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Part IIISections VIII - XXVII.
Sections VIII - XXVII.
Sect. VIII.
The Recapitulation
On the whole; if such parts in human bodies as are found proportioned,
were likewise constantly found beautiful, as they certainly are not; or if
they were so situated, as that a pleasure might flow from the comparison,
which they seldom are; or if any assignable proportions were found, either in
plants or animals, which were always attended with beauty, which never was the
case; or if, where parts were well adapted to their purposes, they were
constantly beautiful, and when no use appeared, there was no beauty, which is
contrary to all experience; we might conclude, that beauty consisted in
proportion or utility. But since, in all respects, the case is quite
otherwise; we may be satisfied that beauty does not depend on these, let it
owe its origin to what else it will.
Sect. IX.
Perfection Not The Cause Of Beauty
There is another notion current, pretty closely allied to the former;
that Perfection is the constituent cause of beauty. This opinion has been made
to extend much further than to sensible objects. But in these, so far is
perfection, considered as such, from being the cause of beauty, that this
quality, where it is highest, in the female sex, almost always carries with it
an idea of weakness and imperfection. Women are very sensible of this; for
which reason; they learn to lisp, to totter in their walk, to counterfeit
weakness, and even sickness. In all they are guided by nature. Beauty in
distress is much the most affecting beauty. Blushing has little less power;
and modesty in general, which is a tacit allowance of imperfection, is itself
considered as an amiable quality, and certainly heightens every other that is
so. I know it is in everybody`s mouth, that we ought to love perfection. This
is to me a sufficient proof, that it is not the proper object of love. Who
ever said we ought to love a fine woman, or even any of these beautiful
animals which please us? Here to be affected, there is no need of the
concurrence of our will.
Sect. X.
How Far The Idea Of Beauty May Be Applied To The Qualities Of The Mind
Nor is this remark in general less applicable to the qualities of the
mind. Those virtues which cause admiration, and are of the sublimer kind,
produce terror rather than love; such as fortitude, justice, wisdom, and the
like. Never was any man amiable by force of these qualities. Those which
engage our hearts, which impress us with a sense of loveliness, are the softer
virtues; easiness of temper, compassion, kindness, and liberality; though
certainly those latter are of less immediate and momentous concern to society,
and of less dignity. But it is for that reason that they are so amiable. The
great virtues turn principally on dangers, punishments, and troubles, and are
exercised rather in preventing the worst mischiefs, than in dispensing
favours; and are therefore not lovely, though highly venerable. The
subordinate turn on reliefs, gratifications, and indulgences; and are
therefore more lovely, though inferior in dignity. Those persons who creep
into the hearts of most people, who are chosen as the companions of their
softer hours, and their reliefs from care and anxiety, are never persons of
shining qualities or strong virtues. It is rather the soft green of the soul
on which we rest our eyes, that are fatigued with beholding more glaring
objects. It is worth observing how we feel ourselves affected in reading the
characters of Caesar and Cato, as they are so finely drawn and contrasted in
Sallust. In one the ignoscendo largiundo; in the other, nil largiundo. In one,
the miseris perfugium; in the other, malis perniciem. In the latter we have
much to admire, much to reverence, and perhaps something to fear; we respect
him, but we respect him at a distance. The former makers us familiar with him;
we love him, and he leads us whither he pleases. To draw things closer to our
first and most natural feelings, I will add a remark made upon reading this
section by an ingenious friend. The authority of a father, so useful to our
well-being, and so justly venerable upon all accounts, hinders us from having
that entire love for him that we have for our mothers, where the parental
authority is almost melted down into the mother`s fondness and indulgence. But
we generally have a great love for our grandfathers, in whom this authority is
removed a degree form us, and where the weakness of age mellows it into
something of a feminine partiality.
Sect. XI.
How Far The Idea Of Beauty May Be Applied To Virtue
From what has been said in the foregoing section, we may easily see how
far the application of beauty to virtue may be made with propriety. The
general application of this quality to virtue, has a strong tendency to
confound our ideas of things; and it has given rise to an infinite deal of
whimsical theory; as the affixing the name of beauty to proportion, congruity,
and perfection, as well as to qualities of things yet more remote from our
natural ideas of it, and from one another, has tended to confound our ideas of
beauty, and left us no standard or rule to judge by, that was not even more
uncertain and fallacious than our own fancies. This loose and inaccurate
manner of speaking has therefore misled us both in the theory of taste and of
morals; and induced us to remove the science of our duties from their proper
basis, (our reason, our relations, and our necessities,) to rest it upon
foundations altogether visionary and unsubstantial.
Sect. XII.
The Real Cause of Beauty
Having endeavoured to show what beauty is not, it remains that we should
examine, at least with equal attention, in what it really consists. Beauty is
a thing much too affecting not to depend upon some positive qualities. And,
since it is no creature of our reason, since it strikes us without any
reference to use, and even where no use at all can be discerned, since the
order and method of nature is generally very different from our measures and
proportions, we must conclude that beauty is, for the greater part, some
quality in bodies acting mechanically upon the human mind by the intervention
of the senses. We ought therefore to consider attentively in what manner those
sensible qualities are disposed, in such things as by experience we find
beautiful, or which excite in us the passion of love, or some correspondent
affection.
Sect. XIII.
Beautiful Objects Small
The most obvious point that presents itself to us in examining any
object, is its extent or quantity. And what degree of extent prevails in
bodies that are held beautiful, may be gathered from the usual manner of
expression concerning it. I am told that, in most languages, the objects of
love are spoken of under diminutive epithets. It is so in all languages of
which I have any knowledge. In Greek the lwy and other diminutive terms are
almost always the terms of affection and tenderness. These diminutives were
commonly added by the Greeks to the names of persons with whom they conversed
on terms of friendship and familiarity. Though the Romans were a people of
less quick and delicate feelings, yet they naturally slid into the lessening
termination upon the same occasions. Anciently in the English language the
diminishing ling was added to the names of persons and things that were the
objects of love. Some we retain still, as darling, (or little dear,) and a few
others. But, to this day, in ordinary conversation, it is usual to add the
endearing name of little to everything we love: the French and Italians make
use of these affectionate diminutives even more than we. In the animal
creation, out of our own species, it is the small we are inclined to be fond
of; little birds, and some of the smaller kinds of beasts. A great beautiful
thing is a manner of expression scarcely ever used; but that of a great ugly
thing is very common. There is a wide difference between admiration and love.
The sublime, which is the cause of the former, always dwells on great objects,
and terrible; the latter on small ones, and pleasing; we submit to what we
admire, but we love what submits to us; in one case we are forced, in the
other we are flattered, into compliance. In short, the ideas of the sublime
and the beautiful stand on foundations so different, that it is hard, I had
almost said impossible, to think of reconciling them in the same subject,
without considerably lessening the effect of the one or the other upon the
passions. So that, attending to their quantity, beautiful objects are
comparatively small.
Sect. XIV.
Smoothness
The next property constantly observable in such objects is smoothness:^1
a quality so essential to beauty, that I do not now recollect anything
beautiful that is not smooth. In trees and flowers, smooth leaves are
beautiful; smooth slopes of earth in gardens; smooth streams in the landscape;
smooth coats of birds and beasts in animal beauties; in fine women, smooth
skins; and in several sorts of ornamental furniture, smooth and polished
surfaces. A very considerable part of the effect of beauty is owing to this
quality; indeed the most considerable. For, take any beautiful object, and
give it a broken and rugged surface; and however well formed it may be in
other respects, it pleases no longer. Whereas, let it want ever so many of the
other constituents, if it wants not this, it becomes more pleasing than almost
all the others without it. This seems to me so evident, that I am a good deal
surprised, that none who have handled the subject have made any mention of the
quality of smoothness, in the enumeration of those that go to the forming of
beauty. For indeed any ruggedness, any sudden projection, any sharp angle, is
in the highest degree contrary to that idea.
[Footnote 1: Part IV. sect. 21.]
Sect. XV.
Gradual Variation
[Footnote 1: Part IV. sect. 23.]
But as perfectly beautiful bodies are not composed of angular parts, so
their parts never continue long in the same right line.^1 They vary their
direction every moment, and they change under the eye by a deviation
continually carrying on, but for whose beginning or end you will find it
difficult to ascertain a point. The view of a beautiful bird will illustrate
this observation. Here we see the head increasing insensibly to the middle,
from whence it lessens gradually until it mixes with the neck; the neck loses
itself in larger swell, which continues to the middle of the body, when the
whole decreases again to the tail; the tail takes a new direction; but it soon
varies its new course: it blends again with the other parts; and the line is
perpetually changing, above, below, upon every side. In this description I
have before me the idea of a dove; it agrees very well with most of the
conditions of beauty. It is smooth and downy; its parts are (to use that
expression) melted into one another; you are presented with no sudden
protuberance through the whole, and yet the whole is continually changing.
Observe that part of a beautiful woman where she is perhaps the most
beautiful, about the neck and breasts; the smoothness; the softness; the easy
and insensible swell; the variety of the surface, which is never for the
smallest space the same; the deceitful maze, through which the unsteady eye
slides giddily, without knowing where to fix or whither it is carried. Is not
this a demonstration of that change of surface, continual, and yet hardly
perceptible at any point, which forms one of the great constituents of beauty?
It gives me no small pleasure to find that I can strengthen my theory in this
point, by the opinion of the very ingenious Mr. Hogarth; whose idea of the
line of beauty I take in general to be extremely just. But the idea of
variation, without attending so accurately to the manner of the variation, has
led him to consider angular figures as beautiful: these figures, it is true,
vary greatly; yet they vary in a sudden and broken manner; and I do not find
any natural object which is angular, and at the same time beautiful. Indeed
few natural objects are entirely angular. But I think those which approach the
most nearly to it are the ugliest. I must add too, that, so far as I could
observe of nature, though the varied line is that alone in which complete
beauty is found, yet there is no particular line which is always found in the
most completely beautiful, and which is therefore beautiful in preference to
all other lines. At least I never could observe it.
Sect. XVI.
Delicacy
An air of robustness and strength is very prejudicial to beauty. An
appearance of delicacy, and even of fragility, is almost essential to it.
Whoever examines the vegetable or animal creation will find this observation
to be founded in nature. It is not the oak, the ash, or the elm, or any of the
robust trees of the forest, which we consider as beautiful; they are awful and
majestic; they inspire a sort of reverence. It is the delicate myrtle, it is
the orange, it is the almond, it is the jasmine, it is the vine, which we look
on as vegetable beauties. It is the flowery species, so remarkable for its
weakness and momentary duration, that gives us the liveliest idea of beauty
and elegance. Among animals, the greyhound is more beautiful than the mastiff;
and the delicacy of a gennet, a barb, or an Arabian horse, is much more
amiable than the strength and stability of some horses of war or carriage. I
need here say little of the fair sex, where I believe the point will be easily
allowed me. The beauty of women is considerably owing to their weakness or
delicacy, and is even enhanced by their timidity, a quality of mind analogous
to it. I would not here be understood to say, that weakness betraying very bad
health has any share in beauty; but the ill effect of this is not because it
is weakness, but because the ill state of health, which produces such
weakness, alters the other conditions of beauty; the parts in such a case
collapse; the bright color, the lumen purpureum juventae, is gone; and the
fine variation is lost in wrinkles, sudden breaks, and right lines.
Sect. XVII.
Beauty In Colour
As to the colours usually found in beautiful bodies, it may be somewhat
difficult to ascertain them, because, in the several parts of nature, there is
an infinite variety. However, even in this variety, we may mark out something
on which to settle. First, the colours of beautiful bodies must not be dusky
or muddy, but clean and fair. Secondly, they must not be of the strongest
kind. Those which seem most appropriated to beauty, are the milder of every
sort; light greens; soft blues; weak whites; pink reds; and violets. Thirdly,
if the colours be strong and vivid, they are always diversified, and the
object is never of one strong colour; there are almost always such a number of
them, (as in variegated flowers,) that the strength and glare of each is
considerably abated. In a fine complexion, there is not only some variety in
the colouring, but the colours: neither the red nor the white are strong and
glaring. Besides, they are mixed in such a manner, and with such gradations,
that it is impossible to fix the bounds. On the same principle it is, that the
dubious colour in the necks and tails of peacocks, and about the heads of
drakes, is so very agreeable. In reality, the beauty both of shape and
colouring are as nearly related, as we can well suppose it possible for things
of such different natures to be.
Sect. XVIII.
Recapitulation
On the whole, the qualities of beauty, as they are merely sensible
qualities, are the following: First, to be comparatively small. Secondly, to
be smooth. Thirdly, to have a variety in the direction of the parts; but,
fourthly, to have those parts not angular, but melted as it were into each
other. Fifthly, to be of a delicate frame, without any remarkable appearance
of strength. Sixthly, to have its colours clear and bright, but not very
strong and glaring. Seventhly, or if it should have any glaring colour, to
have it diversified with others. These are, I believe, the properties on which
beauty depends; properties that operate by nature, and are less liable to be
altered by caprice, or confounded by a diversity of tastes, than any other.
Sect. XIX.
The Physiognomy
The physiognomy has a considerable share in beauty, especially in that of
our own species. The manners give a certain determination to the countenance;
which, being observed to correspond pretty regularly with them, is capable of
joining the effect of certain agreeable qualities of the mind to those of the
body. So that to form a finished human beauty, and to give it its full
influence, the face must be expressive of such gentle and amiable qualities as
correspond with the softness, smoothness, and delicacy of the outward form.
Sect. XX.
The Eye
I Have hitherto purposely omitted to speak of the eye, which has so great
a share in the beauty of the animal creation, as it did not fall so easily
under the foregoing heads, though in fact it is reducible to the same
principles. I think, then, that the beauty of the eye consists, first, in its
clearness; what coloured eye shall please most, depends a good deal on
particular fancies; but none are pleased with an eye whose water (to use that
term) is dull and muddy.^1 We are pleased with the eye in this view, on the
principle upon which we like diamonds, clear water, glass, and such like
transparent substances. Secondly, the motion of the eye contributes to its
beauty, by continually shifting its direction; but a slow and languid motion
is more beautiful than a brisk one; the latter is enlivening; the former
lovely. Thirdly, with regard to the union of the eye with the neighbouring
parts, it is to hold the same rule that is given of other beautiful ones; it
is not to make a strong deviation from the line of the neighbouring parts; nor
to verge into any exact geometrical figure. Besides all this, the eye affects,
as it is expressive of some qualities of the mind, and its principal power
generally arises from this; so that what we have just said of the physiognomy
is applicable here.
Sect. XXI.
Ugliness
It may perhaps appear like a sort of repetition of what we have before
said, to insist here upon the nature of ugliness; as I imagine it to be in all
respects the opposite to those qualities which we have laid down for the
constituents of beauty. But though ugliness be the opposite to beauty, it is
not the opposite to proportion and fitness. For it is possible that a thing
may be very ugly with any proportions, and with a perfect fitness to any uses.
Ugliness I imagine likewise to be consistent enough with an idea of the
sublime. But I would by no means insinuate that ugliness of itself is a
sublime idea, unless united with such qualities as excite a strong terror.
[Footnote 1: Part IV. sect. 25.]
Sect. XXII.
Grace
Gracefulness is an idea not very different from beauty; it consists of
much the same things. Gracefulness is an idea belonging to posture and motion.
In both these, to be graceful, it is requisite that there be no appearance of
difficulty; there is required a small inflection of the body; and a
composure of the parts in such a manner, as not to encumber each other, not to
appear divided by sharp and sudden angles. In this ease, this roundness, this
delicacy of attitude and motion, it is that all the magic of grace consists,
and what is called its je ne scai quoi; as will be obvious to any observer,
who considers attentively the Venus de Medicis, the Antinous, or any statue
generally allowed to be graceful in a high degree.
Sect. XXIII.
Elegance And Speciousness
When any body is composed of parts smooth and polished without pressing
upon each other, without showing any ruggedness or confusion, and at the same
time affecting some regular shape, I call it elegant. It is closely allied to
the beautiful, differing from it only in this regularity; which, however, as
it makes a very material difference in the affection produced, may very well
constitute another species. Under this head I rank those delicate and regular
works of art, that imitate no determinate object in nature, as elegant
buildings, and pieces of furniture. When any object partakes of the
above-mentioned qualities, or of those of beautiful bodies, and is withal of
great dimensions, it is full as remote from the idea of mere beauty; I call it
fine or specious.
Sect. XXIV.
The Beautiful In Feeling
The foregoing description of beauty, so far as it is taken in by the eye,
may be greatly illustrated by describing the nature of objects, which produce
a similar effect through the touch. This I call the beautiful in Feeling. It
corresponds wonderfully with what causes the same species of pleasure to the
sight. There is a chain in all our sensations; they are all but different
sorts of feelings calculated to be affected by various sorts of objects, but
all to be affected after the same manner. All bodies that are pleasant to the
touch, are so by the slightness of the resistance they make. Resistance is
either to motion along the surface, or to the pressure of the parts on one
another: if the former be slight, we call the body smooth; if the latter,
soft. The chief pleasure we receive by feeling, is in the one or the other of
these qualities; and if there be a combination of both, our pleasure is
greatly increased. This is so plain, that it is rather more fit to illustrate
other things, than to be illustrated itself by an example. The next source of
pleasure in this sense, as in every other, is the continually presenting
somewhat new; and we find that bodies which continually vary their surface,
are much the most pleasant or beautiful to the feeling, as any one that
pleases may experience. The third property in such objects is, that though
the surface continually varies its direction, it never varies it suddenly. The
application of anything sudden, even though the impression itself have little
or nothing of violence, is disagreeable. The quick application of a finger a
little warmer or colder than usual, without notice, makes us start; a slight
tap on the shoulder, not expected, has the same effect. Hence it is that
angular bodies, bodies that suddenly vary the direction of the outline, afford
so little pleasure to the feeling. Every such change is a sort of climbing or
falling in miniature; so that squares, triangles, and other angular figures,
are neither beautiful to the sight nor feeling. Whoever compares his state of
mind, on feeling soft, smooth, variegated, unangular bodies, with that in
which he finds himself, on the view of a beautiful object, will perceive a
very striking analogy in the effects of both; and which may go a good way
towards discovering their common cause. Feeling and sight, in this respect,
differ in but a few points. The touch takes in the pleasure of softness, which
is not primarily an object of sight; the sight, on the other hand, comprehends
colour, which can hardly be made perceptible to the touch; the touch, again,
has the advantage in a new idea of pleasure resulting from a moderate degree
of warmth; but the eye triumphs in the infinite extent and multiplicity of its
objects. But there is such a similitude in the pleasures of these senses, that
I am apt to fancy, if it were possible that one might discern colour by
feeling, (as it is said some blind men have done,) that the same colours, and
the same disposition of colouring, which are found beautiful to the sight,
would be found likewise most grateful to the touch. But, setting aside
conjectures, let us pass to the other sense; of Hearing.
Sect. XXV.
The Beautiful In Sounds
In this sense we find an equal aptitude to be affected in a soft and
delicate manner; and how far sweet or beautiful sounds agree with our
descriptions of beauty in other senses, the experience of every one must
decide. Milton has described this species of music in one of his juvenile
poems.^1 I need not say that Milton was perfectly well versed in that art; and
that no man had a finer ear, with a happier manner of expressing the
affections of one sense by metaphors taken from another. The description is as
follows:
-And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs;
In notes with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out;
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.
Let us parallel this with the softness, the winding surface, the unbroken
continuance, the easy gradation of the beautiful in other things; and all the
diversities of the several senses, with all their several affections, will
rather help to throw lights from one another to finish one clear, consistent
idea of the whole, than to obscure it by their intricacy and variety.
[Footnote 1: L`Allegro.]
[Footnote 2: I ne`er am merry, when I hear sweet music. - Shakespeare.]
To the above-mentioned description I shall add one or two remarks. The
first is; that the beautiful in music will not bear that loudness and strength
of sounds, which may be used to raise other passions; nor notes which are
shrill, or harsh, or deep; it agrees best with such as are clear, even,
smooth, and weak. The second is; that great variety, and quick transitions
from one measure or tone to another, are contrary to the genius of the
beautiful in music. Such transitions^2 often excite mirth, or other sudden and
tumultuous passions; but not that sinking, that melting, that languor, which
is the characteristical effect of the beautiful as it regards every sense. The
passion excited by beauty is in fact nearer to a species of melancholy, than
to jollity and mirth. I do not here mean to confine music to any one species
of notes, or tones, neither is it an art in which I can say I have any great
skill. My sole design in this remark is, to settle a consistent idea of
beauty. The infinite variety of the affections of the soul will suggest to a
good head, and skilful ear, a variety of such sounds as are fitted to raise
them. It can be no prejudice to this, to clear and distinguished some few
particulars, that belong to the same class, and are consistent with each
other, from the immense crowd of different, and sometimes contradictory,
ideas, that rank vulgarly under the standard of beauty. And of these it is my
intention to mark such only of the leading points as show the conformity of
the sense of Hearing with all the other senses, in the article of their
pleasures.
Sect. XXVI.
Taste And Smell
This general agreement of the senses is yet more evident on minutely
considering those of taste and smell. We metaphorically apply the idea of
sweetness to sights and sounds; but as the qualities of bodies, by which they
are fitted to excite either pleasure or pain in these senses,are not so
obvious as they are in the others, we shall refer an explanation of their
analogy, which is a very close one, to that part, wherein we come to consider
the common efficient cause of beauty, as it regards all the senses. I do not
think anything better fitted to establish a clear and settled idea of visual
beauty than this way of examining the similar pleasures of other senses; for
one part is sometimes clear in one of the senses, that is more obscure in
another; and where there is a clear concurrence of all, we may with more
certainty speak of any one of them. By this means, they bear witness to each
other; nature is, as it were, scrutinized; and we report nothing of her but
what we receive from her own information.
Sect. XXVII.
The Sublime And Beautiful Compared
On closing this general view of beauty, it naturally occurs, that we
should compare it with the sublime; and in this comparison there appears a
remarkable contrast. For sublime objects are vast in their dimensions,
beautiful ones comparatively small: beauty should be smooth and polished; the
great, rugged and negligent; beauty should shun the right line, yet deviate
from it insensibly; the great in many cases loves the right line, and when
it deviates it often makes a strong deviation: beauty should not be obscure;
the great ought to be dark and gloomy: beauty should be light and delicate;
the great ought to be solid, and even massive. They are indeed ideas of a very
different nature, one being founded on pain, the other on pleasure; and
however they may vary afterwards from the direct nature of their causes, yet
these causes keep up an eternal distinction between them, a distinction never
to be forgotten by any whose business it is to affect the passions. In the
infinite variety of natural combinations, we must expect to find the qualities
of things the most remote imaginable from each other united in the same
object. We must expect also to find combinations of the same kind in the works
of art. But when we consider the power of an object upon our passions, we must
know that when anything is intended to affect the mind by the force of some
predominant property, the affection produced is like to be the more uniform
and perfect, if all the other properties or qualities of the object be of the
same nature, and tending to the same design, as the principal.
If black and white blend, soften, and unite
A thousand ways, are there no black and white?
If the qualities of the sublime and beautiful are sometimes found united,
does this prove that they are the same; does it prove that they are any way
allied; does it prove even that they are not opposite and contradictory? Black
and white may soften, may blend; but they are not therefore the same. Nor,
when they are so softened and blended with each other, or with different
colours, is the power of black as black, or of white as white, so strong as
when each stands uniform and distinguished.
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