Beauty Part 12

To Burke, who wrote at a later period, it falls to my lot to reply at greater length.

"To examine this point concerning the effect of tragedy in a proper manner," says that writer, "we must previously consider how we are affected by the feelings of our fellow-creatures in circ.u.mstances of real distress. I am convinced we have a degree of delight, and that no small one, in the real misfortunes and pains of others; for, let the affection be what it will in appearance, if it does not make us shun such objects, if on the contrary it induces us to approach them, if it makes us dwell upon them, in this case I conceive we must have a delight or pleasure of some species or other in contemplating objects of this kind.... Our delight in cases of this kind is very greatly heightened, if the sufferer be some excellent person who sinks under an unworthy fortune.... The delight we have in such things hinders us from shunning scenes of misery; and the pains we feel, prompt us to relieve ourselves, in relieving those who suffer.... In imitated distress, the only difference is the pleasure resulting from the effects of imitation."

A more monstrous doctrine than this was never perhaps enunciated. A very little a.n.a.lysis will expose its fallacy.

In relation to events of this kind, there are three very distinct cases--real occurrence, subsequent inspection or historical narration, and dramatic representation; in each, the affection of the mind is very different; and nearly all the errors on this subject seem to have occurred from confounding them. Burke has done this in the greatest degree.

The real occurrence of unmerited suffering is beheld with no delight, but with unmixed pain, by every well-const.i.tuted mind. Hume,[22] therefore, justly observes, that "the same object of distress, which pleases in a tragedy, were it really set before us, would give the most unfeigned uneasiness." It is only by confounding this with the next case, of subsequent inspection or historical narration, that Burke gets into error here.

"We do not," says Burke, "sufficiently distinguish what we would by no means choose to do [or _to see done_--he should have added] from what we should be eager enough to see if it was once done. We delight in seeing things [_after they are done_--he should have added], which, so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be to see redressed."

That the additions I have made, more truly state the case, seems as evident, as it is, that they afford a very different conclusion from Burke's, of our beholding unmerited suffering with delight. But he himself proves this by the very instance which he gives in ill.u.s.tration of his doctrine.

"This n.o.ble capital," he says, "the pride of England and of Europe, I believe _no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed_ by a conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to the greatest distance from the danger. But _suppose such a fatal accident to have happened_, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the ruins, and among them many who would have been content never to have seen London in its glory!"

Here the words which I have put in italics clearly show that I was right in the additions I suggested in his previous statement, and that he there confounded delight in seeing the infliction of unmerited suffering, with delight in seeing it after infliction, or of seeing it historically narrated; for, in this his ill.u.s.tration, it is the latter, and not the former, that he supposes--nay he now says "no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed!" &c. Indeed, it is quite plain that, supposing an attempt made to destroy London, so far would every one be from being delighted to see it done, that he would eagerly prevent it.

There is here, therefore, on the part of this writer, only his common and characteristic confusion of ideas.

"Choose a day," he says, "on which to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint the most favorite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and decorations; unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting, and music; and when you have collected your audience, just at the moment when their minds are erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state-criminal, of high rank, is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the real sympathy."

This presents only another instance of want of discrimination. If the "state-criminal, of high rank," were not a real criminal--if he were an unmerited sufferer, the place of execution, supposing his rescue impossible, would a.s.suredly be fled from by every person of feeling and honor; as we read of in the public papers, lately, when a murder of that kind was perpetrating by some one of the base little jailor-princes of Germany. And we know that, in the case of legal perpetrations of that kind in England, even upon real criminals, none but the most degraded wretches go to witness such scenes.

In tragic representation, then, we know that the suffering is not real, else should we fly. There have, indeed, in such cases, been instances of a sort of momentary deception, but it is only children, and very simple people, utter strangers to theatrical amus.e.m.e.nts, who are apt to be so deceived; and as their case always excites the surprise and laughter of every one, it clearly proves that others are under no sort of deception.

Even Burke, notwithstanding his want of discrimination, and his monstrous hypothesis, says: "Imitated distress is never so perfect, but we can perceive it is imitation, and on that principle are somewhat pleased with it." And his case of desertion of the theatre, if it occur under any circ.u.mstances, ill.u.s.trates this.

Burke adds, indeed: "But then I imagine we shall be much _mistaken_ if we attribute any considerable part of our satisfaction in tragedy to the consideration that tragedy is _a deceit_, and its representations _no realities_. [We seek no satisfaction of the kind: we know it to be a deceit throughout!] The nearer it approaches the reality, and the farther it removes us from all idea of fiction, the more perfect is its power."

The nearest possible _approach_ to reality, is only necessary to the success of fiction, to the pleasure of imagination. He himself has said: "Imitated distress is never so perfect, but we can perceive it is imitation!" Again, therefore, here is only Burke's characteristic confusion of ideas.

My own doctrine on this subject is already obvious from the remarks made on others. _We never cease to know that tragic representation is a mere deception; our reason is never imposed upon; our imagination is alone engaged; we are perfectly conscious that it is so; and we have all the sensibility, fine feeling, and generosity of pity, as well as the satisfaction of being thereby raised wonderfully in our own esteem, at the small cost of three s.h.i.+llings!_

It is not a little curious, that this should not have been evident to those who have written so much about it. Dr. Campbell, alone, has approached it. "So great," he says, "is the anomaly which sometimes displays itself in human characters, that it is not impossible to find persons who are quickly made to cry at seeing a tragedy, or reading a romance, which they know to be fictions, and yet are both inattentive and unfeeling in respect of the actual objects of compa.s.sion who live in their neighborhood, and are daily under their eye.... Men may be of a selfish, contracted, and even avaricious disposition, who are not what we should denominate hard-hearted, or unsusceptible of sympathetic feeling. Such will gladly enjoy the luxury of pity (as Hawkesworth terms it) when it nowise interferes with their more powerful pa.s.sions; that is, when it comes unaccompanied with a demand upon their pockets."--This should have led him to the simple truth, and should have prevented his framing the most confused, unintelligible, and worthless hypothesis upon this subject.

CHAPTER VII.

ANATOMICAL AND PHYSIOLOGICAL PRINCIPLES.

To any inquiry respecting the beauty of woman, the replies are, in general, various, inconsistent, or contradictory. The a.s.sertion might, therefore, appear to be true, that, even under the same climate, beauty is not always the same.

Our vague perceptions, however, and our vague expressions respecting beauty, will be found to be, in a great measure, owing to the inaccuracy of our mode of examining it, and, in some measure, to the imperfect nomenclature which we possess for describing it.

Beauty, and even true taste, respecting it, are always the same; but, in the first place, we observe beauty partially and imperfectly; and in the second place, our actual preferences are dependant on our particular wants, and will be found to differ only because these wants differ in every individual, and even in the same individual at different periods of life.

The laws regulating beauty in woman, and taste respecting it in man, have not been attempted to be explained, except in the worthless work alluded to in the advertis.e.m.e.nt. Yet nothing perhaps is more universally interesting.

As, in this view, the kinds of beauty demand the first and chief attention, the following ill.u.s.trations are necessary:--

We observe a woman possessing one species of beauty:--Her face is generally oblong; her neck is rather long and tapering: her shoulders, without being angular, are sufficiently broad and definite; her bosom is of moderate dimensions; her waist, remarkable for fine proportion, resembles in some respects an inverted cone; her haunches are moderately expanded; her thighs, proportional; her arms, as well as her limbs, are rather long and tapering; her hands and feet are moderately small; her complexion is often rather dark; and her hair is frequently abundant, dark, and strong.--The whole figure is precise, striking, and brilliant.

Yet, has she few or none of the qualities of the succeeding species.

We observe, next, another species of beauty:--Her face is generally round; her eyes are generally of the softest azure; her neck is often rather short; her shoulders are softly rounded, and owe any breadth they may possess rather to the expanded chest, than to the size of the shoulders themselves; her bosom, in its luxuriance, seems laterally to protrude on the s.p.a.ce occupied by the arms; her waist, though sufficiently marked, is, as it were, encroached on by the enbonpoint of all the contiguous parts; her haunches are greatly expanded; her thighs are large in proportion; but her limbs and arms, tapering and becoming delicate, terminate in feet and hands which, compared with the ample trunk, are peculiarly small; her complexion has the rose and lily so exquisitely blended, that we are surprised it should defy the usual operation of the elements; and she boasts a luxuriant profusion of soft and fine flaxen or auburn hair.--The whole figure is soft and voluptuous in the extreme. Yet has she not the almost measured proportions and the brilliant air of the preceding species; nor has she the qualities of the succeeding one.

We observe, then, a beauty of a third species:--Her face is generally oval; her high and pale forehead announces the intellectuality of her character; her intensely expressive eye is full of sensibility; in her lower features, modesty and dignity are often united; she has not the expanded bosom, the general embonpoint, or the beautiful complexion, of the second species; and she boasts easy and graceful motion, rather than the elegant proportion of the first.--The whole figure is characterized by intellectuality and grace.

Such are the three species of beauty of which all the rest are varieties.

Now, as it is in general one only of these species which characterizes any one woman, and as each of these species is suited to the wants of, and is consequently agreeable to, a different individual, it is obvious why the common vague reports of the beauty of any woman are always so various, inconsistent, or contradictory.

In the more accurate study of this subject, it is indispensable that the reader should understand the scientific principles on which the preceding brief a.n.a.lysis of female beauty, as reducible to three species, is founded.

To attain this knowledge, and to acquire facility in the art of distinguis.h.i.+ng and judging of beauty in woman, a little general knowledge of anatomy is absolutely essential. The writer begs, therefore, attention to the following sketch. It may not at first seem interesting to the general reader; but it is the sole basis of a scientific knowledge of female beauty; the study of it during one hour is sufficient to apprehend it in all its bearings; and it will obviate every future difficulty.

In viewing the human organs in a general manner, a cla.s.s of these organs at once obtrudes itself upon our notice, from its consisting of an apparatus of levers, from its performing motion from place to place or locomotion, and from these motions being of the most obvious kind.--A little more observation presents to us another cla.s.s, which is distinguished from the preceding by its consisting of cylindrical tubes, by its transmitting and trans.m.u.ting liquids, performing vascular action or nutrition, and by its motions being barely apparent.--Farther investigation discovers a third, which differs essentially from both these, in its consisting of nervous particles, in its transmitting impressions from external objects, performing nervous action or thought, and in that action being altogether invisible.

Thus, each of these cla.s.ses of organs is distinguished from another by the structure of its parts, by the purposes which it serves, and by the greater or less obviousness of its motions.

The first consists of levers; the second, of cylindrical tubes; and the third, of nervous particles. The first performs motion from place to place or locomotion; the second transmits and trans.m.u.tes liquids, performing vascular action or nutrition; and the third transmits impressions from external objects, performing nervous action or thought. The motion of the first is extremely obvious; that of the second is barely apparent; and that of the third is altogether invisible.

Not one of them can be confounded with another: for, considering their purposes only, it is evident that that which performs locomotion, neither transmits liquids nor sensations; that which transmits liquids, neither performs locomotion nor is the means of sensibility; and that which is the means of sensibility, neither performs locomotion nor transmits liquids.

Now, the organs employed in locomotion are the bones, ligaments, and muscles; those employed in transmitting liquids or in nutrition, are the absorbent, circulating, and secreting vessels; and those employed about sensations or in thought, are the organs of sense, cerebrum, and cerebel, with the nerves which connect them.

The first cla.s.s of organs may, therefore, be termed locomotive, or (from their very obvious action) mechanical; the second, vascular or nutritive, or (as even vegetables, from their possessing vessels, have life) they may be termed vital; and the third may be named nervous or thinking, or (as mind results from them) mental.

The human body, then, consists of organs of three kinds. By the first kind, locomotive or mechanical action is effected; by the second, nutritive or vital action is maintained; and by the third, thinking or mental action is permitted.

Anatomy is, therefore, divided into three parts, namely, that which considers the mechanical or locomotive organs; that which considers the nutritive or vital organs; and that which considers the thinking or mental organs.

Under the mechanical or locomotive organs are cla.s.sed, first, the bones or organs of support; second, the ligaments or organs of articulation; and third, the muscles or organs of motion.

Under the nutritive or vital organs are cla.s.sed, first, the absorbent vessels or organs of absorption; second, the bloodvessels, which derive their contents from the absorbed lymph, or organs of circulation; and third, the secreting vessels, which separate various matters from the blood, or organs of secretion.[23]

Under the thinking or mental organs are cla.s.sed, first, the organs of sense, where impressions take place; second, the cerebrum or organ of thought, properly so called, where these excite ideas, emotions, and pa.s.sions; and third, the cerebel or organ of volition, where acts of the will result from the last.[24]

We may now more particularly notice the functions of these organs, which are the subject of physiology.

In the locomotive functions, the bones at once give support, and form levers for motion; the ligaments form articulations, and afford the points of support; and the muscles are the moving powers. To the first, are owing all the symmetry and elegance of human form; to the second, its beautiful flexibility; and to the third, all the brilliance and grace of motion which fancy can inspire, or skill can execute.

In the nutritive functions, the food, having pa.s.sed into the mouth, is, after mastication, aided by mixture with the saliva, thrown back, by the tongue and contiguous parts, into the cavity behind, called fauces and pharynx; this contracting, presses it into the oesophagus or gullet; this also contracting, propels it into the stomach, which, after its due digestion aided by the gastric juice, similarly contracting, transmits whatever portion of it, now called chyme, is sufficiently comminuted to pa.s.s through its lower opening, the pylorus, into the intestines; these, at the commencement of which it receives the bile and pancreatic juice, similarly pressing it on all sides, urge forward its most solid part to the a.n.u.s; while its liquid portion partly escapes from the pressure into the mouths of the absorbents. The absorbents arising by minute openings from all the internal surfaces, and continuing a similar contractile motion, transmit it, now called chyle, by all their gradually-enlarging branches, and through their general trunk, the thoracic duct, where it is blended with the lymph brought from other parts, into the great veins contiguous to the heart, where it is mixed with the venous or returning and dark-colored blood, and whence it flows into the anterior side of that organ. The anterior side of the heart, forcibly repeating this contraction, propels it, commixed with the venous blood, into the lungs, which perform the office of respiration, and in some measure of sanguification; there, giving off carbonaceous matter, and a.s.suming a vermilion hue and new vivifying properties, it flows back as arterial blood, into the posterior side of the heart. The posterior side of the heart, still similarly contracting, discharges it into the arteries; these, maintaining a like contraction, carry it over all the system; and a great portion of it, impregnated with carbon, and of a dark color, returns through the veins in order to undergo the same course. Much, however, of its gelatinous and fibrous parts is retained in the cells of the parenchyma, or cellular, vascular, and nervous substance forming the basis of the whole fabric, and const.i.tutes nutrition, properly so called; while other portions of it become entangled in the peculiarly-formed labyrinths of the glands, and form secretion and excretion--the products of the former contributing to the exercise of other functions, and those of the latter being rejected. As digestion precedes the first, so generation follows the last of these functions, and not only continues the same species of action, but propagates it widely to new existences in the manner just described.

In the thinking functions, the organs of sense receive external impressions, which excite in them sensations; the cerebrum, having these transmitted to it, performs the more complicated functions of mental operation, whence result ideas, emotions, and pa.s.sions; and the cerebel, being similarly influenced, performs the function of volition, or causes the acts of the will.

It is not unusual to consider the body as being divided into the head, the trunk, and the extremities; but, in consequence of the hitherto universal neglect of the natural arrangement of the organs and functions into locomotive, nutritive, and thinking, the beauty and interest which may be attached to this division, have equally escaped the notice of anatomists.