THE CONCEPTION AND COGNIZANCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL
§ I.—Conception of the Beautiful.
The Science which treats of this.—The investigation of this topic brings us upon the domain of a science as yet comparatively new, and which, in fact, has scarcely yet assumed its place among the philosophic sciences—Æsthetics, the science of the beautiful.
Difficulty of defining.—What, then, is the beautiful?—A question that meets us at the threshold, and that has received, from different sources, answers almost as many and diverse as the writers that have undertaken its discussion. It is easy to specify instances of the beautiful without number, and of endless variety; but that is not defining it. On the contrary, it is only increasing the difficulty; for, where so many things are beautiful, and so diverse from each other, how are we to decide what is that one property which they all have in common, viz., beauty? The difficulty is to fix upon any one quality or attribute that shall pertain alike to all the objects that seem to us beautiful. A figure of speech, a statue, a star, an air from an opera, all strike us asbeautiful, all awaken in us the emotion which beauty alone can excite. But what have they in common? It were easy to fix upon something in the case of the statue, or of the star, which should account, perhaps, for the pleasure those objects afford us; but the same thing might not apply to the figure of speech, or to the musical air. It would seem almost hopeless to attempt the solution of the problem in this method. And yet theremust be, it would seem, some principle or attribute in which these various objects that we call beautiful agree, which is the secret and substance of their beauty, and the cause of that uniform effect which they all produce upon us. Philosophers have accordingly proposed various solutions of the problem, some fixing upon one thing, some upon another; and it may be instructive to glance at some of these definitions.
Some make it a Sensation.—Of those who have undertaken to define what beauty is, there are some who make it a merefeelingor sensation of the mind, and not an objective reality of any sort. It is not this, that, or the other quality of the external object, but simply a subjective emotion. It lies within us, and not without. Thus, Sir George Mackenzie describes it as "a certain degree of a certain species of pleasurable effect impressed on the mind." So also Grohman, Professor of Philosophy at Hamburg, in his treatise on æsthetic as science, defines the beautiful to be "the infinite consciousness of the reason asfeeling." As the true is the activity of reason at work asintellector knowledge, and as the good is its province when it appears aswill, so the beautiful is its activity in the domain ofsensibility. Brown, Upham, and others, among English and American writers, frequently speak of the emotion of beauty, as if beauty itself were an emotion.
Others an Association.—Closely agreeing with this class of writers, and hardly to be distinguished from it, is that which makes beauty consist in certainassociations of idea and feelingwith the object contemplated. This is thefavorite doctrine with the Scotch metaphysicians. Thus Lord Jeffrey, who has written with great clearness and force on this subject, regards beauty as dependent entirely on association, "the reflection of our own inward sensations." It is not, according to this view, a quality of the object external, but only a feeling in our own minds. Its seat is within and not without.
Theory that Beauty consists in Expression.—Of the same general class, also, are those who, with Alison, Reid, and Cousin, regard beauty as thesignorexpressionof some quality fitted to awaken pleasing emotions in us. Nothing is beautiful, say these writers, which is not thus expressive of some mental or moral quality or attribute. It is not an original and independent quality of any peculiar forms or colors, says Alison, for then we should have a definite rule for the creation of beauty. It lies ultimately in the mind, not in matter, and matter becomes beautiful only as it becomes, by analogy or association, suggestive of mental qualities. The same is substantially the ancient Platonic view. Kant, also, followed in the main by Schiller and Fichte, takes the subjective view, and makes beauty a mere play of the imagination.
All these Theories make it subjective.—Whether we regard beauty, then, as a mere emotion, or as an association of thought and feeling with the external object, or as the sign and expression of mental qualities, in either case we make it ultimately subjective, and deny its external objective reality.
Different Forms of the objective Theory.—Of those who take the opposite view, some seek for the hidden principle of beauty innovelty; others, as Galen and Marmontel, inutility; others, as Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Hogarth, in the principle ofunity in variety; others, in that oforder and proportion, as Aristotle, Augustine, Crousez.
All these writers, while they admit the existence of beauty in the external object, make it to consist in some quality or conformation of matter, as such.
The spiritual Theory.—There is still another theory of the beautiful, which, while admitting its external objective reality, seeks to divest it of that material nature in which the writers last named present it, and searches for its essence among principles ethereal and spiritual. According to this view beauty is thespiritual life in its immediate sensible manifestation; the hidden, invisible principle—spirit in distinction from matter, animating, manifesting itself in, looking out through, the material form. It is not matter as such, it is not spirit as such, much less a mere mental quality or mental feeling; it is the expression of the invisible and spiritual under sensible material forms. This view was first fully developed by Schelling and Hegel, and is adopted, in the main, by Jouffroy in his Cours d'Esthetique, by Dr. August Ruhlert, of the university of Breslau, in his able system of æsthetics, and by many other philosophical writers of distinction in Europe.
Questions for Consideration.—The following questions grow out of these various and conflicting definitions, as presenting the real points at issue, and, as such, requiring investigation.
I. Is beauty something objective, or merely subjective and emotional?
II. If the former, then what is it in the object that constitutes its beauty?
I.Question stated.—Is beauty merely subjective, an emotion of our own minds, or is it a quality of objects? When we speak,e. g., of the beauty of a landscape, or of a painting, do we mean merely a certain excitement of our sensitive nature, a certain feeling awakened by the object, or do we mean some quality or property belonging to that object? If the latter, then are wecorrectin attributing any such quality to the object?
Emotion admitted.—Unquestionably, certain pleasing emotions are awakened in the mind in view of certain objects which we term beautiful; unquestionably those objects arethe cause or occasion of such emotions; they have, under favorable circumstances, the power of producing them; unquestionably they have this power by virtue, moreover, of some quality or property pertaining to them. All this will be admitted by those who deny the objective reality of beauty. The question is not, whether there is in the object any quality which is the occasion or cause of our emotion, but whether the term beauty is properly the name of that cause, or of the emotion it produces.
Beauty not an Emotion.—The question would seem a very plain one if submitted to common sense. It would seem strange that any one should deliberately and intelligently take the position that beauty and sublimity are merely emotions of our minds, and not qualities of objects: when we hear men speaking in this way, we are half inclined to suspect that we misunderstand them, or that they misunderstand themselves. I look upon a gorgeous sunset, and call it beautiful. What is it that is beautiful? That sky, that cloud, that coloring, those tints that fade into each other and change even as I behold them, those lines of fire that lie in brilliant relief upon the darker background, as if some radiant angel had thrown aside his robe of light as he flew, or had left his smile upon the cloud as he passed through the golden gates of Hesperus, these, these, are beautiful;therelies the beauty, and surely not in me, the beholder. An emotion is in my mind, but that emotion is not beauty; it is simpleadmiration,i. e., wonder and delight. There is no such emotion as beauty, common as is the ambiguous expression "emotion of beauty." There are emotions of fear, hope, joy, sorrow, and the like, and these emotions I experience; I know what they mean; but I am not conscious of having ever experienced an emotion ofbeauty, though I have often been filled with wonder and delight at the sight of the beautiful in nature or art. When I experience an emotion of fear, of hope, of joy, or of sorrow, what is it that is joyful or sorrowful, hopeful or fearful? My mind, ofcourse, that is, I, myself. The object that occasions the emotion on my part, is in no other sense fearful or joyful than as it is the occasion of my being so. If, in like manner, beauty is an emotion, and I experience that emotion, it is, of course, my mind that is beautiful, and not the object contemplated. It is I, myself, that am beautiful, not the sunset, the painting, the landscape, or any thing of that sort, whatever. These things are merely the occasion ofmybeing beautiful. Could any doctrine be more consoling to those who are conscious of any serious deficiency on the score of personal attractions! Can any thing be more absurd?
The common View correct.—I beg leave to take the common sense view of this question, which I cannot but think is, in the present instance, the most correct, and still to think and speak of the beauty ofobjects, and not of our own minds. Such is certainly the ordinary acceptation and use of the term, nor can any reason be shown why, in strictest philosophy, we should depart from it. There is no need of applying the term to denote the emotion awakened in the mind, for that emotion is not, in itself, either a new or a nameless one, but simply that mingled feeling of wonder and delight which we call admiration, and which passes, it may be, into love. To make beauty itself an emotion, is to be guilty of a double absurdity. It is to leave the quality of the object which gives rise to the emotion altogether without a name, and bestow that name where it is not needed, on that which has already a name of its own.
Beauty still objective, though reflected from the Mind.—If to this it be replied, that the beauty which we admire and whichseemsto be a property of the external object, is, nevertheless, of internal origin, being merely a transfer to the object, and association with it, of certain thoughts and feelings of our own minds, a reflection of our own consciousness gilding and lighting up the objects around us, which objects are then viewed by us as having a light and beautyof their own, I answer, that even on this supposition, the external object, as thus illumined, has the power of awakening the pleasing emotion within us, and that power is its beauty, a property or quality of the object still, although borrowed originally from the mind; just as the moon, though it give but a reflected light, still shines, and with a beauty of its own. So long as those thoughts and feelings lay hidden in the mind, untransferred, unassociated with the external object, they were notbeauty. Not until the object is invested with them, and they have become a property of that object, do they assume, to the mental eye, the quality of beauty. So, then, beauty is even still an objective reality, something that lies without us, and not within us.
The Power of expressing an objective Quality, likewise.—In like manner, if it be contended that beauty is only the sign and expression of mental qualities, I reply, that power of signifying or expressing is certainly a property of the object, and that property is its beauty, and is certainly a thing objective, and not a mere emotion.
All Beauty not Reflection, nor Expression.—I am far from conceding, however, that all beauty is either the reflection or expression of what passes within the mind. There are objects which no play of the fancy, no transfer or association of the mental states, can ever render beautiful; while, on the other hand, there are others which require no such association, but of themselves shine forth upon us with their own clear and lustrous beauty. Suppose a child of lively sensibility, and with that true love of the beautiful, wherever discerned, which is one of the finest traits of the child's nature, to look for the first time upon the broad expanse of the ocean; it lies spread out before him a new and sudden revelation of beauty; its extent of surface, unbroken by the petty lines and boundaries that divide and mark off the lands upon the shore; its wonderful deep blue, a color he has seen hitherto only in the firmament above him, and not there as here—that deep blue relieved by the white sails, that, likebirds of snowy wing, flit across its peaceful bosom, or lie motionless in the morning light on its calm expanse; its peculiar convexity of surface, as it stretches far out to the horizon, and lifts up its broad shoulders against the sky;—these things he beholds for the first time, they are associated with nothing in his past experience; he has never seen, never dreamed of such a vision; it is not the reflection of his own thoughts or fancies; but it is, nevertheless, to him a scene of rare and wondrous beauty, the recollection and first impression of which shall haunt him while he lives. If, in after life, he came to philosophize upon the matter, it would be difficult to convince him that what he thus admired was but the play of his own imagination, the transfer of his own mental state, the association of his own thought and feeling with the object before him; in a word, that the beauty which so charmed him lay not at all in the object contemplated, but only in his own mind.
A further Question.—That the beauty which we perceive is a quality of objects, and not merely a subjective emotion, that there is in the object something which, call it what we will, is the producing cause of the emotion in us, and that this objective cause, whatever it be, is, in the proper use of terms, to be recognized as beauty, this we have now sufficiently discussed. Admitting, however, these positions, the question may still arise, whether that which we call beauty in objects has, after all, an absolute existence, independent of the mind that is impressed by it? The beauty that I admire in yonder landscape, or in the wild flower that blooms at my feet, is, indeed, the beauty of the landscape or the flower, and not of my mind; it pertains to, and dwells in, the object, and not in me; but dwells it there independently of me, the observer, and when I do not behold it? If there were no intelligent, observing mind, to behold and feel that beauty, would the object still be beautiful, even as now? This admits of question. Is the beauty a fixed, absolute quality, inherent in the object as such, andper se, or is itsomething springing out of the relation between the mind of the observer and the object observed.
No Evidence of its Existence except its Effect.—That it is relative, and not absolute, may be argued from the fact that we have no evidence of any such quality or cause, save as in operation, save as producing effects in us; and as we could never have inferred the existence of the cause, had it not been for the effect produced, so we have no reason to suppose its existence when and where it does not manifest itself in operation, that is to say, when and where it is not observed. As the spark from the smitten steel is not strictly to be regarded as itself a property of the steel, nor yet of the flint, but as a relative phenomenon arising from the collision of the two, so beauty, it may be said, dwells not absolutely in the objectper se, nor yet in the intelligent subject, but is a phenomenon resulting from the relation of the two.
Further Argument from diversity of Effects.—The same may be argued from the diversity of the effects produced. If beauty is a fixed, absolute quality of objects, it may be said, then the effects ought to be uniformly the same; whereas there is, in fact, no such uniformity, no standard of beauty, none of taste, but what seems to one man exceedingly fine, excites only the aversion and disgust of another, and even the same person is at different times differently affected by the same object. Hence it may be inferred that the beauty is merely a relation between the mind and the object contemplated, varying as the mind varies.
Reply to the first Argument.—To these arguments I reply, in the first place, that it is not necessary that a cause should be in actual operation, under our immediate eye, in order that we should conclude its independent and constant existence. If, whenever the occasion returns, the effects are observed, we conclude that the cause existsper se, and not merely in relation to us. Otherwise we could never believe the absolute existence of any thing, but should, withBerkley and Hume, call in question the existence of matter itself, save as phenomenal and relative to our senses. The same argument that makes the beauty of a rose relative merely to the observer, makes the rose itself merely a relative existence. How do I know that it exists? I see it, feel it, smell it; it lies upon my table; it affects my senses. I turn away now. I leave the room. How do I knownowthat the rose exists? It no longer affects my senses; the cause no longer operates; the effect is no longer produced. I have just as much reason to say it no longer exists, as to say it is no longer beautiful.
Reply to the second Argument.—To the argument from the diversity of effect, I reply, that admitting the fact to be as stated, viz., that the same object is differently regarded by different minds, the diversity may arise from either of two sources. The want of uniformity may lie in the cause, or it may lie in the minds affected by it. The exciting cause may vary, and the effects produced by it will then be diverse; or the minds on which it operates may differ, and in that case, also, the effects will be diverse. We are not to conclude, then, from diversity of effect that the cause is not uniform. A beautiful object, it is true, affects different observers differently, but the reason of the diversity may be inthemand not in the object.
What then is the fact? Are the minds of all observers equally susceptible of impression from the beautiful? By no means. They differ in education, habit of thought, culture, taste, native sensibility, and many other things. Hardly two minds can be found that are not diverse in these respects. Ought we then to expect absolute uniformity of effect?
Not to be conceded that there is no Agreement.—It is by no means to be conceded, however, that there is no such thing as a standard of beauty or of taste, no general agreement among men as to what is or is not beautiful, no general agreement as to the emotions produced. There is suchagreement in both respects. Within certain limits it is uniform and complete. Certain aspects of nature, and certain works of art, are, in all ages, and by all men, regarded as beautiful. The Apollo Belvidere, and the Venus of the Capitol, are to us what they were to the ancients; the perfection of the beautiful. The great work of Raphael, scarcely finished at his death, the last touches still fresh from his hand—that work which, as it hung above his bier, drew tears from all eyes, and filled with admiration all hearts—is still the wonder and admiration of men. And so it will be in centuries to come. And so of the emotions produced by the contemplation of the beautiful. Making due allowance for habits of association, mental culture, and differences of native sensibility, we shall find men affected much in the same way by the beautiful in nature or art. The men of the same class and condition as to these matters—the peasant of one age or country, and the peasant of another, the philosopher of one time, and of another, the wealthy, uneducated citizen, and the fashionable fool, of one period and nation, and of another—experience much the same effects in view of one and the same object. The same general laws, too, preside over and regulate the different arts which have relation to the beautiful, in all ages of the world.
Consequences of the Theory that Beauty is merely relative.—If beauty be not absolute but relative only, it follows, 1. That, if there were no observers of nature or art, neither would be longer beautiful. 2. If, for any reason any thing is for the time unseen, as,e. g., a pearl in the sea, a precious stone in the mine, or a rich jewel in the casket, it has no beauty so long as it is there and thus. 3. As minds vary in susceptibility of impression, the same thing is beautiful to one person and not to another; at one time and not at another; nay, at one and the same moment it is both beautiful and not beautiful, according as the minds of the observers vary. I cannot say with truth, that the Mosaics of St. Peter's,or the great diamond of the East, are, at this moment, really beautiful, because I do not know who, or whether any one, may, at this moment, be looking at them.
Intimate Relation between the Mind and the Object.—While I maintain, however, the existence of beauty as an absolute and independent quality of objects, and not merely as relative to the mind that perceives and enjoys it, I would, by no means, overlook the very intimate relation which subsists, in the present case, between the perceiving mind and the object perceived. Beauty makes its appeal primarily to the senses. It pleases and charms us, because we are endowed with senses and a nature fitted to receive pleasure from such objects. In theadaptationof our physical and mental constitution to the order and constitution of material things as they exist without, lies the secret of that power which the beautiful exerts over us.
Might have been otherwise constituted.—We might have been so constituted, doubtless, that the most beautiful objects should have been disgusting, rather than pleasing: the violet should have seemed an ugly thing, and the sweetest strains of music harsh and discordant. There are disordered senses, and disordered minds, to which, even now, those things, which we call beautiful, may so appear. For that adaptation of our sensitive nature to external objects, and of these objects to our sensitive nature, by virtue of which, the percipient mind recognizes and feels the beauty of the object perceived, and takes delight in it, we are indebted wholly to the wisdom and benevolence of the great Creator.
The Doctrine maintained.—Still,given, the present constitution and mutual adaptation of mind and matter, and we affirm the independent existence of the beautiful as an objectper se, and not merely as an affection of the percipient mind. The perception and enjoyment of the beauty are subjective, relative, dependent; the beauty itself not so.
The second Question.—If beauty be, then, as we find reasonto believe, not wholly a subjective affair, but a quality or property of external objects, the question now arises,
II. What is it in the object, that constitutes its beauty?
Theory of Novelty.—And first, is it thenoveltyof the thing? Is the novel the beautiful? Doubtless, novelty pleases us. It has this in common with the beautiful. Yet some things that are novel, are by no means beautiful. A mill for grinding corn is a great curiosity to one who has never seen such a machine before, but it might not strike him as particularly beautiful.
Every thing, when first beheld, is novel; but every thing is not beautiful. Let us look more closely at the element of novelty. That is novel which is new tousmerely, which appears to us for the first time. It may be new to the intellect, a new idea, or to the sensibility, a new feeling, or to the will, a new act. As a new idea it satisfies our curiosity, as a new feeling it developes our nature, as a new volition it enlarges the sphere of our activity. In these respects, and for these reasons, novelty pleases, but in all this we discover no resemblance to the beautiful.
Novelty heightens Beauty.—It is not to be denied that novelty, in many cases, heightens the beauty of an object. By familiarity, we become, in a measure, insensible to the charms of that which, as first beheld, filled us with delight. The sensibility receives no further excitement from that to which it has become accustomed. To enjoy mountain scenery most highly, one must not always dwell among the mountains. To enjoy Niagara most highly, one must not live in the sight of it all his days. But beauty, and theenjoymentof the beautiful, are surely different things, and while novelty is accessory to the full effect of the beautiful on our minds, and even indispensable to it, it is not, itself, the element of beauty, not the ground and substance of it.
Not always pleasing.—Jouffroy even denies that novelty is always pleasing. Some things, he contends,displeaseus, simply because they are new. We become accustomed tothem, and our dislike ceases. Thus it is, to some extent, with difference of color in the races.
Theory of the Useful.—Is, then, theusefulthe beautiful? This theory next claims our attention. The foundation of the emotions awakened in us by the beautiful in nature or art, is the perception of utility. We perceive in the object a fitness to conduce, in some way, to our welfare, to serve, in some way, our purposes, and for this reason, we are pleased. The utility is the beauty.
The most useful not the most beautiful.—That the beauty of an object may, in our perception, be heightened by the discovery of its fitness to produce some desirable end, or rather, that this may add somewhat to the pleasure we feel in view of the object, is quite possible; that this is the main element and grand secret, either of that emotion on our part, or of the beauty which gives rise to it, is not possible. It is sufficient to say, that, if this were so, the most useful things ought, of course, to be the most beautiful. Is this the case? A stream of water conducted along a ship canal is more useful than the same stream tumbling over the rapids, or plunging over a perpendicular precipice. Is it also more beautiful? A swine's snout, to use a homely but forcible illustration of Burke, is admirably fitted to serve the purpose for which it was intended; useful exceedingly for rooting and grubbing, but not, on the whole, very beautiful.
Dissimilarity of the two.—Indeed, few things can be more unlike, in their effect upon the mind, in the nature of the emotions they excite, than the useful and the beautiful. This has been well shown by Jouffroy in his analysis of the beautiful. Kant has also clearly pointed out the same thing. Both please us, but not in the same way, not for the same reason. We love the one for its advantage to us, the otherfor its own sake. The one is a purely selfish, the other a purely disinterested love, a noble, elevated emotion. The two are heaven-wide asunder. The glorious sunset is of noearthly use to us, otherwise than mere beauty and pleasure are in themselves of use. The gorgeous spectacle becomes at once degraded in our own estimation by the very question of its possible utility. We love it not for the benefit it confers, the use we can make of it, but for its own sake, its own sweet beauty, because it is what it is. There it lies, pencilled on the clouds, evanescent, momentarily changing. There it is, afar off. You cannot reach it, cannot command its stay, have no wish to appropriate it to yourself, no desire to turn it to your own account, or reap any benefit from it, other than the mere enjoyment; still you admire it, still it is beautiful to you. Of what use to the beholder is the ruddy glow and flash of sunrise on the Alpine summits as seen from the Rhigi or Mount Blanc? Of what use, in fact, is beauty in any case, other than as it may be the means of refining the taste, and elevating the mind? That it has this advantage we are free to admit; and it is certainly one of the noblest uses to which any thing can be made subservient; but surely this cannot be what is meant when we are told that beautyconsistsin utility, for this would be simply affirming that the cause consists in the effect produced. Beauty refines and elevates the mind, is a means of æsthetic and moral culture; as such it is of use, and in that use lies the secret and the subtle essence of beauty itself. In other words, a given cause produces a given effect, and that effectconstitutesthe cause!
The utility of Beauty an incidental Circumstance.—The truth is, that while the beautiful does elevate and ennoble the mind, and thus furnish the means of the highest æsthetic and moral culture, this advantage is wholly incidental to the existence of beauty, not even a necessary or invariable effect, much less the constituting element. This is not the reason why we admire the beautiful. It does not enter into our thoughts at the moment. As on the summit of Rhigi, I watch the play of the first rosy light on the snowy peaks that lift themselves in stately grandeur along the oppositehorizon, I am not thinking, at that moment, of the effect produced on my own mind, by the spectacle before me; I am wholly absorbed in the magnificence of the scene itself. It is beautiful, not because it is useful, not because it elevates my mind, and cultivates my taste, and contributes, in various ways, to my development, but it produces these effects because it is beautiful. The very thought of the useful is almost enough, in such cases, to extinguish the sentiment of the beautiful.
Beauty cannot be appropriated.—That only is useful which can beappropriated, and turned to account. But the beautiful, in its very nature, cannot be appropriated or possessed. You may appropriate the picture, the statue, the mountain, the waterfall, but not their beauty. These do not belong to you, and never can. They are the property of every beholder. Hence, as Jouffroy has well observed, the possession of a beautiful object never fully satisfies. The beauty is ideal, and cannot be possessed. It is an ethereal spirit that floats away as a silver cloud, ever near, yet ever beyond your grasp. It is a bow, spanning the blue arch, many-colored, wonderful; yonder, just yonder, is its base, where the rosy light seems to hover over the wood, and touch gently the earth; but you cannot, by any flight or speed of travel, come up with it. It is here, there, everywhere, except where you are. It is given you to behold, not to possess it.
Theory of Unity in Variety.—Evidently we must seek elsewhere than in utility the dwelling-place of beauty. The secret of her tabernacle is not there. Let us see, then, ifunity in varietymay not be, as some affirm, the principle of the beautiful. The intellect demands a general unity, as,e. g., in a piece of music, a painting, or a play, and is not satisfied unless it can perceive such unity. The parts must be not only connected but related, and that relation must be obvious. At the same time the sensibility demands variety, ase. g., of tone and time in the music, of color and shadein the painting, of expression in both. The same note of a musical instrument continuously produced, or the same color unvaried in the painting, would be intolerable. The due combination of these two principles, unity and variety, say these writers, constitutes what we call beauty in an object. The waving line of Hogarth may be taken as an illustration of this principle.
Objection to this View.—Without entering fully into the discussion of this theory, it may be sufficient to say, that while the principle now named does enter, in some degree into our conception of the beautiful, it can hardly be admitted as the ground and cause, or even as the chief element of beauty. Not every thing is beautiful which presents both unity and variety. Some things, on the other hand, are beautiful which lack this combination. Some colors are beautiful, taken by themselves, and the same is true of certain forms, which, nevertheless, lack the element of variety. In the construction of certain mathematical figures, which please the eye by their symmetry and exactness, we may detect, perhaps, the operation of this principle. On the other hand, it will not account for the pleasure we feel when the eye rests upon a particular color that is agreeable. A bright red pebble, or a bit of stained glass, appears to a child very beautiful. It is the color that is the object of his admiration. We have simple unity but no variety there. On the other hand, in a beautiful sunset we have the greatest variety, but not unity, other than simply a numerical unity.
We cannot, on the whole, accept this theory as a complete and satisfactory resolution of the problem of the beautiful, although it is supported by the eminent authority of Cousin, who, while he regards all beauty as ultimately pertaining to the spiritual nature, still finds in the principle, now under consideration, its chief characteristic so far as it assumes external form.
Order and Proportion.—Shall we then, with Aristotle. Augustine, Andrè, and others, ancient and modern, seek thehidden principle of beauty in the elements oforder and proportion? What are order and proportion? Order is the arrangement of the several parts of a composite body. Proportion is the relation of the several parts to each other in space and time. Not every possible arrangement is order, but only that which appears conducive to the end designed, and not every possible arrangement of parts is proportion, but only that which furthers the end to be accomplished. To place the human eye in the back part of the head, the limbs remaining as they now are, would bedisorder, for motion must in that case, as now, be forward, while the eye, looking backward, could no longer survey the path we tread. The limbs of the Arabian steed, designed for swiftness of locomotion, bear a proportion to the other parts of the body, somewhat different from that which the limbs of the swine, designed chiefly for support, and for movements slower, and over shorter distances, bear to his general frame. The proportion of each, however, is perfect as it is. Exchange each for each, and they are quite out of proportion.
Only another Form of the Useful.—Since order and proportion, then, have always reference to the end proposed to be accomplished, we have, in fact, in these elements, only another form of the useful, which, as we have already seen, is not the principle of beauty.
Not always Beautiful.—Accordingly, we find that order and proportion do not, in themselves, and when unassociated with other elements, invariably strike us as beautiful. The leg of the swine is as fine a specimen of order and proportion as that of the Arab courser, but is not so much admired for its beauty. It must be admitted, however, that these elements in combination, do with others, enter more or less fully into the formation of the beautiful, are intimately associated with its external forms. The absence or violation of these principles would mar the beauty of the object.
The spiritual Theory.—The only theory of beauty remaining to be noticed is the spiritual theory, which makesbeauty consist, not in matter as such, nor in any mere arrangement of matter in itself considered, but in the manifestation or expression, under these sensible material forms, of the higher, thehidden spiritual nature, or element, appealing thus to our own spiritual nature, which is thereby awakened to sympathy. In the sensible world about us we find two elements diverse and distinct each from the other, the idea and the form, spirit and matter, the invisible and the visible. In objects that are beautiful we find these two elements united in such a way, that the one expresses or manifests the other, the form expresses the idea, the body expresses the spirit, the visible manifests the invisible, and our own spiritual nature recognizing its like, holds communion and sympathy with it as thus expressed. That which constitutes the beautiful, then, is this manifestation, under sensible forms, and so to our senses, of the higher and spiritual principle which is the life and soul of things.
Relation of the Beautiful to the True and the Good.—It differs from the true in that the true is not, like the beautiful, expressed under sensible forms, but is isolated, pure, abstract, not addressed to the senses, but to reason. It differs from the good, in that the good always proposes an end to be accomplished, and involves the idea of obligation, while the beautiful, on the contrary, proposes no end to be accomplished, acknowledges no obligation or necessity, but is purely free and spontaneous. Yet, though differing in these aspects, the good, the true, and the beautiful, are at basis essentially the same, even as old Plato taught, differing rather in their mode of expression, and the relations which they sustain to us, than in essence.
Relation of the Beautiful to the Sublime.—The relation of the beautiful to thesublime, according to this theory, is simply this: In the beautiful, the invisible and the visible, the finite and the infinite, are harmoniously blended. In the sublime, the spiritual element predominates, the harmony is disturbed, the sensible is overborne by the infinite, and ourspirits are agitated by the presence, in an unwonted degree, of the higher element of our own being. Hence, while the one pleases, the other awes and subdues us.
Application of this Theory.—Such, in brief outline, is the theory. Let us see now whether it is applicable to the different forms of beauty, and whether it furnishes a satisfactory explanation and account of them.
Surveying the different forms of being, we find among them different degrees of beauty. Does, then, every thing which is beautiful express or manifest, through the medium, and, as it were, under the veil, of the material form, the presence of the invisible spiritual element? and the more beautiful it is, does it so much the more plainly and directly manifest this element?
The Theory applied to inorganic Forms.—And first, to begin with the lowest, how is it with the inanimate, inorganic, merely chemical forms of matter? Here we have certain lines, certain figures, certain colors, that we call beautiful. What do they express of the higher or spiritual element of being? In themselves, and directly, they express nothing, perhaps. Yet are they not, after all, suggestive, symbolical of an idea and spirit dwelling, not in them, but in him who made them, of the Creator's idea and spirit, inarticulate expressions, mere natural signs, of a higher principle than dwells in these poor forms? Do they not suggest and express to us ideas of grace, elegance, delicacy, and the like? Do we not find ourselves attracted by, and, in a sort, in sympathy with these forms, as thus significant and expressive? Is it not thus that lines, and figures, and mathematical forms, the regular and sharply cut angles of the crystal, the light that flashes on its polished surface, or lies hid in beautiful color within it, the order, proportion, and movement, by fixed laws, of the various forms of matter, appear beautiful to us? For what are order, proportion, regularity, harmony, and movement, by fixed laws, and what are elegance, andgrace of outline and figure, but so many signs and expressions of a higher intelligence?
Theory applied to vegetable Forms.—Passing onward and upward in the scale of being, taking into view, now, the organic forms of vegetable life, do we not find a more definite articulate expression of the spiritual and invisible under the material form? The flower that blooms in our path, the sturdy tree that throws out its branches against the sky, or droops pensively, as if weighed down by some hidden sorrow, address us more directly, speak more intimately to our spirits, than the mere crystal can do, however elegant its form, or definite its outline. They express sentiments, not ideas merely. They respond to the sensibilities, they appeal to the inner life of the soul. They are strong or weak, timid or bold, joyous or melancholy. It requires no vigorous exercise of fancy to attribute to them the sensibilities which they awaken in us. When in lively communion and sympathy with nature, we can hardly resist the conviction that the emotions which she calls into play in our own bosoms are, somehow, her own emotions also; that under these forms so expressive, so full of meaning to us, there lurks an intelligence, a soul.
To the animal Kingdom.—In the animal kingdom, this invisible spiritual principle, the energy that lies hidden under all forms of animate and organized substance, becomes yet more strongly and obviously developed. The approach is nearer, and the appeal is more direct, to our own spiritual nature. We perceive signs, not to be mistaken, of intelligence and of feeling; passion betrays itself, love, hate, fear, the very principles of our own spiritual being, the very image of our own higher nature. Beauty and deformity are now more strongly marked than in the lower degrees of the scale of being.
To Man.—In man we reach the highest stage of animal existence with which we are conversant, the highest degree of life, intelligence, soul—the being in whom the spiritualshines forth most clearly through the material veil—and, shall we not say also, the being most beautiful of all? The highest style of beauty to be found in nature pertains to the human form, as animated and lighted up by the intelligence within. It is the expression of the soul that constitutes this superior beauty. It is that which looks out at the eye which sits in calm majesty on the brow, lurks in the lip, smiles on the cheek, is set forth in the chiselled lines and features of the countenance, in the general contour of figure and form, and the particular shading and expression of the several parts, in the movement, and gesture, and tone; it is this looking out of the invisible spirit that dwells within, through the portals of the visible, this manifestation of the higher nature, that we admire and love; this constitutes to us the beauty of our species. Hence it is that certain features, not in themselves, perhaps, particularly attractive, wanting, it may be, in certain regularity of outline, or in certain delicacy and softness, are still invested with a peculiar charm and radiance of beauty from their peculiar expressiveness and animation. The light of genius, or the superior glow of sympathy, and a noble heart, play upon those plain, and, it may be, homely features, and light them up with a brilliant and regal beauty. Those, as every artist knows, are precisely the features most difficult to portray. The expression changes with the instant. The beauty flashes, and is gone, or gives place to a still higher beauty, as the light that plays in fitful corruscations along the northern sky, coming and going, but never still.
Man not the highest Type of Beauty.—Is then the human form the highest expression of the principle of beauty? It can hardly be; for in man, as in all things on the earth, is mingled along with the beauty much that is deformed, with the excellence much imperfection. We can conceive forms superior to his, faces radiant with a beauty that sin has never darkened, nor passion nor sorrow dimmed. We can conceive forms of beauty more perfect, purer, brighter,loftier than any thing that human eye hath seen or human ear heard. We conceive them, however, as existing only under some sensible form, as manifest in some way to sense, and the beauty with which we invest them is the beauty of the spiritual expressing itself in the outward and visible. It is the province of imagination to fashion these conceptions, and of art to attempt their realization. This, the poet, the painter, the sculptor, the architect, the orator, each in his way, is ever striving to do, to present under sensible forms, the ideal of a more perfect loveliness and excellence than the actual world affords.
This ideal can never be adequately and fully represented. The perfection of beauty dwells alone with God.
Consideration in favor of the Theory now explained.—It is in favor of the theory now under consideration, that it seems thus more nearly to meet and account for the various phenomena of beauty, than any other of those which have passed under our review, and that it accounts for them, withal, on a principle so simple and obvious. The crystal, the violet, the graceful spreading elm, the drooping willow, the statue, the painting, the musical composition, the grand cathedral, whatever in nature, whatever in art is beautiful, all mean something, all express something, and in this lies their beauty; and we are moved by them, because we, who have a soul, and in whom the spiritual nature predominates, can understand and sympathize with that which these forms of nature and art, in their semi-articulate way, seem all striving to express.
The Ideas thus expressed pertain not to Nature but to the divine Mind.—It is not necessary that, with the ancient Greeks, we should conceive of nature, as having herself an intelligent soul of these forms as themselves conscious of their own meaning and beauty. It is enough that we recognize them as conveying a sentiment and meaning not their own, but his who made them, and made them representative and expressive of his own beautiful thought.Words are not the only modes of expression. The soul speaks more earnestly and eloquently often in signs than in words. And when God speaks to men, he does it not always in the barren forms of human speech, but in the flower that he places by my path, in the tree, the mountain, the rolling ocean, the azure firmament. These are hiswords, and they are beautiful, and, when he will, they are terrible. Happy he who, in all these manifestations, recognizes the voice of God.
§ II.—Cognizance of the Beautiful.
Beauty an Object of Cognition.—We have treated, in the preceding section, of the idea of the beautiful, in itself considered. We proceed to investigate the action of the mind as cognizant of the beautiful in its actual manifestations, whether in nature or art. Beauty, as we have found reason to believe, is not a conception merely, existing only in the mind, but a quality of certain objects. As such it has objective value and existence, and the mind is cognizant of it as such, perceives it, observes it, compares it and the object to which it pertains with other like and unlike objects, judges and decides respecting it. This quality of objects makes its appeal, as do all objects of perception, first to the senses, and through them to the mind. There is thus awakened in the mind, or suggested to it, the original and intuitive conception of the beautiful; there is also, and beside this, the cognizance by the mind of the beautiful as an actual and present reality manifest in the object before it. As it perceives other objects of a like nature, it classes them with the preceding, compares them severally, judges of their respective merits, their respective degrees and kinds of beauty. This discriminating power of the mind, as exercised upon the various objects of beauty and sublimity, whether in nature or art, we may designate by the general name oftaste.
Nature of this Power.—There has been much difference of opinion as to the precise nature of this power, whether it is a distinct faculty of the mind, or the simple exercise of some faculty already known and described, whether it is of the nature of intellect, or of emotion, or the combination of both. Hence the various definitions of taste which have been given by different writers, some regarding it as strictly an intellectual faculty, others as an emotion, while the greater number regard it as including the action both of the intellect in perceiving, and of the sensibility in feeling, whatever is beautiful and sublime.
What has been already said, sufficiently indicates with which of these general views our own most nearly accords. We use the term taste to denote the mind's power of cognizing the beautiful, a power of knowing, of discriminating, rather than of feeling, an exercise of judgment and the reflective power, directed to one particular class of objects, rather than any distinct faculty of the mind. Feeling is doubtless awakened on the perception of the beautiful; it may even precede the judgment by which we decide that the object before us is truly beautiful; but the feeling is notitselfthe perception, or the judgment; is not itselftaste, whatever may be its relation to taste.
Proposed Investigation.—As this is a matter of some importance to a correct psychology, and also of much difference of opinion, it seems necessary, for purposes of science, to investigate somewhat carefully the nature of this form of mental activity. It is not a matter to be settled by authority, by arbitrary definition, or dogmatic assertion. We must look at the views and opinions of others, and at the reasons for those opinions.
Definitions.—As preliminary to such investigation, I shall present some of the definitions of taste, given by the more prominent writers, representing each of the leading views already indicated.
Blair defines it "a power of receiving pleasure from thebeauties of nature and art." Montesquieu, a French author of distinction, defines it "something which attaches us to certain objects by the power of an internal sense or feeling." Gerard, author of an Essay on Taste, makes it consist in the improvement of the internal senses, viz., sense of novelty, sublimity, beauty, imitation, harmony, etc. Accordant with this are the lines of Akenside: