward the front, and then tossed more or less to the opposite side, the
knees are certainly too much inclined.
In considering _the relative size of each portion of the limbs_--if, in
the walk, there be a greater or less approach to the marching pace, the
hip is large; for we naturally employ the joint which is surrounded with
the most powerful muscles, and, in any approach to the march, it is the
hip-joint which is used, and the knee and ankle-joints which remain
proportionally unemployed.
If, in the walk, the tripping pace be used, as in an approach to walking
on tiptoes, the calf is large; for it is only by the power of its muscles
that, under the weight of the whole body, the foot can be extended for
this purpose.
If, in the walk, the foot be raised in a slovenly manner, and the heel be
seen, at each step, to lift the bottom of the dress upward and backward,
neither the hip nor the calf is well developed.
Even with regard to the parts of the figure which are more exposed to
observation by the closer adaptation of dress, much deception occurs. It
is, therefore, necessary to understand the arts employed for this purpose,
at least by skilful women.
A person having a narrow face, wears a bonnet with wide front, exposing
the lower part of the cheeks.--One having a broad face, wears a closer
front; and, if the jaw be wide, it is in appearance diminished, by
bringing the corners of the bonnet sloping to the point of the chin.
A person having a long neck has the neck of the bonnet descending, the
neck of the dress rising, and filling more or less of the intermediate
space. One having a short neck has the whole bonnet short and close in the
perpendicular direction, and the neck of the dress neither high nor wide.
Persons with narrow shoulders have the shoulders or epaulets of the dress
formed on the outer edge of the natural shoulder, very full, and both the
bosom and back of the dress running in oblique folds, from the point of
the shoulder to the middle of the bust.
Persons with waists too large, render them less before by a stomacher, or
something equivalent, and behind by a corresponding form of the dress,
making the top of the dress smooth across the shoulders, and drawing it in
plaits to a narrow point at the bottom of the waist.
Those who have the bosom too small, enlarge it by the oblique folds of the
dress being gathered above, and by other means.
Those who have the lower posterior part of the body too flat, elevate it
by the top of the skirt being gathered behind, and by other less skilful
adjustments, which though hid, are easily detected.
Those who have the lower part of the body too prominent anteriorly,
render it less apparent by shortening the waist, by a corresponding
projection behind, and by increasing the bosom above.
Those who have the haunches too narrow, take care not to have the bottom
of the dress too wide.
Tall women have a wide skirt, or several flounces, or both of these:
shorter women, a moderate one, but as long as can be conveniently worn,
with the flounces, &c., as low as possible.[57]
_External Indications of Beauty._
Additional indications as to beauty are required chiefly where the woman
observed precedes the observer, and may, by her figure, naturally and
reasonably excite his interest, while at the same time it would be rude to
turn and look in her face on passing.
There can, therefore, be no impropriety in observing, that the conduct of
those who may happen to meet the woman thus preceding, will differ
according to the sex of the person who meets her.--If the person meeting
her be a man, and the lady observed be beautiful, he will not only look
with an expression of pleasure at her countenance, but will afterward turn
more or less completely to survey her from behind.--If the person meeting
her be a woman, the case becomes more complex. If both be either ugly or
beautiful, or if the person meeting her be beautiful and the lady observed
be ugly, then it is probable, that the approaching person may pass by
inattentively, casting merely an indifferent glance: if, on the contrary,
the woman meeting her be ugly, and the lady observed be beautiful, then
the former will examine the latter with the severest scrutiny, and if she
sees features and shape without defect, she will instantly fix her eyes on
the head-dress or gown, in order to find some object for censure of the
beautiful woman, and for consolation in her own ugliness.
Thus he who happens to follow a female may be aided in determining whether
it is worth his while to glance at her face in passing, or to devise other
means of seeing it.
Even when the face is seen, as in meeting in the streets or elsewhere,
infinite deception occurs as to the degree of beauty. This operates so
powerfully, that a correct estimate of beauty is perhaps never formed at
first. This depends on the forms and still more on the colors of dress in
relation to the face. For this reason, it is necessary to understand the
principles according to which colors are employed at least by skilful
women.[58]
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much yellow, then yellow
around the face is used to remove it by contrast, and to cause the red and
blue to predominate.
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much red, then red around
the face is used to remove it by contrast, and to cause the yellow and
blue to predominate.
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much blue, then blue around
the face is used to remove it by contrast, and to cause the yellow and red
to predominate.
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much yellow and red, then
orange is used.
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much red and blue, then
purple is used.
When it is the fault of a face to contain too much blue and yellow, then
green is used.
It is necessary to observe that the linings of bonnets reflect their color
on the face, and transparent bonnets transmit that color, and equally
tinge it. In both these cases, the color employed is no longer that which
is placed around the face, and which acts on it by contrast, but the
opposite. As green around the face heightens a faint red in the cheeks by
contrast, so the pink lining of the bonnet aids it by reflection.
Hence linings which reflect, are generally of the teint which is wanted in
the face; and care is then taken that these linings do not come into the
direct view of the observer, and operate prejudicially on the face by
contrast, overpowering the little color which by reflection they should
heighten. The fronts of bonnets so lined, therefore, do not widen greatly
forward, and bring their color into contrast.
When bonnets do widen, the proper contrast is used as a lining; but then
it has not a surface much adapted for reflection, otherwise it may
perform that office, and injure the complexion.
Understanding, then, the application of these colors in a general way, it
may be noticed, that fair faces are by contrast best acted on by light
colors, and dark faces by darker colors.
Dark faces are best affected by darker colors, evidently because they tend
to render the complexion fairer; and fair faces do not require dark
colors, because the opposition would be too strong.
Objects which constitute a background to the face, or which, on the
contrary, reflect their hues upon it, always either improve or injure the
complexion. For this and some other reasons, many persons look better at
home in their apartments than in the streets. Apartments may, indeed, be
peculiarly calculated to improve individual complexions.
_External Indications of Mind._
External indications as to mind may be derived from figure, from gait, and
from dress.
As to figure, a certain symmetry or disproportion of parts (either of
which depends immediately upon the locomotive system)--or a certain
softness or hardness of form (which belongs exclusively to the vital
system)--or a certain delicacy or coarseness of outline (which belongs
exclusively to the mental system)--these reciprocally denote a locomotive
symmetry or disproportion--or a vital softness or hardness--or a mental
delicacy or coarseness, which will be found also indicated by the
features of the face.
These qualities are marked in pairs, as each belonging to its respective
system; for, without this, there can be no accurate or useful observation.
As to gait, that progression which advances, unmodified by any lateral
movement of the body, or any perpendicular rising of the head, and which
belongs exclusively to the locomotive system--or that soft lateral rolling
of the body, which belongs exclusively to the vital system--or that
perpendicular rising or falling of the head at every impulse to step,
which belongs exclusively to the mental system--these reciprocally
indicate a corresponding locomotive, or vital, or mental character, which
will be found also indicated by the features of the face.
To put to the test the utility of these elements of observation and
indication, let us take a few instances.--If, in any individual,
locomotive symmetry of figure is combined with direct and linear gait, a
character of mind and countenance not absolutely repulsive, but cold and
insipid, is indicated.--If vital softness of figure is combined, with a
gentle lateral rolling of the body in its gait, voluptuous character and
expression of countenance are indicated.--If delicacy of outline in the
figure, be combined with perpendicular rising of the head, levity, perhaps
vanity, is indicated.--But there are innumerable combinations and
modifications of the elements which we have just described. Expressions
of pride, determination, obstinacy, &c., are all observable.
The gait, however, is often formed, in a great measure, by local or other
circumstances, by which it is necessary that the observer should avoid
being misled.
Dress, as affording indications, though less to be relied on than the
preceding, is not without its value. The woman who possesses a cultivated
taste, and a corresponding expression of countenance, will generally be
tastefully dressed; and the vulgar woman, with features correspondingly
rude, will easily be seen through the inappropriate mask in which her
milliner or dressmaker may have invested her.
_External Indications of Habits._
External indications as to the personal habits of women are both numerous
and interesting.
The habit of child-bearing is indicated by a flatter breast, a broader
back, and thicker cartilages of the bones of the pubis, necessary widening
the pelvis.
The same habit is also indicated by a high rise of the nape of the neck,
so that the neck from that point bends considerably forward, and by an
elevation which is diffused between the neck and shoulders. These all
arise from temporary distensions of the trunk in women whose secretions
are powerful, from the habit of throwing the shoulders backward during
pregnancy, and the head again forward, to balance the abdominal weight;
and they bestow a character of vitality peculiarly expressive.
The same habit is likewise indicated by an excess of that lateral rolling
of the body in walking, which was already described as connected with
voluptuous character. This is a very certain indication, as it arises from
temporary distensions of the pelvis, which nothing else can occasion. As
in consequence of this lateral rolling of the body, and of the weight of
the body being much thrown forward in gestation, the toes are turned
somewhat inward, they aid in the indication.
The habit of nursing children is indicated, both in mothers and
nursery-maids, by the right shoulder being larger and more elevated than
the left.
The habits of the seamstress are indicated by the neck suddenly bending
forward, and the arms being, even in walking, considerably bent forward or
folded more or less upward from the elbows.
Habits of labor are indicated by a considerable thickness of the shoulders
below, where they form an angle with the inner part of the arm; and, where
these habits are of the lowest menial kind, the elbows are turned outward
and the palms of the hands backward.
The habits of many of the inferior female professions might easily be
indicated; but they would be unsuitable to a work like this.
_External Indications of Age._
External indications of age are required chiefly where the face is veiled,
or where the woman observed precedes the observer and may reasonably
excite his interest.
In either of these cases, if the foot and ankle have lost a certain
moderate plumpness, and assumed a certain sinewy or bony appearance, the
woman has generally passed the period of youth.
If in walking, instead of the ball or outer edge of the foot first
striking the ground, it is the heel which does so, then has the woman in
general passed the meridian of life.--Unlike the last indication, this is
apparent, however the foot and ankle may be clothed.--The reason of this
indication is the decrease of power which unfits the muscles to receive
the weight of the body by maintaining the extension of the ankle-joint.
Exceptions to this last indication are to be found chiefly in women in
whom the developments of the body are proportionally much greater, either
from a temporary or a permanent cause, than those of the limbs, the
muscles of which are consequently incapable of receiving the weight of the
body by maintaining the extension of the ankle-joint.
APPENDIX
APPENDIX.
A.
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.
B.
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.
C.
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 [Greek: KALOS].
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!"
D.
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 ([Illustration]), 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_.