_Of ACTION_.
1. _A new method of acquiring an easy and
graceful movement of the hand and arms_.
2. _Of the head, &c._
3. _Of dancing, particularly the minuet_.
4. _Of country-dancing, and, lastly, of
stage-action_. 138
_Prints Publish'd by_ W. HOGARTH.
FIGURES _referr'd to in the_ BOOK.
ERRATA.
[Transcriber's note: Hogarth's corrections are now incorporated within
the text.]
INTRODUCTION.
I now offer to the public a short essay, accompanied with two
explanatory prints, in which I shall endeavour to shew what the
principles are in nature, by which we are directed to call the forms
of some bodies beautiful, others ugly; some graceful, and others the
reverse; by considering more minutely than has hitherto been done, the
nature of those lines, and their different combinations, which serve
to raise in the mind the ideas of all the variety of forms imaginable.
At first, perhaps, the whole design, as well as the prints, may seem
rather intended to trifle and confound, than to entertain and inform:
but I am persuaded that when the examples in nature, referr'd to in
this essay, are duly consider'd and examined upon the principles laid
down in it, it will be thought worthy of a careful and attentive
perusal: and the prints themselves too will, I make no doubt, be
examined as attentively, when it is found, that almost every figure in
them (how odly soever they may seem to be group'd together) is referr'd
to singly in the essay, in order to assist the reader's imagination,
when the original examples in art, or nature, are not themselves before
him.
And in this light I hope my prints will be consider'd, and that the
figures referr'd to in them will never be imagined to be placed there
by me as examples themselves, of beauty or grace, but only to point out
to the reader what sorts of objects he is to look for and examine in
nature, or in the works of the greatest masters. My figures, therefore,
are to be consider'd in the same light, with those a mathematician
makes with his pen, which may convey the idea of his demonstration,
tho' not a line in them is either perfectly straight, or of that
peculiar curvature he is treating of. Nay, so far was I from aiming at
grace, that I purposely chose to be least accurate, where most beauty
might be expected, that no stress might be laid on the figures to the
prejudice of the work itself. For I must confess, I have but little
hopes of having a favourable attention given to my design in general,
by those who have already had a more fashionable introduction into
the mysteries of the arts of painting, and sculpture. Much less do I
expect, or in truth desire, the countenance of that set of people, who
have an interest in exploding any kind of doctrine, that may teach us
to _see with our own eyes_.
It may be needless to observe, that some of the last-mention'd, are
not only the dependents on, but often the only instructors and leaders
of the former; but in what light they are so consider'd abroad, may
be partly seen by [Fig. 1 T p. I] a burlesque representation of them,
taken from a print publish'd by Mr. Pond, design'd by Cavr. Ghezzi at
Rome.
[Illustration: Fig. 1]
To those, then, whose judgments are unprejudiced, this little work
is submitted with most pleasure; because it is from such that I have
hitherto received the most obligations, and now have reason to expect
most candour.
Therefore I would fain have such of my readers be assured, that
however they may have been aw'd, and over-born by pompous terms of
art, hard names, and the parade of seemingly magnificent collections
of pictures and statues; they are in a much fairer way, ladies, as
well as gentlemen, of gaining a perfect knowledge of the elegant and
beautiful in artificial, as well as natural forms, by considering them
in a systematical, but at the same time familiar way, than those who
have been prepossess'd by dogmatic rules, taken from the performances
of art only: nay, I will venture to say, sooner, and more rationally,
than even a tolerable painter, who has imbibed the same prejudices.
The more prevailing the notion may be, that painters and connoisseurs
are the only competent judges of things of this sort; the more it
becomes necessary to clear up and confirm, as much as possible, what
has only been asserted in the foregoing paragraph: that no one may be
deterr'd, by the want of such previous knowledge, from entring into
this enquiry.
The reason why gentlemen, who have been inquisitive after knowledge in
pictures, have their eyes less qualified for our purpose, than others,
is because their thoughts have been entirely and continually employ'd
and incumber'd with considering and retaining the various _manners_ in
which pictures are painted, the histories, names, and characters of the
masters, together with many other little circumstances belonging to the
mechanical part of the art; and little or no time has been given for
perfecting the ideas they ought to have in their minds, of the objects
themselves in nature: for by having thus espoused and adopted their
first notions from nothing but _imitations_, and becoming too often
as bigotted to their faults, as their beauties, they at length, in a
manner, totally neglect, or at least disregard the works of nature,
merely because they do not tally with what their minds are so strongly
prepossess'd with.
Were not this a true state of the case, many a reputed capital picture,
that now adorns the cabinets of the curious in all countries, would
long ago have been committed to the flames: nor would it have been
possible for the Venus and Cupid, represented by the figure [under Fig.
49 T p. I], to have made its way into the principal apartment of a
palace.
[Illustration: Fig. under Fig. 49]
It is also evident that the painter's eye may not be a bit better
fitted to receive these new impressions, who is in like manner too
much captivated with the works of art; for he also is apt to pursue
the shadow, and drop the substance. This mistake happens chiefly to
those who go to Rome for the accomplishment of their studies; as they
naturally will, without the utmost care, take the infectious turn of
the connoisseur, instead of the painter: and in proportion as they
turn by those means bad proficients in their own arts, they become the
more considerable in that of a connoisseur. As a confirmation of this
seeming paradox, it has ever been observ'd at all auctions of pictures,
that the very worst painters sit as the most profound judges, and are
trusted only, I suppose, on account of their _disinterestedness_.
I apprehend a good deal of this will look more like resentment, and a
design to invalidate the objections of such as are not likely to set
the faults of this work in the most favourable light; than merely for
the encouragement, as was said above, of such of my readers, as are
neither painters, nor connoisseurs: and I will be ingenuous enough to
confess something of this may be true; but, at the same time, I cannot
allow that this alone would have been a sufficient motive to have made
me risk giving offence to any; had not another consideration, besides
that already alledg'd, of more consequence to the purpose in hand, made
it necessary. I mean the setting forth, in the strongest colours, the
alterations objects seemingly undergo through the prepossessions and
prejudices contracted by the mind.----Fallacies, strongly to be guarded
against by such as would learn to see objects truly!
Altho' the instances already given are pretty flagrant, yet it is
certainly true, (as a farther confirmation of this, and for the
consolation of those, who may be a little piqued at what has been said)
that painters of every condition are stronger instances of the almost
unavoidable power of prejudice, than any people whatever.
What are all the _manners_, as they are call'd, of even the greatest
masters, which are known to differ so much from one another, and all
of them from nature, but so many strong proofs of their inviolable
attachment to falshood, converted into establish'd truth in their own
eyes, by self-opinion? Rubens would, in all probability, have been
as much disgusted at the dry manner of Poussin, as Poussin was at
the extravagant of Rubens. The prejudices of inferior proficients in
favour of the imperfections of their own performances, is still more
amazing.----Their eyes are so quick in discerning the faults of others,
at the same time they are so totally blind to their own! Indeed it
would be well for us all, if one of Gulliver's flappers could be placed
at our elbows to remind us at every stroke how much prejudice and
self-opinion perverts our sight.
From what has been said, I hope it appears that those, who have no
bias of any kind, either from their own practice, or the lessons of
others, are fittest to examine into the truth of the principles laid
down in the following pages. But as every one may not have had an
opportunity of being sufficiently acquainted with the instances, that
have been given: I will offer one of a familiar kind, which may be a
hint for their observing a thousand more. How gradually does the eye
grow reconciled even to a disagreeable dress, as it becomes more and
more the fashion, and how soon return to its dislike of it, when it is
left off, and a new one has taken possession of the mind?--so vague is
taste, when it has no solid principles for its foundation!
Notwithstanding I have told you my design of considering minutely the
variety of lines, which serve to raise the ideas of bodies in the mind,
and which are undoubtedly to be consider'd as drawn on the surfaces
only of solid or opake bodies: yet the endeavouring to conceive, as
accurate an idea as is possible, of the _inside_ of those surfaces, if
I may be allow'd the expression, will be a great assistance to us in
the pursuance of our present enquiry.
In order to my being well understood, let every object under our
consideration, be imagined to have its inward contents scoop'd out
so nicely, as to have nothing of it left but a thin shell, exactly
corresponding both in its inner and outer surface, to the shape of
the object itself: and let us likewise suppose this thin shell to be
made up of very fine threads, closely connected together, and equally
perceptible, whether the eye is supposed to observe them from without,
or within; and we shall find the ideas of the two surfaces of this
shell will naturally coincide. The very word, shell, makes us seem to
see both surfaces alike.
The use of this conceit, as it may be call'd by some, will be seen to
be very great, in the process of this work: and the oftner we think of
objects in this shell-like manner, we shall facilitate and strengthen
our conception of any particular part of the surface of an object we
are viewing, by acquiring thereby a more perfect knowledge of the
whole, to which it belongs: because the imagination will naturally
enter into the vacant space within this shell, and there at once,
as from a center, view the whole form within, and mark the opposite
corresponding parts so strongly, as to retain the idea of the whole,
and make us masters of the meaning of every view of the object, as we
walk round it, and view it from without.
Thus the most perfect idea we can possibly acquire of a sphere, is
by conceiving an infinite number of straight rays of equal lengths,
issuing from the center, as from the eye, spreading every way alike;
and circumscribed or wound about at their other extremities with close
connected circular threads, or lines, forming a true spherical shell.
But in the common way of taking the view of any opake object, that
part of its surface, which fronts the eye, is apt to occupy the mind
alone, and the opposite, nay even every other part of it whatever,
is left unthought of at that time: and the least motion we make to
reconnoitre any other side of the object, confounds our first idea, for
want of the connexion of the two ideas, which the complete knowledge of
the whole would naturally have given us, if we had considered it in the
other way before.
Another advantage of considering objects thus merely as shells
composed of lines, is, that by these means we obtain the true and full
idea of what is call'd the _out-lines_ of a figure, which has been
confin'd within too narrow limits, by taking it only from drawings
on paper; for in the example of the sphere given above, every one of
the imaginary circular threads has a right to be consider'd as an
out-line of the sphere, as well as those which divide the half, that
is seen, from that which is not seen; and if the eye be supposed to
move regularly round it, these threads will each of them as regularly
succeed one another in the office of out-lines, (in the narrow and
limited sense of the word:) and the instant any one of these threads,
during this motion of the eye, comes into sight on one side, its
opposite thread is lost, and disappears on the other. He who will thus
take the pains of acquiring perfect ideas of the distances, bearings,
and oppositions of several material points and lines in the surfaces of
even the most irregular figures, will gradually arrive at the knack of
recalling them into his mind when the objects themselves are not before
him: and they will be as strong and perfect as those of the most plain
and regular forms, such as cubes and spheres; and will be of infinite
service to those who invent and draw from fancy, as well as enable
those to be more correct who draw from the life.
In this manner, therefore, I would desire the reader to assist his
imagination as much as possible, in considering every object, as if
his eye were placed within it. As straight lines are easily conceiv'd,
the difficulty of following this method in the most simple and regular
forms will be less than may be first imagined; and its use in the more
compounded will be greater: as will be more fully shewn when we come to
speak of composition.
But as [Fig. 2 L p. I] may be of singular use to young designers in
the study of the human form, the most complex and beautiful of all, in
shewing them a mechanical way of gaining the opposite points in its
surface, which never can be seen in one and the same view; it will be
proper to explain the design of it in this place, as it may at the same
time add some weight to what has been already said.
[Illustration: Fig. 2]
It represents the trunk of a figure cast in soft wax, with one wire
pass'd perpendicularly through its center, another perpendicularly to
the first, going in before and coming out in the middle of the back,
and as many more as may be thought necessary, parallel to and at equal
distances from these, and each other; as is mark'd by the several
dots in the figure.--Let these wires be so loose as to be taken out
at pleasure, but not before all the parts of them, which appear out
of the wax, are carefully painted close up to the wax, of a different
colour from those, that lie within it. By these means the horizontal
and perpendicular _contents_ of these parts of the body (by which I
mean the distances of opposite points in the surface of these parts)
through which the wires have pass'd, may be exactly known and compared
with each other; and the little holes, where the wires have pierced the
wax, remaining on its surface, will mark out the corresponding opposite
points on the external muscles of the body; as well as assist and guide
us to a readier conception of all the intervening parts. These points
may be mark'd upon a marble figure with calibers properly used.
The known method, many years made use of, for the more exactly and
expeditiously reducing drawings from large pictures, for engravings; or
for enlarging designs, for painting cielings and cupolas, (by striking
lines perpendicular to each other, so as to make an equal number of
squares on the paper design'd for the copy, that hath been first made
on the original; by which means, the situation of every part of the
picture is mechanically seen, and easily transferred) may truly be said
to be somewhat of the same kind with what has been here proposed, but
that one is done upon a flat surface, the other upon a solid; and that
the new scheme differs in its application, and may be of a much more
useful and extensive nature than the old one.
But it is time now to have done with the introduction: and I shall
proceed to consider the fundamental principles, which are generally
allowed to give elegance and beauty, when duly blended together, to
compositions of all kinds whatever; and point out to my readers, the
particular force of each, in those compositions in nature and art,
which seem most to _please and entertain the eye_, and give that grace
and beauty, which is the subject of this enquiry. The principles I
mean, are FITNESS, VARIETY, UNIFORMITY, SIMPLICITY, INTRICACY and
QUANTITY;----_all which co-operate in the production of beauty,
mutually correcting and restraining each other occasionally_.
CHAPTER I.
_Of FITNESS_.
Fitness of the parts to the design for which every individual thing
is form'd, either by art or nature, is first to be consider'd, as it
is of the greatest consequence to the beauty of the whole. This is so
evident, that even the sense of seeing, the great inlet of beauty,
is itself so strongly bias'd by it, that if the mind, on account of
this kind of value in a form, esteem it beautiful, tho' on all other
considerations it be not so; the eye grows insensible of its want of
beauty, and even begins to be pleas'd, especially after it has been a
considerable time acquainted with it.
It is well known on the other hand, that forms of great elegance often
disgust the eye by being improperly applied. Thus, twisted columns are
undoubtedly ornamental; but as they convey an idea of weakness, they
always displease, when they are improperly made use of as supports to
any thing that is bulky, or appears heavy.
The bulks and proportions of objects are govern'd by fitness and
propriety. It is this that has establish'd the size and proportion of
chairs, tables, and all sorts of utensils and furniture. It is this
that has fix'd the dimensions of pillars, arches, &c. for the support
of great weight, and so regulated all the orders in architecture, as
well as the sizes of windows and doors, &c. Thus though a building were
ever so large, the steps of the stairs, the seats in the windows must
be continued of their usual heights, or they would lose their beauty
with their fitness: and in ship-building the dimensions of every part
are confin'd and regulated by fitness for sailing. When a vessel sails
well, the sailors always call her a beauty; the two ideas have such a
connexion!
The general dimensions of the parts of the human body are adapted thus
to the uses they are design'd for. The trunk is the most capacious on
account of the quantity of its contents, and the thigh is larger than
the leg, because it has both the leg and foot to move, the leg only the
foot, &c.
Fitness of parts also constitutes and distinguishes in a great measure
the characteristics of objects; as for example, the race-horse differs
as much in quality, or character, from the war-horse, as to its figure,
as the Hercules from the Mercury.
The race-horse, having all its parts of such dimensions as best fit the
purposes of speed, acquires on that account a consistent character of
one sort of beauty. To illustrate this, suppose the beautiful head and
gracefully-turn'd neck of the war-horse were placed on the shoulders
of the race-horse, instead of his own aukward straight one: it would
disgust, and deform, instead of adding beauty; because the judgment
would condemn it as unfit.
[Illustration: Fig. 3]
The Hercules, by Glicon [Fig. 3 p. I], hath all its parts finely fitted
for the purposes of the utmost strength, the texture of the human form
will bear. The back, breast and shoulders have huge bones, and muscles
adequate to the supposed active strength of its upper parts; but as
less strength was required for the lower parts, the judicious sculptor,
contrary to all modern rule of enlarging every part in proportion,
lessen'd the size of the muscles gradually down towards the feet; and
for the same reason made the neck larger in circumference than any
part of the head [Fig. 4 p. I]; otherwise the figure would have been
burden'd with an unnecessary weight, which would have been a draw-back
from his strength, and in consequence of that, from its characteristic
beauty.
[Illustration: Fig. 4]
These seeming faults, which shew the superior anatomical knowledge as
well as judgment of the ancients, are not to be found in the leaden
imitations of it near Hyde-park. These saturnine genius's imagin'd they
knew how to correct such apparent _disproportions_.
These few examples may be sufficient to give an idea of what I mean
(and would have understood) by the beauty of fitness, or propriety.
CHAPTER II.
_Of VARIETY_.
How great a share variety has in producing beauty may be seen in the
ornamental part of nature.
The shapes and colours of plants, flowers, leaves, the paintings in
butterflies wings, shells, &c. seem of little other intended use, than
that of entertaining the eye with the pleasure of variety.
All the senses delight in it, and equally are averse to sameness. The
ear is as much offended with one even continued note, as the eye is
with being fix'd to a point, or to the view of a dead wall.
Yet when the eye is glutted with a succession of variety, it finds
relief in a certain degree of sameness; and even plain space becomes
agreeable, and properly introduced, and contrasted with variety, adds
to it more variety.
I mean here, and every where indeed, a composed variety; for variety
uncomposed, and without design, is confusion and deformity.
Observe, that a gradual lessening is a kind of varying that gives
beauty. The pyramid diminishing from its basis to its point, and the
scroll or voluta, gradually lessening to its center, are beautiful
forms. So also objects that only seem to do so, though in fact they do
not, have equal beauty: thus perspective views, and particularly those
of buildings, are always pleasing to the eye.
The little ship, between figure 47 and 88 [p. I], suppos'd moving
along the shore even with the eye, might have its top and bottom
bounded by two lines at equal distances all the way, as A; but if the
ship puts out to sea, these lines at top and bottom would seem to
vary and meet each other by degrees, as B, in the point C, which is
in the line where the sky and water meets, call'd the horizon. Thus
much of the manner of perspectives adding beauty, by seemingly varying
otherwise unvaried forms, I thought, might be acceptable to those, who
have not learnt perspective.
[Illustration: Fig. between Figs. 47 and 88]
CHAPTER III.
_Of UNIFORMITY, REGULARITY, or SYMMETRY_.
It may be imagined that the greatest part of the effects of beauty
results from the symmetry of parts in the object, which is beautiful:
but I am very well persuaded, this prevailing notion will soon appear
to have little or no foundation.
It may indeed have properties of greater consequence, such as
propriety, fitness, and use; and yet but little serve the purposes of
pleasing the eye, merely on the score of beauty.
We have, indeed, in our nature a love of imitation from our infancy,
and the eye is often entertained, as well as surprised, with mimicry,
and delighted with the exactness of counterparts: but then this always
gives way to its superior love of variety, and soon grows tiresom.
If the uniformity of figures, parts, or lines were truly the chief
cause of beauty, the more exactly uniform their appearances were kept,
the more pleasure the eye would receive: but this is so far from being
the case, that when the mind has been once satisfied, that the parts
answer one another, with so exact an uniformity, as to preserve to the
whole the character of fitness to stand, to move, to sink, to swim, to
fly, &c. without losing the balance: the eye is rejoiced to see the
object turn'd, and shifted, so as to vary these uniform appearances.
Thus the profile of most objects, as well as faces, are rather more
pleasing than their full fronts.
Whence it is clear, the pleasure does not arise from seeing the exact
resemblance, which one side bears the other, but from the knowledge
that they do so on account of fitness, with design, and for use. For
when the head of a fine woman is turn'd a little to one side, which
takes off from the exact similarity of the two halves of the face,
and somewhat reclining, so varying still more from the straight and
parallel lines of a formal front face: it is always look'd upon as most
pleasing. This is accordingly said to be a graceful air of the head.
It is a constant rule in composition in painting to avoid regularity.
When we view a building, or any other object in life, we have it in our
power, by shifting the ground, to take that view of it which pleases
us best; and in consequence of this, the painter if he is left to his
choice, takes it on the angle rather than in front, as most agreeable
to the eye; because the regularity of the lines is taken away by their
running into perspective, without losing the idea of fitness: and when
he is of necessity obliged to give the front of a building, with all
its equalities and parallelisms, he generally breaks (as it is term'd)
such disagreeable appearances, by throwing a tree before it, or the
shadow of an imaginary cloud, or some other object that may answer the
same purpose of adding variety, which is the same with taking away
uniformity.
If uniform objects were agreeable, why is there such care taken to
contrast, and vary all the limbs of a statue?
[Illustration: Figs. 72, 6 and 7]
The picture of Henry the Eighth [Fig. 72 p. II], would be preferable to
the finely contrasted figures of Guido or Correggio; and the Antinous's
easy sway [Fig. 6 p. I], must submit to the stiff and straight figure
of the dancing-master [Fig. 7 p. I]; and the uniform out-lines of the
muscles in the figure [Fig. 55 p. I] taken from Albert Durer's book of
proportions, would have more taste in them than those in the famous
part of an antique figure [Fig. 54 p. I] from which Michael Angelo
acquired so much of his skill in grace.
[Illustration: Figs. 55 and 54]
In short, whatever appears to be fit, and proper to answer great
purposes, ever satisfies the mind, and pleases on that account.
Uniformity is of this kind. We find it necessary, in some degree, to
give the idea of rest and motion, without the possibility of falling.
But when any such purposes can be as well effected by more irregular
parts, the eye is always better pleased on the account of variety.
How pleasingly is the idea of firmness in standing convey'd to the eye
by the three elegant claws of a table, the three feet of a tea-lamp, or
the celebrated tripod of the ancients?
Thus you see regularity, uniformity, or symmetry, please only as they
serve to give the idea of fitness.
CHAPTER IV.
_Of SIMPLICITY, or DISTINCTNESS_.
Simplicity, without variety, is wholly insipid, and at best does only
not displease; but when variety is join'd to it, then it pleases,
because it enhances the pleasure of variety, by giving the eye the
power of enjoying it with ease.
There is no object composed of straight lines, that has so much
variety, with so few parts, as the pyramid: and it is its constantly
varying from its base gradually upwards in every situation of the eye,
(without giving the idea of sameness, as the eye moves round it) that
has made it been esteem'd in all ages, in preference to the cone, which
in all views appears nearly the same, being varied only by light and
shade.
Steeples, monuments, and most compositions in painting and sculpture,
are kept within the form of the cone or pyramid, as the most eligible
boundary on account of their simplicity and variety. For the same
reason equestrian statues please more than the single figures.
The authors (for there were three concern'd in the work) of as fine
a group of figures in sculpture, as ever was made, either by ancients
or moderns, (I mean Laocoon and his two sons) chose to be guilty of
the absurdity of making the sons of half the father's size, tho' they
have every other mark of being design'd for men, rather than not bring
their composition within the boundary of a pyramid [Fig. 9 T p. I].
Thus if a judicious workman were employ'd to make a case of wood, for
preserving it from the injuries of the weather, or for the convenience
of carriage; he would soon find by his eye, the whole composition would
readily fit and be easily pack'd up, in one of a pyramidal form.
[Illustration: Fig. 9]
Steeples, &c. have generally been varied from the cone, to take
off from their too great simplicity, and instead of their circular
bases, polygons of different, but even numbers of sides, have been
substituted, I suppose for the sake of uniformity. These forms however
may be said to have been chosen by the architect, with a view to the
cone, as the whole compositions might be bounded by it.
Yet, in my mind, odd numbers have the advantage over the even ones,
as variety is more pleasing than uniformity, where the same end
is answer'd by both; as in this case, where both polygons may be
circumscrib'd by the same circle, or in other words, both compositions
bounded by the same cone.
And I can't help observing, that nature in all her works of fancy, if
I may be allow'd the expression, where it seems immaterial whether even
or odd numbers of divisions were prefer'd, most frequently employs the
odd; as for example, in the indenting of leaves, flowers, blossoms, &c.
The oval also, on account of its variety with simplicity, is as much
to be prefer'd to the circle, as the triangle to the square, or the
pyramid to the cube; and this figure lessen'd at one end, like the egg,
thereby being more varied, is singled out by the author of all variety,
to bound the features of a beautiful face.
[Illustration: Fig. 10]
When the oval has a little more of the cone added to it than the egg
has, it becomes more distinctly a compound of those two most simple
varied figures. This is the shape of the pine-apple [Fig. 10 T p. I],
which nature has particularly distinguish'd by bestowing ornaments of
rich mosaic upon it, composed of contrasted serpentine lines, and the
pips [Fig. 11 T p. I], as the gardiners call them, are still varied by
two cavities and one round eminence in each.
[Illustration: Fig. 11]
Could a more elegant simple form than this have been found; it is
probable that judicious architect, Sir Christopher Wren, would not
have chosen the pine-apples for the two terminations of the sides
of the front of St. Paul's: and perhaps the globe and cross, tho' a
finely varied figure, which terminates the dome, would not have had
the preference of situation, if a religious motive had not been the
occasion.
Thus we see simplicity gives beauty even to variety, as it makes it
more easily understood, and should be ever studied in the works of art,
as it serves to prevent perplexity in forms of elegance; as will be
shewn in the next chapter.
CHAPTER V.
_Of INTRICACY_.
The active mind is ever bent to be employ'd. Pursuing is the business
of our lives; and even abstracted from any other view, gives pleasure.
Every arising difficulty, that for a while attends and interrupts the
pursuit, gives a sort of spring to the mind, enhances the pleasure, and
makes what would else be toil and labour, become sport and recreation.
Wherein would consist the joys of hunting, shooting, fishing, and
many other favourite diversions, without the frequent turns and
difficulties, and disappointments, that are daily met with in the
pursuit?--how joyless does the sportsman return when the hare has not
had fair play? how lively, and in spirits, even when an old cunning one
has baffled, and out-run the dogs!
This love of pursuit, merely as pursuit, is implanted in our natures,
and design'd, no doubt, for necessary, and useful purposes. Animals
have it evidently by instinct. The hound dislikes the game he so
eagerly pursues; and even cats will risk the losing of their prey to
chase it over again. It is a pleasing labour of the mind to solve the
most difficult problems; allegories and riddles, trifling as they are,
afford the mind amusement: and with what delight does it follow the
well-connected thread of a play, or novel, which ever increases as the
plot thickens, and ends most pleas'd, when that is most distinctly
unravell'd?
The eye hath this sort of enjoyment in winding walks, and serpentine
rivers, and all sorts of objects, whose forms, as we shall see
hereafter, are composed principally of what, I call, the _waving_ and
_serpentine_ lines.
Intricacy in form, therefore, I shall define to be that peculiarity
in the lines, which compose it, that _leads the eye a wanton kind of
chace_, and from the pleasure that gives the mind, intitles it to the
name of beautiful: and it may be justly said, that the cause of the
idea of grace more immediately resides in this principle, than in the
other five, except variety; which indeed includes this, and all the
others.
That this observation may appear to have a real foundation in nature,
every help will be requir'd, which the reader himself can call to his
assistance, as well as what will here be suggested to him.
To set this matter in somewhat a clearer light, the familiar instance
of a common jack, with a circular fly, may serve our purpose better
than a more elegant form: preparatory to which, let the figure [Fig. 14
T p. I] be consider'd, which represents the eye, at a common reading
distance viewing a row of letters, but fix'd with most attention to the
middle letter A.
[Illustration: Fig. 14]
Now as we read, a ray may be supposed to be drawn from the center of
the eye to that letter it looks at first, and to move successively with
it from letter to letter, the whole length of the line: but if the eye
stops at any particular letter, A, to observe it more than the rest,
these other letters will grow more and more imperfect to the sight, the
farther they are situated on either side of A, as is express'd in the
figure: and when we endeavour to see all the letters in a line equally
perfect at one view, as it were, this imaginary ray must course it to
and fro with great celerity. Thus though the eye, strictly speaking,
can only pay due attention to these letters in succession, yet the
amazing ease and swiftness, with which it performs this task, enables
us to see considerable spaces with sufficient satisfaction at one
sudden view.
Hence, we shall always suppose some such principal ray moving along
with the eye, and tracing out the parts of every form, we mean to
examine in the most perfect manner: and when we would follow with
exactness the course any body takes, that is in motion, this ray is
always to be supposed to move with the body.
In this manner of attending to forms, they will be found, whether
_at rest_, or _in motion_, to give _movement_ to this imaginary ray;
or, more properly speaking, to the eye itself, affecting it _thereby_
more or less _pleasingly_, according to their different _shapes_ and
_motions_. Thus, for example, in the instance of the jack, whether the
eye (with this imaginary ray) moves slowly down the line, to which the
weight is fix'd, or attends to the slow motion of the weight itself,
the mind is equally fatigu'd: and whether it swiftly courses round the
circular rim of the flyer, when the jack stands; or nimbly follows one
point in its circularity whilst it is whirling about, we are almost
equally made giddy by it. But our sensation differs much from either
of these unpleasant ones, when we observe the curling worm, into which
the worm-wheel is fixt [Fig. 15 L p. I]: for this is always pleasing,
either at rest or in motion, and whether that motion is slow or quick.
[Illustration: Fig. 15]
That it is accounted so, when it is _at rest_, appears by the ribbon,
twisted round a stick (represented on one side of this figure) which
has been a long-establish'd ornament in the carvings of frames,
chimney-pieces, and door-cases; and call'd by the carvers, _the stick
and ribbon ornament_: and when the stick, through the middle is
omitted, it is call'd the _ribbon edge_; both to be seen in almost
every house of fashion.
But the pleasure it gives the eye is still more lively when _in
motion_. I never can forget my frequent strong attention to it, when I
was very young, and that its beguiling movement gave me the same kind
of sensation then, which I since have felt at seeing a country-dance;
tho' perhaps the latter might be somewhat more engaging; particularly
when my eye eagerly pursued a favourite dancer, through all the
windings of the figure, who then was bewitching to the sight, as the
imaginary ray, we were speaking of, was dancing with her all the time.
This single example might be sufficient to explain what I mean by _the
beauty of a composed intricacy of form_; and how it may be said, with
propriety, to _lead_ the eye a _kind of chace_.
But the hair of the head is another very obvious instance, which, being
design'd chiefly as an ornament, proves more or less so, according to
the form it naturally takes, or is put into by art. The most amiable in
itself is the flowing curl; and the many waving and contrasted turns
of naturally intermingling locks ravish the eye with the pleasure of
the pursuit, especially when they are put in motion by a gentle breeze.
The poet knows it, as well as the painter, and has described the wanton
ringlets waving in the wind.
And yet to shew how excess ought to be avoided in intricacy, as well
as in every other principle, the very same head of hair, wisp'd, and
matted together, would make the most disagreeable figure; because
the eye would be perplex'd, and at a fault, and unable to trace
such a confused number of uncomposed and entangled lines; and yet
notwithstanding this, the present fashion the ladies have gone into, of
wearing a part of the hair of their heads braided together from behind,
like intertwisted serpents, arising thickest from the bottom, lessening
as it is brought forward, and naturally conforming to the shape of the
rest of the hair it is pin'd over, is extremely picturesque. Their thus
interlacing the hair in distinct varied quantities is an artful way of
preserving as much of intricacy, as is beautiful.
CHAPTER VI.
_Of QUANTITY_.
Forms of magnitude, although ill-shaped, will however, on account of
their vastness, draw our attention and raise our admiration.
Huge shapeless rocks have a pleasing kind of horror in them, and the
wide ocean awes us with its vast contents; but when forms of beauty are
presented to the eye in large quantities, the pleasure increases on the
mind, and horror is soften'd into reverence.
How solemn and pleasing are groves of high grown trees, great churches,
and palaces? has not even a single spreading oak, grown to maturity,
acquir'd the character of the venerable oak?
Windsor castle is a noble instance of the effect of quantity. The
hugeness of its few distinct parts strikes the eye with uncommon
grandeur at a distance, as well as nigh. It is quantity, with
simplicity, which makes it one of the finest objects in the kingdom,
tho' void of any regular order of architecture.
The Façade of the old Louvre at Paris is also remarkable for its
quantity. This fragment is allow'd to be the finest piece of building
in France, tho' there are many equal, if not superior, to it in all
other respects, except that of quantity.
Who does not feel a pleasure when he pictures in his mind the immense
buildings which once adorn'd the lower Egypt, by imagining the whole
complete, and ornamented with colossal statues?
Elephants and whales please us with their unwieldy greatness. Even
large personages, merely for being so, command respect: nay, quantity
is an addition to the person which often supplies a deficiency in his
figure.
The robes of state are always made large and full, because they give
a grandeur of appearance, suitable to the offices of the greatest
distinction. The judge's robes have an awful dignity given them by the
quantity of their contents, and when the train is held up, there is a
noble waving line descending from the shoulders of the judge to the
hand of his train-bearer. So when the train is gently thrown aside, it
generally falls into a great variety of folds, which again employ the
eye, and fix its attention.
The grandeur of the Eastern dress, which so far surpasses the European,
depends as much on quantity as on costliness.
In a word, it is quantity which adds greatness to grace. But then
excess is to be avoided, or quantity will become clumsy, heavy, or
ridiculous.
[Illustration: Fig. 16]
The full-bottom wig, like the lion's mane, hath something noble in
it, and adds not only dignity, but sagacity to the countenance [fig.
16 p. I]: but were it to be worn as large again, it would become a
burlesque; or were an improper person to put it on, it would then too
be ridiculous.
When improper, or _incompatible_ excesses meet, they always excite
laughter; more especially when the forms of those excesses are
inelegant, that is, when they are composed of unvaried lines.
[Illustration: Figs. 17 and 18]
For example, the figure refer'd to in the margin [Fig. 17 p. I],
represents a fat grown face of a man, with an infant's cap on, and the
rest of the child's dress stuff'd, and so well placed under his chin,
as to seem to belong to that face. This is a contrivance I have seen at
Bartholomew-fair, and always occasion'd a roar of laughter. The next
[Fig. 18 p. I] is of the same kind, a child with a man's wig and cap
on. In these you see the ideas of youth and age jumbled together, in
forms without beauty.
[Illustration: Fig. 19]
So a Roman general [Fig. 19 p. I], dress'd by a modern tailor and
peruke-maker, for tragedy, is a comic figure.----The dresses of the
times are mix'd, and the lines which compose them are straight or only
round.
Dancing-masters, representing deities, in their grand ballets on the
stage, are no less ridiculous. See the Jupiter [Fig. 20 p. I].
[Illustration: Fig. 20]
Nevertheless custom and fashion will, in length of time, reconcile
almost every absurdity whatever, to the eye, or make it over-look'd.
It is from the same joining of opposite ideas that makes us laugh at
the owl and the ass, for under their aukward forms, they seem to be
gravely musing and meditating, as if they had the sense of human beings.
A monkey too whose figure, as well as most of his actions, so odly
resembles the human, is also very comical; and he becomes more so when
a coat is put on him, as he then becomes a greater burlesque on the man.
There is something extremely odd and comical in the rough shock dog.
The ideas here connected are the inelegant and inanimate figure of a
thrum mop, or muff, and that of a sensible, friendly animal; which is
as much a burlesque of the dog, as the monkey when his coat is on, is
of the man.
What can it be but this inelegance of the figure, join'd with
impropriety, that makes a whole audience burst into laughter, when they
see the miller's sack, in Dr. Faustus, jumping across the stage? was
a well-shap'd vase to do the same, it would equally surprise, but not
make every body laugh, because the elegance of the form would prevent
it.
For when the forms, thus join'd together, are each of them elegant,
and composed of agreeable lines, they will be so far from making us
laugh, that they will become entertaining to the imagination, as
well as pleasing to the eye. The sphinx and siren have been admired
and accounted ornamental in all ages. The former represents strength
and beauty join'd; the latter, beauty and swiftness, in pleasing and
graceful forms.
The griffin, a modern hieroglyphic, signifying strength and swiftness,
united in the two noble forms of the lion and eagle, is a grand object.
So the antique centaur hath a savage greatness as well as beauty.
These may be said to be monsters, it's true, but then they convey
such noble ideas, and have such elegance in their forms as greatly
compensates for their being unnaturally join'd together.
I shall mention but one more instance of this sort, and that the most
extraordinary of all, which is an infant's head of about two years old,
with a pair of duck's-wings placed under its chin, supposed always to
be flying about, and singing psalms [Fig. 22 R p. I].
[Illustration: Fig. 22]
A painter's representation of heaven would be nothing without swarms
of these little inconsistent objects, flying about, or perching on the
clouds; and yet there is something so agreeable in their form, that the
eye is reconciled and overlooks the absurdity, and we find them in the
carving and painting of almost every church. St. Paul's is full of them.
* * * * *
As the foregoing principles are the very ground work of what is to
follow; we will, in order to make them the more familiar to us, just
speak of them in the way they are daily put in practice, and may be
seen, in every dress that is worn; and we shall find not only that
ladies of fashion, but that women of every rank, who are said to
dress prettily, have known their force, without considering them as
principles.
* * * * *
I. Fitness is first considered by them, as knowing that their dresses
should be useful, commodious, and fitted to their different ages; or
rich, airy, and loose, agreeable to the character they would give out
to the public by their dress.
* * * * *
II. Uniformity is chiefly complied with in dress on account of fitness,
and seems to be extended not much farther than dressing both arms
alike, and having the shoes of the same colour. For when any part of
dress has not the excuse of fitness or propriety for its uniformity of
parts, the ladies always call it _formal_.
For which reason, when they are at liberty to make what shapes they
please in ornamenting their persons, those of the best taste choose the
irregular as the more engaging: for example, no two patches are ever
chosen of the same size, or placed at the same height; nor a single one
in the middle of a feature, unless it be to hide a blemish. So a single
feather, flower, or jewel is generally placed on one side of the head;
or if ever put in front, it is turn'd awry to avoid formality.
It was once the fashion to have two curls of equal size, stuck at the
same height close upon the forehead, which probably took its rise from
seeing the pretty effect of curls falling loosely over the face.
A lock of hair falling thus cross the temples, and by that means
breaking the regularity of the oval, has an effect too alluring to be
strictly decent, as is very well known to the loose and lowest class of
women: but being pair'd in so stiff a manner, as they formerly were,
they lost the desired effect, and ill deserv'd the name of favourites.
* * * * *
III. Variety in dress, both as to colour and form, is the constant
study of the young and gay----But then,
* * * * *
IV. That taudriness may not destroy the proper effect of variety,
simplicity is call'd in to restrain its superfluities, and is often
very artfully made use of to set native beauty off to more advantage.
I have not known any set of people, that have more excell'd in this
principle of simplicity, or plainness, than the Quakers.
* * * * *
V. Quantity, or fulness in dress has ever been a darling principle;
so that sometimes those parts of dress, which would properly admit of
being extended to a great degree, have been carried into such strange
excesses, that in the reign of Queen Elizabeth a law was made to put a
stop to the growth of ruffs: nor is the enormous size of the hoops at
present, a less sufficient proof of the extraordinary love of quantity
in dress, beyond that of convenience or elegance.
* * * * *
VI. The beauty of intricacy lies in contriving winding shapes, such as
the antique lappets belonging to the head of the sphinx [Fig. 21 p. I],
or as the modern lappet when it is brought before. Every part of dress,
that will admit of the application of this principle, has an air (as it
is term'd) given to it thereby; and altho' it requires dexterity and a
taste to execute these windings well, we find them daily practised with
success.
[Illustration: Fig. 21]
This principle also recommends modesty in dress, to keep up our
expectations, and not suffer them to be too soon gratified. Therefore
the body and limbs should all be cover'd, and little more than certain
hints be given of them thro' the cloathing.
The face indeed will bear a constant view, yet always entertain and
keep our curiosity awake, without the assistance either of a mask, or
veil; because vast variety of changing circumstances keeps the eye
and the mind in constant play, in following the numberless turns of
expression it is capable of. How soon does a face that wants expression
grow insipid, tho' it be ever so pretty?--The rest of the body, not
having these advantages in common with the face, would soon satiate the
eye, were it to be as constantly exposed, nor would it have more effect
than a marble statue. But when it is artfully cloath'd and decorated,
the mind at every turn resumes its imaginary pursuits concerning it.
Thus, if I may be allow'd a simile, the angler chooses not to see the
fish he angles for, until it is fairly caught.
CHAPTER VII.
_Of LINES_.
It may be remember'd that in the introduction, the reader is desired to
consider the surfaces of objects as so many shells of lines, closely
connected together, which idea of them it will now be proper to call to
mind, for the better comprehending not only this, but all the following
chapters on composition.
The constant use made of lines by mathematicians, as well as painters,
in describing things upon paper, hath establish'd a conception of them,
as if actually existing on the real forms themselves. This likewise
we suppose, and shall set out with saying in general--That _the
straight line_, and _the circular line_, together with their different
combinations, and variations, &c. bound, and circumscribe all visible
objects whatsoever, thereby producing such endless variety of forms, as
lays us under the necessity of dividing, and distinguishing them into
general classes; leaving the intervening mixtures of appearances to the
reader's own farther observation.
First, [Fig. 23 T p. I] objects composed of straight lines only, as
the cube, or of circular lines, as the sphere, or of both together, as
cylinders and cones, &c.
[Illustration: Fig. 23]
Secondly, [Fig. 24 T p. I] those composed of straight lines, circular
lines, and of lines partly straight, and partly circular, as the
capitals of columns, and vases, &c.
[Illustration: Fig. 24]
Thirdly, [Fig. 25 T p. I] those composed of all the former together
with an addition of the waving line, which is a line more productive of
beauty than any of the former, as in flowers, and other forms of the
ornamental kind: for which reason we shall call it the line of beauty.
[Illustration: Fig. 25]
Fourthly, [Fig. 26 T p. I] those composed of all the former together
with the serpentine line, as the human form, which line hath the power
of super-adding grace to beauty. Note, forms of most grace have least
of the straight line in them.
[Illustration: Fig. 26]
It is to be observed, that straight lines vary only in length, and
therefore are least ornamental.
That curved lines as they can be varied in their degrees of curvature
as well as in their lengths, begin on that account to be ornamental.
That straight and curv'd lines join'd, being a compound line, vary more
than curves alone, and so become somewhat more ornamental.
That the waving line, or line of beauty, varying still more, being
composed of two curves contrasted, becomes still more ornamental and
pleasing, insomuch that the hand takes a lively movement in making it
with pen or pencil.
And that the serpentine line, by its waving and winding at the same
time different ways, leads the eye in a pleasing manner along the
continuity of its variety, if I may be allowed the expression; and
which by its twisting so many different ways, may be said to inclose
(tho' but a single line) varied contents; and therefore all its
variety cannot be express'd on paper by one continued line, without
the assistance of the imagination, or the help of a figure; see [Fig.
26 T p. I] where that sort of proportion'd, winding line, which will
hereafter be call'd the precise serpentine line, or _line of grace_,
is represented by a fine wire, properly twisted round the elegant and
varied figure of a cone.
CHAPTER VIII.
_Of what sort of PARTS, and how PLEASING FORMS are composed_.
Thus far having endeavoured to open as large an idea as possible of the
power of variety, by having partly shewn that those lines which have
most variety in themselves, contribute most towards the production of
beauty; we will next shew how lines may be put together, so as to make
pleasing figures or compositions.
In order to be as clear as possible, we will give a few examples of
the most familiar and easy sort, and let them serve as a clue to be
pursued in the imagination: I say in the imagination chiefly, for the
following method is not meant always to be put in practice, or follow'd
in every case, for indeed that could hardly be, and in some it would be
ridiculously losing time if it could----Yet there may be cases where
it may be necessary to follow this method minutely; as for example, in
architecture.
I am thoroughly convinc'd in myself, however it may startle some, that
a completely new and harmonious order of architecture in all its parts,
might be produced by the following method of composing, but hardly with
certainty without it; and this I am the more apt to believe, as upon
the strictest examination, those four orders of the ancients, which are
so well established for beauty and true proportion, perfectly agree
with the scheme we shall now lay down.
This way of composing pleasing forms, is to be accomplished by making
choice of variety of lines, as to their shapes and dimensions; and then
again by varying their situations with each other, by all the different
ways that can be conceived: and at the same time (if a solid figure be
the subject of the composition) the contents or space that is to be
inclosed within those lines, must be duly consider'd and vary'd too, as
much as possible, with propriety. In a word, it may be said, the art of
composing well is the art of varying well. It is not expected that this
should at first be perfectly comprehended, yet I believe it will be
made sufficiently clear by the help of the examples following.
[Illustration: Fig. 29]
The figure [Fig. 29 T p. I], represents the simple and pleasing figure
of a bell; this shell, as we may call it, is composed of waving lines,
encompassing, or bounding within it, the varied space marked with
dotted lines: here you see the variety of the space within is equal to
the beauty of its form without, and if the space, or contents, were to
be more varied, the outward form would have still more beauty.
[Illustration: Figs. 30, 31 and 32]
As a proof, see a composition of more parts, and a way by which those
parts may be put together by a certain method of varying: i. e. how the
one half of the socket of the candlestick A [Fig. 30 T p. I], may be
varied as the other half B. Let a convenient and fit height be first
given for a candlestick, as [Fig. 31 T p. I], then let the necessary
size of the socket be determined, as at (a) [Fig. 32] after which,
in order to give it a better form, let every _distance_ or length of
divisions differ from the length of the socket, as also vary in their
distances from each other, as is seen by the points on the line under
the socket (a); that is let any two points, _signifying distance_, be
plac'd farthest from any other two near points, observing always that
there should be one distance or part larger than all the rest; and you
will readily see that variety could not be so complete without it.--In
like manner, let the horizontal distances (always keeping within the
bounds of fitness) be varied both as to distances and situations, as
on the opposite side of the same figure (b); then unite and join all
the several distances into a complete shell, by applying several parts
of curves and straight lines; varying them also by making them of
different sizes, as (c): and apply them as at (d) in the same figure,
and you have the candlestick [Fig. 33 T p. I], and with still more
variations on the other side. If you divide the candlestick into many
more parts, it will appear crouded, as [Fig. 34 T p. I] it will want
distinctness of form on a near view, and lose the effect of variety at
a distance: this the eye will easily distinguish on removing pretty far
from it.
[Illustration: Figs. 33 and 34]
Simplicity in composition, or distinctness of parts, is ever to be
attended to, as it is one part of beauty, as has been already said: but
that what I mean by distinctness of parts in this place, may be better
understood, it will be proper to explain it by an example.
When you would compose an object of a great variety of parts, let
several of those parts be distinguish'd by themselves, by their
remarkable difference from the next adjoining, so as to make each of
them, as it were, one well-shap'd quantity or part, as is marked by
the dotted lines in figure [35 T p. I] (these are like what they call
passages in music, and in writing paragraphs) by which means, not only
the whole, but even every part, will be better understood by the eye:
for confusion will hereby be avoided when the object is seen near, and
the shapes will seem well varied, tho' fewer in number, at a distance;
as figure [36 p. I] supposed to be the same as the former, but removed
so far off that the eye loses sight of the smaller members.
[Illustration: Figs. 35 and 36]
The parsley-leaf [Fig. 37 T p. I], in like manner, from whence a
beautiful foliage in ornament was originally taken, is divided into
three distinct passages; which are again divided into other odd
numbers; and this method is observ'd, for the generality, in the leaves
of all plants and flowers, the most simple of which are the trefoil and
cinquefoil.
[Illustration: Fig. 37]
Light and shade, and colours, also must have their distinctness to
make objects completely beautiful: but of these in their proper
places----only I will give you a general idea of what is here meant by
the beauty of distinctness of forms, lights, shades, and colours, by
putting you in mind of the reverse effects in all them together.
Observe the well-composed nosegay how it loses all its distinctness
when it dies; each leaf and flower then shrivels and loses its distinct
shape; and the firm colours fade into a kind of sameness: so that the
whole gradually becomes a confused heap.
If the general parts of objects are preserv'd large at first, they will
always admit of farther enrichments of a small kind, but then they must
be so small as not to confound the general masses or quantities.--thus
you see variety is a check upon itself when overdone, which of course
begets what is call'd a _petit taste_ and a confusion to the eye.
[Illustration: Figs. 38 and 39]
It will not be amiss next to shew what effects an object or two
will have that are put together without, or contrary to these rules
of composing variety. Figure [38 L p. I], is taken from one of those
branches fixt to the sides of common old-fashion'd stove-grates by way
of ornament, wherein you see how the parts have been varied by fancy
only, and yet pretty well: close to which [Fig. 39 L p. I] is another,
with about the like number of parts; but as the shapes, neither are
enough varied as to their contents, nor in their situations with each
other, but one shape follows its exact likeness: it is therefore
a disagreeable and tasteless figure, and for the same reason the
candlestick, fig. [40 T p. I] is still worse, as there is less variety
in it. Nay, it would be better to be quite plain, as figure [41 T p.
I], than with such poor attempts at ornament.
[Illustration: Figs. 40, 41 and 42]
These few examples, well understood, will, I imagine, be sufficient
to put what was said at the beginning of this chapter out of all
doubt, viz. that _the art of composing well_ is no more than the _art
of varying well_; and to shew, that the method which has been here
explain'd, must consequently produce a pleasing proportion amongst
the parts; as well as that all deviations from it will produce the
contrary. Yet to strengthen this latter assertion, let the following
figures, taken from the life, be examin'd by the above rules for
composing, and it will be found that the Indian-fig or torch-thistle,
figure [42 T p. I], as well as all that tribe of uncouth shaped
exotics, have the same reasons for being ugly, as the candlestick, fig.
40; as also that the beauties of the Lily [Fig. 43 T p. I] and the
calcidonian Iris [Fig. 44 T p. I] proceeds from their being composed
with great variety, and that the loss of variety, to a certain degree,
in the imitations of those flowers underneath them (fig. 45 and 46) is
the cause of the meanness of their shapes, tho' they retain enough to
be call'd by the same names.
[Illustration: Figs. 43 and 44]
[Illustration: Figs. 45 and 46]
Hitherto, with regard to composition, little else but forms made up of
straight and curv'd lines have been spoken of, and though these lines
have but little variety in themselves, yet by reason of the great
diversifications that they are capable of in being join'd with one
another; great variety of beauty of the more useful sort is produced
by them, as in necessary utensils and building: but in my opinion,
buildings as I before hinted, might be much more varied than they are,
for after _fitness_ hath been strictly and mechanically complied with,
any additional ornamental members, or parts, may, by the foregoing
rules, be varied with equal elegance; nor can I help thinking, but that
churches, palaces, hospitals, prisons, common houses and summer houses,
might be built more in distinct characters than they are, by contriving
orders suitable to each; whereas were a modern architect to build a
palace in Lapland, or the West-Indies, Paladio must be his guide, nor
would he dare to stir a step without his book.
Have not many gothic buildings a great deal of consistent beauty
in them? perhaps acquired by a series of improvements made from
time to time by the natural persuasion of the eye, which often very
near answers the end of working by principles; and sometimes begets
them. There is at present such a thirst after variety, that even
paltry imitations of Chinese buildings have a kind of vogue, chiefly
on account of their novelty: but not only these, but any other
new-invented characters of building might be regulated by proper
principles. The mere ornaments of buildings, to be sure, at least might
be allow'd a greater latitude than they are at present; as capitals,
frizes, &c. in order to increase the beauty of variety.
Nature, in shells and flowers, &c. affords an infinite choice of
elegant hints for this purpose; as the original of the Corinthian
capital was taken from nothing more, as is said, than some dock-leaves
growing up against a basket. Even a capital composed of the aukward and
confin'd forms of hats and periwigs, as fig. [48 p. I] in a skilful
hand might be made to have some beauty.
[Illustration: Fig. 48]
However, tho' the moderns have not made many additions to the art of
building, with respect to mere beauty or ornament, yet it must be
confess'd, they have carried simplicity, convenience, and neatness of
workmanship, to a very great degree of perfection, particularly in
England; where plain good sense hath prefer'd these more necessary
parts of beauty, which every body can understand, to that richness of
taste which is so much to be seen in other countries, and so often
substituted in their room.
St. Paul's cathedral is one of the noblest instances that can be
produced of the most judicious application of every principle that
has been spoken of. There you may see the utmost variety without
confusion, simplicity without nakedness, richness without taudriness,
distinctness without hardness, and quantity without excess. Whence the
eye is entertain'd throughout with the charming variety of all its
parts together; the noble projecting quantity of a certain number of
them, which presents bold and distinct parts at a distance, when the
lesser parts within them disappear; and the grand few, but remarkably
well-varied parts that continue to please the eye as long as the
object is discernable, are evident proofs of the superior skill of Sir
Christopher Wren, so justly esteem'd the prince of architects.
It will scarcely admit of a dispute, that the outside of this building
is much more perfect than that of St. Peter's at Rome: but the inside,
though as fine and noble, as the space it stands on, and our religion
will allow of, must give way to the splendor, shew, and magnificence
of that of St. Peter's, on account of the sculptures and paintings, as
well as the greater magnitude of the whole, which makes it excel as to
quantity.
There are many other churches of great beauty, the work of the same
architect, which are hid in the heart of the city, whose steeples
and spires are raised higher than ordinary, that they may be seen at
a distance above the other buildings; and the great number of them
dispers'd about the whole city, adorn the prospect of it, and give it
an air of opulence and magnificence: on which account their shapes will
be found to be particularly beautiful. Of these, and perhaps of any in
Europe, St. Mary-le-Bow is the most elegantly varied. St. Bride's in
Fleet-street diminishes sweetly by elegant degrees, but its variations,
tho' very curious when you are near them, not being quite so bold, and
distinct, as those of Bow, it too soon looses variety at a distance.
Some gothic spires are finely and artfully varied, particularly the
famous steeple of Strasburg.
Westminster-Abbey is a good contrast to St. Paul's, with regard to
simplicity and distinctness, the great number of its filligrean
ornaments, and small divided and subdivided parts appear confused
when nigh, and are totally lost at a moderate distance; yet there is
nevertheless such a consistency of parts altogether in a good gothic
taste, and such propriety relative to the gloomy ideas, they were then
calculated to convey, that they have at length acquir'd an establish'd
and distinct character in building. It would be look'd upon as an
impropriety and as a kind of profanation to build places for mirth and
entertainment in the same taste.
CHAPTER IX.
_Of COMPOSITION with the WAVING-LINE_.
There is scarce a room in any house whatever, where one does not see
the waving-line employ'd in some way or other. How inelegant would
the shapes of all our moveables be without it? how very plain and
unornamental the mouldings of cornices, and chimney-pieces, without the
variety introduced by the _ogee_ member, which is entirely composed of
waving-lines.
[Illustration: Figs. 49 and 50]
Though all sorts of waving-lines are ornamental, when properly applied;
yet, strictly speaking, there is but one precise line, properly to be
called the line of _beauty_, which in the scale of them [Fig. 49 T p.
I] is number 4: the lines 5, 6, 7, by their bulging too much in their
curvature becoming gross and clumsy; and, on the contrary, 3, 2, 1, as
they straighten, becoming mean and poor; as will appear in the next
figure [50 T p. I] where they are applied to the legs of chairs.
[Illustration: Fig. 53]
A still more perfect idea of the effects of the precise waving-line,
and of those lines that deviate from it, may be conceived by the row
of stays, figure [53 B p. I], where number 4 is composed of precise
waving-lines, and is therefore the best shaped stay. Every whale-bone
of a good stay must be made to bend in this manner: for the whole
stay, when put close together behind, is truly a shell of well-varied
contents, and its surface of course a fine form; so that if a line, or
the lace were to be drawn, or brought from the top of the lacing of
the stay behind, round the body, and down to the bottom peak of the
stomacher; it would form such a perfect, precise, serpentine-line,
as has been shewn, round the cone, figure 26 in plate I.----For this
reason all ornaments obliquely contrasting the body in this manner,
as the ribbons worn by the knights of the garter, are both genteel
and graceful. The numbers 5, 6, 7 and 3, 2, 1, are deviations into
stiffness and meanness on one hand, and clumsiness and deformity on the
other. The reasons for which disagreeable effects, after what has been
already said, will be evident to the meanest capacity.
[Illustration: Fig. 26]
It may be worth our notice however, that the stay, number 2, would
better fit a well-shaped man than number 4; and that number 4, would
better fit a well-form'd woman, than number 2; and when on considering
them, merely as to their forms, and comparing them together as you
would two vases, it has been shewn by our principles, how much finer
and more beautiful number 4 is, than number 2: does not this our
determination enhance the merit of these principles, as it proves at
the same time how much the form of a woman's body surpasses in beauty
that of a man?
From the examples that have been given, enough may be gathered to carry
on our observations from them to any other objects that may chance to
come in our way, either animate or inanimate; so that we may not only
_lineally_ account for the ugliness of the toad, the hog, the bear, and
the spider, which are totally void of this waving-line, but also for
the different degrees of beauty belonging to those objects that possess
it.
CHAPTER X.
_Of COMPOSITIONS with the SERPENTINE-LINE_.
The very great difficulty there is in describing this line, either in
words, or by the pencil (as was hinted before, when I first mention'd
it) will make it necessary for me to proceed very slowly in what I have
to say in this chapter, and to beg the reader's patience whilst I lead
him step by step into the knowledge of what I think the sublime in
form, so remarkably display'd in the human body; in which, I believe,
when he is once acquainted with the idea of them, he will find this
species of lines to be principally concern'd.
First, then, let him consider fig. [56 B p. II], which represents a
straight horn, with its contents, and he will find, as it varies like
the cone, it is a form of some beauty, merely on that account.
[Illustration: Fig. 56]
Next let him observe in what manner, and in what degree the beauty of
this horn is increas'd, in fig. [57 B p. II], where it is supposed to
be bent two different ways.
[Illustration: Fig. 57]
And lastly, let him attend to the vast increase of beauty, even to
grace and elegance, in the same horn, fig. [58 B p. II], where it is
supposed to have been twisted round, at the same time, that it was bent
two different ways, (as in the last figure).
[Illustration: Fig. 58]
In the first of these figures, the dotted line down the middle
expresses the straight lines of which it is composed; which, without
the assistance of curve lines, or light and shade, would hardly shew it
to have contents.
The same is true of the second, tho' by the bending of the horn, the
straight dotted line is changed into the beautiful waving-line.
But in the last, this dotted line, by the twisting as well as
the bending of the horn, is changed from the waving into the
serpentine-line; which, as it dips out of sight behind the horn in the
middle, and returns again at the smaller end, not only gives play to
the imagination, and delights the eye, on that account; but informs it
likewise of the quantity and variety of the contents.
I have chosen this simple example, as the easiest way of giving a plain
and general idea of the peculiar qualities of these serpentine-lines,
and the advantages of bringing them into compositions, where the
contents you are to express, admit of grace and elegance.
And I beg the same things may be understood of these serpentine-lines,
that I have said before of the waving-lines. For as among the vast
variety of waving-lines that may be conceiv'd, there is but one that
truly deserves the name of _the line of beauty_, so there is only one
precise serpentine-line that I call _the line of grace_. Yet, even when
they are made too bulging, or too tapering, though they certainly lose
of their beauty and grace, they do not become so wholly void of it,
as not to be of excellent service in compositions, where beauty and
grace are not particularly design'd to be express'd in their greatest
perfection.
Though I have distinguish'd these lines so particularly as to give
them the titles of _the lines of beauty and grace_, I mean that the
use and application of them should still be confined by the principles
I have laid down for composition in general; and that they should be
judiciously mixt and combined with one another, and even with those
I may term _plain_ lines, (in opposition to these) as the subject in
hand requires. Thus the cornu-copia, fig. [59 B p. II], is twisted
and bent after the same manner, as the last figure of the horn; but
more ornamented, and with a greater number of other lines of the same
twisted kind, winding round it with as quick returns as those of a
screw.
[Illustration: Fig. 59]
This sort of form may be seen with yet more variations, (and therefore
more beautiful) in the goat's horn, from which, in all probability, the
ancients originally took the extremely elegant forms they have given
their cornu-copias.
There is another way of considering this last figure of the horn I
would recommend to my reader, in order to give him a clearer idea of
the use both of the waving and serpentine-lines in composition.
This is to imagine the horn, thus bent and twisted, to be cut
length-ways by a very fine saw into two equal parts; and to observe
one of these in the same position the whole horn is represented in;
and these two observations will naturally occur to him. First, that
the edge of the saw must run from one end to the other of the horn
in the line of beauty; so that the edges of this half of the horn
will have a beautiful shape: and, secondly, that wherever the dotted
serpentine-line on the surface of the whole horn dips behind, and is
lost to the eye, it immediately comes into sight on the hollow surface
of the divided horn.
The use I shall make of these observations will appear very
considerable in the application of them to the human form, which we are
next to attempt.
It will be sufficient, therefore, at present only to observe, first,
that the whole horn acquires a beauty by its being thus genteely bent
two different ways; secondly, that whatever lines are drawn on its
external surface become graceful, as they must all of them, from the
twist that is given the horn, partake in some degree or other, of the
shape of the serpentine-line: and, lastly, when the horn is split, and
the inner, as well as the outward surface of its shell-like form is
exposed, the eye is peculiarly entertained and relieved in the pursuit
of these serpentine-lines, as in their twistings their concavities
and convexities are alternately offer'd to its view. Hollow forms,
therefore, composed of such lines are extremely beautiful and pleasing
to the eye; in many cases more so, than those of solid bodies.
Almost all the muscles, and bones, of which the human form is
composed, have more, or less of these kind of twists in them; and give
in a less degree, the same kind of appearance to the parts which cover
them, and are the immediate object of the eye: and for this reason it
is that I have been so particular in describing these forms of the
bent, and twisted, and ornamented horn.
There is scarce a straight bone in the whole body. Almost all of
them are not only bent different ways, but have a kind of twist,
which in some of them is very graceful; and the muscles annex'd
to them, tho' they are of various shapes, appropriated to their
particular uses, generally have their component fibres running in
these serpentine-lines, surrounding and conforming themselves to the
varied shape of the bones they belong to: more especially in the limbs.
Anatomists are so satisfied of this, that they take a pleasure in
distinguishing their several beauties. I shall only instance in the
thigh-bone, and those about the hips.
[Illustration: Figs. 64 and 62]
The thigh-bone fig. [62 R p. II], has the waving and twisted turn
of the horn, 58: but the beautiful bones adjoining, call'd the ossa
innominata [Fig. 60 B p. II], have, with greater variety, the same
turns and twists of that horn when it is cut; and its inner and outward
surfaces are exposed to the eye.
[Illustration: Figs. 60, 61 and 63]
How ornamental these bones appear, when the prejudice we conceive
against them, as being part of a skeleton, is taken off, by adding
a little foliage to them, may be seen in fig. [61 B p. II]----such
shell-like winding forms, mixt with foliage, twisting about them, are
made use of in all ornaments; a kind of composition calculated merely
to please the eye. Divest these of their serpentine twinings, and they
immediately lose all grace, and return to the poor gothic taste they
were in an hundred years ago [Fig. 63 B p. II].
[Illustration: Figs. 64 and 62]
Fig. [64 B p. II] is meant to represent the manner, in which most of
the muscles, (those of the limbs in particular) are twisted round the
bones, and conform themselves to their length and shape; but with
no anatomical exactness. As to the running of their fibres, some
anatomists have compared them to skains of thread, loose in the middle,
and tight at each end, which, when they are thus consider'd as twisted
contrary ways round the bone, gives the strongest idea possible of a
composition of serpentine-lines.
[Illustration: Figs. 65, 66 and 67]
Of these fine winding forms then are the muscles and bones composed,
and which, by their varied situations with each other, become more
intricately pleasing, and form a continued waving of winding forms from
one into the other, as may be best seen by examining a good anatomical
figure, part of which you have here represented, in the muscular leg
and thigh, fig. [65 p. I]: which shews the serpentine forms and varied
situations of the muscles, as they appear when the skin is taken off.
It was drawn from a plaster of paris figure cast off nature, the
original of which was prepared for the mould by Cowper, the famous
anatomist. In this last figure, as the skin is taken off the parts are
too distinctly traced by the eye, for that intricate delicacy which is
necessary to the utmost beauty; yet the winding figures of the muscles,
with the variety of their situations, must always be allow'd elegant
forms: however, they lose in the imagination some of the beauty, which
they really have, by the idea of their being flayed; nevertheless,
by what has already been shewn both of them and the bones, the human
frame hath more of its parts composed of serpentine-lines than any
other object in nature; which is a proof both of its superior beauty
to all others, and, at the same time, that its beauty proceeds from
those lines: for although they may be required sometimes to be bulging
in their twists, as in the thick swelling muscles of the Hercules, yet
elegance and greatness of taste is still preserved; but when these
lines lose so much of their twists as to become almost straight, all
elegance of taste vanishes.
Thus fig. [66 p. I], was also taken from nature, and drawn in the same
position, but treated in a more dry, stiff, and what the painters call,
_sticky manner_, than the nature of flesh is ever capable of appearing
in, unless when its moisture is dryed away: it must be allowed, that
the parts of this figure are of as right dimensions, and as truly
situated, as in the former; it wants only the true twist of the lines
to give it taste.
To prove this further, and to put the mean effect of these plain or
unvaried lines in a stronger light, see fig. [67 p. I], where, by the
uniform, unvaried shapes and situation of the muscles, without so much
as a waving-line in them, it becomes so wooden a form, that he that
can fashion the leg of a joint-stool may carve this figure as well as
the best sculptor. In the same manner, divest one of the best antique
statues of all its serpentine winding parts, and it becomes from an
exquisite piece of art, a figure of such ordinary lines and unvaried
contents, that a common stone-mason or carpenter, with the help of his
rule, calipers, and compasses, might carve out an exact imitation of
it: and were it not for these lines a turner, in his lathe, might turn
a much finer neck than that of the grecian Venus, as according to the
common notion of a beautiful neck, it would be more truly round. For
the same reason, legs much swoln with disease, are as easy to imitate
as a post, having lost their _drawing_, as the painters call it; that
is, having their serpentine-lines all effaced, by the skin's being
equally puffed up, as figure [68].
[Illustration: Fig. 68]
If in comparing these three figures one with another, the reader,
notwithstanding the prejudice his imagination may have conceiv'd
against them, as anatomical figures, has been enabled only to perceive
that one of them is not so disagreeable as the others; he will easily
be led to see further, that this tendency to beauty in one, is not
owing to any greater degree of exactness in the _proportions_ of its
parts, but merely to the more _pleasing turns, and intertwistings of
the lines,_ which compose its external form; for in all the three
figures the same proportions have been observ'd, and, on that account,
they have all an equal claim to beauty.
And if he pursues this anatomical enquiry but a very little further,
just to form a true idea of the elegant use that is made of the
skin and fat beneath it, to conceal from the eye all that is hard
and disagreeable, and at the same time to preserve to it whatever
is necessary in the shapes of the parts beneath, to give grace and
beauty to the whole limb: he will find himself insensibly led into the
principles of that grace and beauty which is to be found in well-turn'd
limbs, in fine, elegant, healthy life, or in those of the best
antique statues; as well as into the reason why his eye has so often
unknowingly been pleased and delighted with them.
Thus, in all other parts of the body, as well as these, wherever, for
the sake of the necessary motion of the parts, with proper strength
and agility, the insertions of the muscles are too hard and sudden,
their swellings too bold, or the hollows between them too deep, for
their out-lines to be beautiful; nature most judiciously softens these
hardnesses, and plumps up these vacancies with a proper supply of fat,
and covers the whole with the soft, smooth, springy, and, in delicate
life, almost transparent skin, which, conforming itself to the external
shape of all the parts beneath, expresses to the eye the idea of its
contents with the utmost delicacy of beauty and grace.
The skin, therefore, thus tenderly embracing, and gently conforming
itself to the varied shapes of every one of the outward muscles of the
body, soften'd underneath by the fat, where, otherwise, the same hard
lines and furrows would appear, as we find come on with age in the
face, and with labour, in the limbs, is evidently a shell-like surface
(to keep up the idea I set out with) form'd with the utmost delicacy
in nature; and therefore the most proper subject of the study of every
one, who desires to imitate the works of nature, _as a master should
do_, or to judge of the performances of others _as a real connoisseur
ought_.
I cannot be too long, I think, on this subject, as so much will be
found to depend upon it; and therefore shall endeavour to give a clear
idea of the different effect such anatomical figures have on the eye,
from what the same parts have, when cover'd by the fat and skin; by
supposing a small wire (that has lost its spring and so will retain
every shape it is twisted into) to be held fast to the out-side of the
hip (fig. 65. plate I) and thence brought down the other side of the
thigh obliquely over the calf of the leg, down to the outward ancle
(all the while press'd so close as to touch and conform itself to the
shape of every muscle it passes over) and then to be taken off. If this
wire be now examined it will be found that the general uninterrupted
flowing twist, which the winding round the limbs would otherwise have
given to it, is broken into little better than so many separate plain
curves, by the sharp indentures it every where has receiv'd on being
closely press'd in between the muscles.
[Illustration: Figs. 65, 66 and 67]
Suppose, in the next place, such a wire was in the same manner twisted
round a living well-shaped leg and thigh, or those of a fine statue;
when you take it off you will find no such sharp indentures, nor any of
those regular _engralings_ (as the heralds express it) which displeased
the eye before. On the contrary, you will see how _gradually_ the
changes in its shape are produced; how imperceptibly the different
curvatures run into each other, and how easily the eye glides along
the varied wavings of its sweep. To enforce this still further, if
a line were to be drawn by a pencil exactly where these wires have
been supposed to pass, the point of the pencil, in the muscular leg
and thigh, would perpetually meet with stops and rubs, whilst in the
others it would flow from muscle to muscle along the elastic skin, as
pleasantly as the lightest skiff dances over the gentlest wave.
This idea of the wire, retaining thus the shape of the parts it passes
over, seems of so much consequence, that I would by no means have it
forgot; as it may properly be consider'd as one of the threads (or
outlines) of the shell (or external surface) of the human form: and
the frequently recurring to it will assist the imagination in its
conceptions of those parts of it, whose shapes are most intricately
varied: for the same sort of observations may be made, with equal
justice, on the shapes of ever so many such wires twisted in the same
manner in ever so many directions over every part of a well made man,
woman, or statue.
And if the reader will follow in his imagination the most exquisite
turns of the chisel in the hands of a master, when he is putting the
finishing touches to a statue; he will soon be led to understand what
it is the real judges expect from the hand of such a master, which
the Italians call, the little more, Il poco piu, and which in reality
distinguishes the original master-pieces at Rome from even the best
copies of them.
An example or two will sufficiently explain what is here meant; for
as these exquisite turns are to be found, in some degree of beauty
or other, all over the whole surface of the body and limbs: we may
by taking any one part of a fine figure (though so small a one that
only a few muscles are express'd in it) explain the manner in which so
much beauty and grace has been given to them, as to convince a skilful
artist, almost at sight, that it must have been the work of a master.
[Illustration: Fig. 76]
I have chosen, for this purpose, a small piece of the body of a statue,
fig. [76 T p. II], representing part of the left side under the arm,
together with a little of the breast, (including a very particular
muscle, which, from the likeness its edges bear to the teeth of a saw,
is, if consider'd by itself, void of beauty) as most proper to the
point in hand, because this its regular shape more peculiarly requires
the skill of the artist to give it a little more variety than it
generally has, even in nature.
[Illustration: Fig. 77]
First, then, I will give you a representation of this part of the
body, from an anatomical figure [Fig. 77 T p. II], to show what a
sameness there is in the shapes of all the teeth-like insertions of
this muscle; and how regularly the fibres, which compose it, follow the
almost parallel out-lines of the ribs they partly cover.
[Illustration: Fig. 78]
From what has been said before of the use of the natural covering of
the skin, &c. the next figure [78 T p. II] will easily be understood to
mean so tame a representation of the same part of the body, that tho'
the hard and stiff appearance of the edges of this muscle is taken off
by that covering, yet enough of its regularity and sameness remains to
render it disagreeable.
Now as regularity and sameness, according to our doctrine, is want of
elegance and true taste, we shall endeavour in the next place to show
how this very part (in which the muscles take so very regular a form)
may be brought to have as much variety as any other part of the body
whatever. In order to this, though some alteration must be made in
almost every part of it, yet it should be so inconsiderable in each,
that no remarkable change may appear in the shape and situation of any.
[Illustration: Figs. 79, 80 and 81]
Thus, let the parts mark'd 1, 2, 3, 4, (which appear so exactly
similar in shape, and parallel in situation in the muscular figure
77) and not much mended in fig. 78, be first varied in their sizes,
but not gradually from the uppermost to the lowest, as in fig. [79 T
p. II], nor alternately one long and one short, as in fig. [80 T p.
II], for in either of these cases there would still remain too great
a formality. We should therefore endeavour, in the next place, to
vary them every way in our power, without losing entirely the true
idea of the parts themselves. Suppose them then to have changed their
situations a little, and slip'd beside each other irregularly, (some
how as is represented in fig. [81 T p. II], merely with regard to their
situation) and the external appearance of the whole piece of the body,
now under our consideration, will assume the more varied and pleasing
form, represented in fig. 76, easily to be discern'd by comparing the
three figures, 76, 77, 78, one with another; and it will as easily be
seen, that were lines to be drawn, or wires to be bent, over these
muscles, from one to the other, and so on to the adjoining parts; they
would have a continued waving flow, let them pass in any direction
whatever.
The unskilful, in drawing these parts after the life, as their
regularities are much more easily seen and copied than their fine
variations, seldom fail of making them more regular and poor than they
really appear even in a consumptive person.
The difference will appear evident by comparing fig. 78, purposely
drawn in this tasteless manner, with fig. 76. But will be more
perfectly understood by examining this part in the Torso of Michael
Angelo [Fig. 54 p. I], whence this figure was taken.
[Illustration: Fig. 54]
Note, there are casts of a small copy of that famous trunk of a body
to be had at almost every plaster-figure makers, wherein what has been
here described may be sufficiently seen, not only in the part which
figure 76 was taken from, but all over that curious piece of antiquity.
I must here again press my reader to a particular attention to the
windings of these superficial lines, even in their passing over every
joint, what alterations soever may be made in the surface of the skin
by the various bendings of the limbs: and tho' the space allow'd for
it, just in the joints, be ever so small, and consequently the lines
ever so short, the application of this principle of varying these
lines, as far as their lengths will admit of, will be found to have its
effect as gracefully as in the more lengthen'd muscles of the body.
It should be observ'd in the fingers, where the joints are but short,
and the tendons straight; and where beauty seems to submit, in some
degree, to use, yet not so much but you trace in a full-grown taper
finger, these little winding lines among the wrinkles, or in (what
is more pretty because more simple) the dimples of the nuckles. As
we always distinguish things best by seeing their reverse set in
opposition with them; if fig. 82 T p. II, by the straightness of its
lines, shews fig. 83 T p. II, to have some little taste in it, tho' it
is so slightly sketch'd; the difference will more evidently appear when
you in like manner compare a straight coarse finger in common life with
the taper dimpled one of a fine lady.
[Illustration: Figs. 82 and 83]
There is an elegant degree of plumpness peculiar to the skin of the
softer sex, that occasions these delicate dimplings in all their
other joints, as well as these of the fingers; which so perfectly
distinguishes them from those even of a graceful man; and which,
assisted by the more soften'd shapes of the muscles underneath,
presents to the eye all the varieties in the whole figure of the body,
with gentler and fewer parts more sweetly connected together, and with
such a fine simplicity as will always give the turn of the female
frame, represented in the Venus [Fig. 13 p. I], the preference to that
of the Apollo [Fig. 12 p. I].
[Illustration: Figs. 13 and 12]
Now whoever can conceive lines thus constantly flowing, and delicately
varying over every part of the body even to the fingers ends, and will
call to his remembrance what led us to this last description of what
the Italians call, Il poco piu (_the little more_ that is expected from
the hand of a master) will, in my mind, want very little more than what
his own observation on the works of art and nature will lead him to, to
acquire a true idea of the word _Taste_, when applied to form; however
inexplicable this word may hitherto have been imagined.
We have all along had recourse chiefly to the works of the ancients,
not because the moderns have not produced some as excellent; but
because the works of the former are more generally known: nor would
we have it thought, that either of them have ever yet come up to the
utmost beauty of nature. Who but a bigot, even to the antiques, will
say that he has not seen faces and necks, hands and arms in living
women, that even the Grecian Venus doth but coarsely imitate?
And what sufficient reason can be given why the same may not be said of
the rest of the body?
CHAPTER XI.
_Of PROPORTION_.
If anyone should ask, what it is that constitutes a fine-proportion'd
human figure? how ready and seemingly decisive is the common answer: _a
just symmetry and harmony of parts with respect to the whole_. But as
probably this vague answer took its rise from doctrines not belonging
to form, or idle schemes built on them, I apprehend it will cease to be
thought much to the purpose after a proper enquiry has been made.
Preparatory to which, it becomes necessary in this place, to mention
one reason more which may be added to those given in the introduction,
for my having persuaded the reader to consider objects scoop'd out like
thin shells; which is, that partly by this conception, he may be the
better able to separate and keep asunder the two following _general
ideas_, as we will call them, belonging to form; which are apt to
coincide and mix with each other in the mind, and which it is necessary
(for the sake of making each more fully and particularly clear) should
be kept apart, and consider'd singly.
First, the _general ideas_ of what hath already been discussed in the
foregoing chapters, which only comprehends the surface of form, viewing
it in no other light than merely as being ornamental or not.
Secondly, that _general idea_, now to be discussed, which we commonly
have of form altogether, as arising chiefly from a fitness to some
design'd purpose or use.
Hitherto our main drift hath been to establish and illustrate the
first idea only, by shewing, first the nature of variety, and then its
effects on the mind; with the manner how such impressions are made by
means of the different feelings given to the eye, from its movements in
tracing and coursing[5] over surfaces of all kinds.
[5] See Chapter V, page 25.
The surface of a piece of ornament, that hath every turn in it that
lines are capable of moving into, and at the same time no way applied,
nor of any manner of use, but merely to entertain the eye, would be
such an object as would answer to this first idea alone.
The figure like a leaf, at the bottom of plate I, near to fig. 67, is
something of this kind; it was taken from an ash-tree, and was a sort
of Lusus naturæ, growing only like an excressence, but so beautiful
in the lines of its shell-like windings, as would have been above the
power of a Gibbons to have equalled, even in its own materials; nor
could the graver of an Edlinck, or Drevet, have done it justice on
copper.
[Illustration: Fig. near Fig. 67]
Note, the present taste of ornaments seems to have been partly taken
from productions of this sort, which are to be found about autumn among
plants, particularly asparagus, when it is running to seed.
I shall now endeavour to explain what is included in what I have called
for distinction sake, the second _general idea_ of form, in a much
fuller manner than was done in Chapter I, of Fitness. And begin with
observing, that though surfaces will unavoidably be still included, yet
we must no longer confine ourselves to the particular notice of them as
surfaces only, as we heretofore have done; we must now open our view to
general, as well as particular bulk and solidity; and also look into
what may have filled up, or given rise thereto, such as certain _given_
quantities and dimensions of parts, for inclosing any substance, or for
performing of _motion, purchase, stedfastness,_ and other matters of
use to living beings, which, I apprehend, at length, will bring us to a
tolerable conception of the word _proportion_.
As to these _joint-sensations_ of bulk and motion, do we not at first
sight almost, even without making trial, seem to _feel_ when a leaver
of any kind is too weak, or not long enough to make such or such a
purchase? or when a spring is not sufficient? and don't we find by
experience what weight, or dimension should be given, or taken away, on
this or that account? if so, as the general as well as particular bulks
of form, are made up of materials moulded together under mechanical
directions, for some known purpose or other; how naturally, from these
considerations, shall we fall into a judgment of _fit proportion_;
which is one part of beauty to the mind tho' not always so to the eye.
Our necessities have taught us to mould matter into various shapes,
and to give them fit proportions for particular uses, as bottles,
glasses, knives, dishes, &c. Hath not offence given rise to the
form of the sword, and defence to that of the shield? And what else
but proper fitness of parts hath fix'd the different dimensions of
pistols, muskets, great guns, fowling-pieces and blunderbusses; which
differences as to figure, may as properly be called the different
characters of fire-arms, as the different shapes of men are called
characters of men.
We find also that the profuse variety of shapes, which present
themselves from the whole animal creation, arise chiefly from the
nice fitness of their parts, designed for accomplishing the peculiar
movements of each.
And here I think will be the proper place to speak of a most curious
difference between the living machines of nature, in respect of
fitness, and such poor ones, in comparison with them, as men are only
capable of making; by means of which distinction, I am in hopes of
shewing what particularly constitutes the utmost beauty of proportion
in the human figure.
A clock, by the government's order, has been made, and another
now making, by Mr. Harrison, for the keeping of true time at sea;
which perhaps is one of the most exquisite movements ever made.
Happy the ingenious contriver! although the form of the whole, or of
every part of this curious machine, should be ever so confused, or
displeasingly shaped to the eye; and although even its movements should
be disagreeable to look at, provided it answers the end proposed. An
ornamental composition was no part of his scheme, otherwise than as
a pollish might be necessary. If ornaments are required to be added
to mend its shape, care must be taken that they are no obstruction to
the movement itself, and the more as they would be superfluous, as to
the main design.--But in nature's machines, how wonderfully do we see
beauty and use go hand in hand!
Had a machine for this purpose been nature's work, the whole and every
individual part would have had exquisite beauty of form without danger
of destroying the exquisiteness of its motion, even as if ornament had
been the sole aim; its movements too would have been graceful, without
one superfluous tittle added for either of these lovely purposes.--Now
this is that curious difference between the fitness of nature's
machines (one of which is man) and those made by mortal hands: which
distinction is to lead us to our main point proposed; I mean, to the
shewing what constitutes the utmost beauty of proportion.
There was brought from France some years ago, a little clock-work
machine, with a duck's head and legs fixt to it, which was so contrived
as to have some resemblance of that animal standing upon one foot,
and stretching back its leg, turning its head, opening and shutting
its bill, moving its wings, and shaking its tail; all of them the
plainest and easiest directions in living movements: yet for the
poorly performing of these few motions, this silly, but much extoll'd
machine, being uncover'd, appeared a most complicated, confused, and
disagreeable object: nor would its being covered with a skin closely
adhering to its parts, as that of a real duck's doth, have much
mended its figure; at best, a bag of hob-nails, broken hinges, and
patten-rings, would have looked as well, unless by other means it had
been stuffed out to bring it into form.
Thus again you see, the more variety we pretend to give to our trifling
movements, the more confused and unornamental the forms become; nay
chance but seldom helps them.--How much the reverse are nature's! the
greater the variety her movements have, the more beautiful are the
parts that cause them.
The finny race of animals, as they have fewer motions than other
creatures, so are their forms less remarkable for beauty. It is also
to be noted of every species, that the handsomest of each move best:
birds of a clumsy make seldom fly well, nor do lumpy fish glide so well
through the water as those of a neater make; and beasts of the most
elegant form, always excel in speed; of this, the horse and greyhound
are beautiful examples: and even among themselves, the most elegantly
made seldom fail of being the swiftest.
The war-horse is more equally made for strength than the race-horse,
which surplus of power in the former, if suppos'd added to the latter,
as it would throw more weight into improper parts for the business
of mere speed, so of course it would lessen, in some degree, that
admirable quality, and partly destroy that delicate fitness of his
make; but then a quality in movement, superior to that of speed, would
be given to him by the addition, as he would be render'd thereby more
fit to move with ease in such varied, or graceful directions, as are so
delightful to the eye in the carriage of the fine manag'd war-horse;
and as at the same time, something stately and graceful would be added
to his figure, which before could only be said to have an elegant
neatness. This noble creature stands foremost among brutes; and it is
but consistent with nature's propriety, that the most useful animal in
the brute-creation, should be thus signalized also for the most beauty.
Yet, properly speaking, no living creatures are capable of moving in
such truly varied and graceful directions, as the human species; and
it would be needless to say how much superior in beauty their forms
and textures likewise are. And surely also after what has been said
relating to figure and motion, it is plain and evident that nature
has thought fit to make beauty of proportion, and beauty of movement,
necessary to each other: so that the observation before made on
animals, will hold equally good with regard to man: i. e. that he who
is most exquisitely well-proportion'd is most capable of exquisite
movements, such as ease and _grace in deportment_, or in dancing.
It may be a sort of collateral confirmation of what has been said of
this method of nature's working, as well as otherwise worth our notice,
that when any parts belonging to the human body are conceal'd, and
not immediately concern'd in movement, all such ornamental shapes, as
evidently appear in the muscles and bones[6], are totally neglected as
unnecessary, for nature doth nothing in vain! this is plainly the case
of the intestines, none of them having the least beauty, as to form,
except the _heart_; which noble part, and indeed kind of first mover,
is a simple and well-varied figure; conformable to which, some of the
most elegant Roman urns and vases have been fashion'd.
[6] See Chapter IX on Compositions with the Serpentine-line.
Now, thus much being kept in remembrance, our next step will be to
speak of, first, general measurements; such as the whole height of the
body to its breadth, or the length of a limb to its thickness: and,
secondly, of such appearances of dimensions as are too intricately
varied to admit of a description by lines.
The former will be confined to a very few straight lines, crossing each
other, which will easily be understood by everyone; but the latter
will require somewhat more attention, because it will extend to the
precision of every modification, bound, or limit, of the human figure.
To be somewhat more explicit. As to the first part, I shall begin
with shewing what practicable sort of measuring may be used in order
to produce the most proper variety in the proportions of the parts of
any body. I say, _practicable_, because the vast variety of intricately
situated parts, belonging to the human form, will not admit of
measuring the distances of one part by another, by lines or points,
beyond a certain degree or number, without great perplexity in the
operation itself, or confusion to the imagination. For instance, say, a
line representing one breadth and an half of the wrist, would be equal
to the true breadth of the thickest part of the arm above the elbow;
may it not then be ask'd, what part of the wrist is meant? for if you
place a pair of calipers a little nearer or further from the hand, the
distance of the points will differ, and so they will if they are moved
close to the wrist all round, because it is flatter one way than the
other; but suppose, for argument sake, one certain diameter should be
fix'd upon; may it not again be ask'd, how is it to be apply'd, if to
the flattest side of the arm or the roundest, and how far from the
elbow, and must it be when the arm is extended or when it is bent?
for this also will make a sensible difference, because in the latter
position, the muscle, call'd the biceps, in the front of that part of
the arm, swells up like a ball one way, and narrows itself another; nay
all the muscles shift their appearances in different movements, so that
whatever may have been pretended by some authors, no exact mathematical
measurements by lines, can be given for the true proportion of a human
body.
[Illustration: Figs. 68 and 55]
It comes then to this, that no longer than whilst we suppose all
the lengths and breadths of the body, or limbs, to be as regular
figures as cylinders, or as the leg, figure 68 in plate I, which is
as round as a rolling-stone, are the measures of lengths to breadths
practicable, or of any use to the knowledge of proportion: so that as
all mathematical schemes are foreign to this purpose, we will endeavour
to root them quite out of our way: therefore I must not omit taking
notice, that Albert Durer, Lomazzo, (see two tasteless figures taken
from their books of proportion [Fig. 55 p. I]) and some others, have
not only puzzled mankind with a heap of minute unnecessary divisions,
but also with a strange _notion_ that those divisions are govern'd by
the laws of music; which mistake they seem to have been led into, by
having seen certain uniform and consonant divisions upon one string
produce harmony to the ear, and by persuading themselves, that similar
distances in lines belonging to form, would, in like manner, delight
the eye. The very reverse of which has been shewn to be true, in
Chapter III, on Uniformity. "The length of the foot," say they, "in
respect to the breadth, makes a _double suprabipartient_, a _diapason_,
and a _diatesseron_[7]:" which, in my opinion, would have been full as
applicable to the ear, or to a plant, or to a tree, or any other form
whatsoever; yet these sort of _notions_ have so far prevail'd by time,
that the words, _harmony of parts_, seem as applicable to form, as to
music.
[7] Note, these authors assure you, that this curious method of
measuring, _will produce beauty far beyond any nature doth afford_.
Lomazzo, recommends also another scheme, with a triangle, to
correct the _poverty of nature_, as they express themselves. These
_nature-menders_ put one in mind of Gulliver's tailor at Laputa,
who, having taken measure of him for a suit of clothes, with a rule,
quadrant, and compasses, after a considerable time spent, brought them
home ill-made.
Notwithstanding the absurdity of the above schemes, such measures
as are to be taken from antique statues, may be of some service to
painters and sculptors, especially to young beginners, but nothing nigh
of such use to them, as the measures, taken the same way, from ancient
buildings, have been, and are, to architects and builders; because the
latter have to do with little else but plain geometrical figures: which
measures, however, serve only in copying what has been done before.
The few measures I shall speak of, for the setting out the general
dimensions of a figure, shall be taken by straight lines only, for the
more easy conception of what may indeed be properly call'd, _gaging the
contents of the body_, supposing it solid like a marble statue, as the
wires were described to do [Fig. 2 p. I] in the introduction: by which
plain method, clear ideas may be acquir'd of what _alone_ seem to me to
require measuring, of what certain lengths to what breadths make the
most eligible proportions in general.
[Illustration: Fig. 2]
The most general dimensions of a body, or limbs, are lengths,
breadths, or thicknesses: now the whole gentility of a figure,
according to its character, depends upon the first proportioning these
lines or wires (which are its measures) properly one to another; and
the more varied these lines are, with respect to each other, the more
may the future divisions be varied likewise, that are to be made
on them; and of course the less varied these lines are, the parts
influenced by them, as they must conform themselves to them, must have
less variety too. For example, the exact cross [Fig. 69 R p. II] of two
equal lines, cutting each other in the middle, would confine the figure
of a man, drawn conformable to them, to the disagreeable character
of his being as broad as he is long. And the two lines crossing each
other, to make the height and breadth of a figure, will want variety
a contrary way, by one line being very short in proportion to the
other, and therefore, also incapable of producing a figure of tolerable
variety. To prove this, it will be very easy for the reader to make
the experiment, by drawing a figure or two (tho' ever so imperfectly)
confin'd within such limits.
[Illustration: Fig. 69]
There is a medium between these, proper for every character, which the
eye will easily and accurately determine.
[Illustration: Fig. 70]
Thus, if the lines, fig. [70 R p. II], were to be the measure of the
extreme length and breadth, set out either for the figure of a man or a
vase, the eye soon sees the longest of these is not quite sufficiently
so, in proportion to the other, for a genteel man; and yet it would
make a vase too taper to be elegant; no rule or compasses would decide
this matter either so quickly or so precisely as a good eye. It may be
observed, that minute differences in great lengths, are of little or
no consequence as to proportion, because they are not to be discerned;
for a man is half an inch shorter when he goes to bed at night, than
when he rises in the morning, without the possibility of its being
perceived. In case of a wager the application of a rule or compasses
may be necessary, but seldom on any other occasion.
Thus much I apprehend is sufficient for the consideration of general
lengths to breadths. Where, by the way, I apprehend I have plainly
shewn, that there is no practicable rule, by lines, for minutely
setting out proportions _for_ the human body, and if there were, the
eye alone must determine us in our choice of what is most pleasing to
itself.
Thus having dispatch'd general dimension, which we may say is almost
as much of proportion, as is to be seen when we have our cloaths on: I
shall in the second, and more extensive method proposed for considering
it, set out in the familiar path of common observation, and appeal as I
go on to our usual feeling, or joint-sensation, of figure and motion.