INTRODUCTION.
Twelve years ago, one of our most eminent philosophers,[1]through the medium of theEdinburgh Review,[2]gave the following account of what was then the state of the fine arts as connected with science:—“The disposition to introduce into the intellectual community the principles of free intercourse, is by no means general; but we are confident that Art will not sufficiently develop her powers, nor Science attain her most commanding position, till the practical knowledge of the one is taken in return for the sound deductions of the other.... It is in the fine arts, principally, and in the speculations with which they are associated, that the controlling power of scientific truth has not exercised its legitimate influence. In discussing the principles of painting, sculpture, architecture, and landscape gardening, philosophers have renounced science as a guide, and even as an auxiliary; and a school has arisen whose speculations will brook no restraint, and whose decisions stand in opposition to the strongest convictions of our senses. That the external world, in its gay colours and lovely forms, is exhibited to the mind only as a tinted mass, neither within nor without the eye, neither touching it nor distant from it—an ubiquitous chaos, which experienceonly can analyse and transform into the realities which compose it; that the beautiful and sublime in nature and in art derive their power over the mind from association alone, are among the philosophical doctrines of the present day, which, if it be safe, it is scarcely prudent to question. Nor are these opinions the emanations of poetical or ill-trained minds, which ingenuity has elaborated, and which fashion sustains. They are conclusions at which most of our distinguished philosophers have arrived. They have been given to the world with all the authority of demonstrated truth; and in proportion to the hold which they have taken of the public mind, have they operated as a check upon the progress of knowledge.”
Such, then, was the state of art as connected with science twelve years ago. But although the causes which then placed science and the fine arts at variance have since been gradually diminishing, yet they are still far from being removed. In proof of this I may refer to what took place at the annual distribution of the prizes to the students attending our Scottish Metropolitan School of Design, in 1854, the pupils in which amount to upwards of two hundred. The meeting on that occasion included, besides the pupils, a numerous and highly respectable assemblage of artists and men of science. The chairman, a Professor in our University, and editor of one of the most voluminous works on art, science, and literature ever produced in this country, after extolling the general progress of the pupils, so far as evinced by the drawings exhibited on the occasion, drew the attention of the meeting to a discovery made by the head master of the architectural and ornamental department of the school, viz.—That the ground-plan of the Parthenon at Athens had been constructed by the application of themysteriousovoid orVesicaPiscisof the middle ages, subdivided by themythicnumbers 3 and 7, and their intermediate odd number 5. Now, it may be remarked, that the figure thus referred to is not an ovoid, neither is it in any way of a mysterious nature, being produced simply by two equal circles cutting each other in their centres. Neither can it be shewn that the numbers 3 and 7 are in any way more mythic than other numbers. In fact, the termsmysteriousandmythicso applied, can only be regarded as a remnant of an ancient terminology, calculated to obscure the simplicity of scientific truth, and when used by those employed to teach—for doubtless the chairman only gave the description he received—must tend to retard the connexion of that truth with the arts of design. I shall now give a specimen of the manner in which a knowledge of the philosophy of the fine arts is at present inculcated upon the public mind generally. In the same metropolis there has likewise existed for upwards of ten years a Philosophical Institution of great importance and utility, whose members amount to nearly three thousand, embracing a large proportion of the higher classes of society, both in respect to talent and wealth. At the close of the session of this Institution, in 1854, a learned and eloquent philologus, who occasionally lectures upon beauty, was appointed to deliver the closing address, and touching upon the subject of the beautiful, he thus concluded—
“In the worship of the beautiful, and in that alone, we are inferior to the Greeks. Let us therefore be glad to borrow from them; not slavishly, but with a wise adaptation—not exclusively, but with a cunning selection; in art, as in religion, let us learn to prove all things, and hold fast that which is good—not merely one thing which is good, but all good things—Classicalism, Mediævalism, Modernism—let us have and hold them all in one wide and lusty embrace. Whyshould the world of art be more narrow, more monotonous, than the world of nature? Did God make all the flowers of one pattern, to please the devotees of the rose or the lily; and did He make all the hills, with the green folds of their queenly mantles, all at one slope, to suit the angleometer of the most mathematical of decorators? I trow not. Let us go and do likewise.”
I here take for granted, that what the lecturer meant by “the worship of the beautiful,” is the production and appreciation of works of art in which beauty should be a primary element; and judging from the remains which we possess of such works as were produced by the ancient Grecians, our inferiority to them in these respects cannot certainly be denied. But I must reiterate what I have often before asserted, that it is not by borrowing from them, however cunning our selection, or however wise our adaptations, that this inferiority is to be removed, but by a re-discovery of the science which these ancient artists must have employed in the production of that symmetrical beauty and chaste elegance which pervaded all their works for a period of nearly three hundred years. And I hold, that as in religion, so in art, there is only one truth, a grain of which is worth any amount of philological eloquence.
I also take for granted, that what is meant by Classicalism in the above quotation, is the ancient Grecian style of art; by Mediævalism, the semi-barbaric style of the middle ages; and by Modernism, that chaotic jumble of all previous styles and fashions of art, which is the peculiar characteristic of our present school, and which is, doubtless, the result of a system of education based upon plagiarism and mere imitation. Therefore a recommendation to embrace with equal fervour “as good things,” these very opposite articismsmust be a doctrine as mischievous in art as it would be in religion to recommendas equally good things the variousismsinto which it has also been split in modern times.
Now, “the world of nature” and “the world of art” have not that equality of scope which this lecturer on beauty ascribes to them, but differ very decidedly in that particular. Neither will it be difficult to shew why “the world of artshouldbe more narrow than the world of nature”—that it should be thereby rendered more monotonous does not follow.
It is well known, that the “world of nature” consists of productions, including objects of every degree of beauty from the very lowest to the highest, and calculated to suit not only the tastes arising from various degrees of intellect, but those arising from the natural instincts of the lower animals. On the other hand, “the world of art,” being devoted to the gratification and improvement of intelligent minds only, is therefore narrowed in its scope by the exclusion from its productions of the lower degrees of beauty—even mediocrity is inadmissible; and we know that the science of the ancient Greek artists enabled them to excel the highest individual productions of nature in the perfection of symmetrical beauty. Consequently, all objects in nature are not equally well adapted for artistic study, and it therefore requires, on the part of the artist, besides true genius, much experience and care to enable him to choose proper subjects from nature; and it is in the choice of such subjects, and not in plagiarism from the ancients, that he should select with knowledge and adapt with wisdom. Hence, all such latitudinarian doctrines as those I have quoted must act as a check upon the progress of knowledge in the scientific truth of art. I have observed in some of my works, that in this country a course had been followed in our search for the true science of beauty not differing from that by which the alchymists of the middle ages conducted theirinvestigations; for our ideas of visible beauty are still undefined, and our attempts to produce it in the various branches of art are left dependant, in a great measure, upon chance. Our schools are conducted without reference to any first principles or definite laws of beauty, and from the drawing of a simple architectural moulding to the intricate combinations of form in the human figure, the pupils trust to their hands and eyes alone, servilely and mechanically copying the works of the ancients, instead of being instructed in the unerring principles of science, upon which the beauty of those works normally depends. The instruction they receive is imparted without reference to the judgment or understanding, and they are thereby led to imitate effects without investigating causes. Doubtless, men of great genius sometimes arrive at excellence in the arts of design without a knowledge of the principles upon which beauty of form is based; but it should be kept in mind, that true genius includes an intuitive perception of those principles along with its creative power. It is, therefore, to the generality of mankind that instruction in the definite laws of beauty will be of most service, not only in improving the practice of those who follow the arts professionally, but in enabling all of us to distinguish the true from the false, and to exercise a sound and discriminating taste in forming our judgment upon artistic productions. Æsthetic culture should consequently supersede servile copying, as the basis of instruction in our schools of art. Many teachers of drawing, however, still assert, that, by copying the great works of the ancients, the mind of the pupil will become imbued with ideas similar to theirs—that he will imbibe their feeling for the beautiful, and thereby become inspired with their genius, and think as they thought. To study carefully and to investigate the principles which constitute the excellenceof the works of the ancients, is no doubt of much benefit to the student; but it would be as unreasonable to suppose that he should become inspired with artistic genius by merely copying them, as it would be to imagine, that, in literature, poetic inspiration could be created by making boys transcribe or repeat the works of the ancient poets. Sir Joshua Reynolds considered copying as a delusive kind of industry, and has observed, that “Nature herself is not to be too closely copied,” asserting that “there are excellences in the art of painting beyond what is commonly called the imitation of nature,” and that “a mere copier of nature can never produce any thing great.” Proclus, an eminent philosopher and mathematician of the later Platonist school (A.D.485), says, that “he who takes for his model such forms as nature produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation of these, will never attain to what is perfectly beautiful. For the works of nature are full of disproportion, and fall very short of the true standard of beauty.”
It is remarked by Mr. J. C. Daniel, in the introduction to his translation of M. Victor Cousin’s “Philosophy of the Beautiful,” that “the English writers have advocated no theory which allows the beautiful to be universal and absolute; nor have they professedly founded their views on original and ultimate principles. Thus the doctrine of the English school has for the most part been, that beauty is mutable and special, and the inference that has been drawn from this teaching is, that all tastes are equally just, provided that each man speaks of what he feels.” He then observes, that the German, and some of the French writers, have thought far differently; for with them the beautiful is “simple, immutable, absolute, though itsformsare manifold.”
So far back as the year 1725, the same truths advanced bythe modern German and French writers, and so eloquently illustrated by M. Cousin, were given to the world by Hutchison in his “Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue.” This author says—“We, by absolute beauty, understand only that beauty which we perceive in objects, without comparison to any thing external, of which the object is supposed an imitation or picture, such as the beauty perceived from the works of nature, artificial forms, figures, theorems. Comparative or relative beauty is that which we perceive in objects commonly considered as imitations or resemblances of something else.”
Dr. Reid also, in his “Intellectual Powers of Man,” says—“That taste, which we may call rational, is that part of our constitution by which we are made to receive pleasure from the contemplation of what we conceive to be excellent in its kind, the pleasure being annexed to this judgment, and regulated by it. This taste may be true or false, according as it is founded on a true or false judgment. And if it may be true or false, it must have first principles.”
M. Victor Cousin’s opinion upon this subject is, however, still more conclusive. He observes—“If the idea of the beautiful is not absolute, like the idea of the true—if it is nothing more than the expression of individual sentiment, the rebound of a changing sensation, or the result of each person’s fancy—then the discussions on the fine arts waver without support, and will never end. For a theory of the fine arts to be possible, there must be something absolute in beauty, just as there must be something absolute in the idea of goodness, to render morals a possible science.”
The basis of the science of beauty must thus be founded upon fixed principles, and when these principles are evolved with the same care which has characterised the labours of investigatorsin natural science, and are applied in the fine arts as the natural sciences have been in the useful arts, a solid foundation will be laid, not only for correct practice, but also for a just appreciation of productions in every branch of the arts of design.
We know that the mind receives pleasure through the sense of hearing, not only from the music of nature, but from the euphony of prosaic composition, the rhythm of poetic measure, the artistic composition of successive harmony in simple melody, and the combined harmony of counterpoint in the more complex works of that art. We know, also, that the mind is similarly gratified through the sense of seeing, not only by the visible beauties of nature, but by those of art, whether in symmetrical or picturesque compositions of forms, or in harmonious arrangements of gay or sombre colouring.
Now, in respect to the first of these modes of sensation, we know, that from the time of Pythagoras, the fact has been established, that in whatever manner nature or art may address the ear, the degree of obedience paid to the fundamental law of harmony will determine the presence and degree of that beauty with which a perfect organ can impress a well-constituted mind; and it is my object in this, as it has been in former attempts, to prove it consistent with scientific truth, that that beauty which is addressed to the mind by objects of nature and art, through the eye, is similarly governed. In short, to shew that, as in compositions of sounds, there can be no true beauty in the absence of a strict obedience to this great law of nature, neither can there exist, in compositions of forms or colours, that principle of unity in variety which constitutes beauty, unless such compositions are governed by the same law.
Although in the songs of birds, the gurgling of brooks, the sighing of the gentle summer winds, and all the other beautifulmusic of nature, no analysis might be able to detect the operation of any precise system of harmony, yet the pleasure thus afforded to the human mind we know to arise from its responding to every development of an obedience to this law. When, in like manner, we find even in those compositions of forms and colours which constitute the wildest and most rugged of Nature’s scenery, a species of picturesque grandeur and beauty to which the mind as readily responds as to her more mild and pleasing aspects, or to her sweetest music, we may rest assured that this beauty is simply another development of, and response to, the same harmonic law, although the precise nature of its operation may be too subtle to be easily detected.
Therésuméof the various works I have already published upon the subject, along with the additional illustrations I am about to lay before my readers, will, I trust, point out a system of harmony, which, in formative art, as well as in that of colouring, will rise superior to the idiosyncracies of different artists, and bring back to one common type the sensations of the eye and the ear, thereby improving that knowledge of the laws of the universe which it is as much the business of science to combine with the ornamental as with the useful arts.
In attempting this, however, I beg it may be understood, that I do not believe any system, based even upon the laws of nature, capable of forming a royal road to the perfection of art, or of “mapping the mighty maze of a creative mind.” At the same time, however, I must continue to reiterate the fact, that the diffusion of a general knowledge of the science of visible beauty will afford latent artistic genius just such a vantage ground as that which the general knowledge of philology diffused throughout this country affords its latent literary genius. Althoughmere learningandtrue geniusdiffer as much in the practice of art as they do in the practice ofliterature, yet a precise and systematic education in the true science of beauty must certainly be as useful in promoting the practice and appreciation of the one, as a precise and systematic education in the science of philology is in promoting the practice and appreciation of the other.
As all beauty is the result of harmony, it will be requisite here to remark, that harmony is not a simple quality, but, as Aristotle defines it, “the union of contrary principles having a ratio to each other.” Harmony thus operates in the production of all that is beautiful in nature, whether in the combinations, in the motions, or in the affinities of the elements of matter.
The contrary principles to which Aristotle alludes, are those of uniformity and variety; for, according to the predominance of the one or the other of these principles, every kind of beauty is characterised. Hence the difference between symmetrical and picturesque beauty:—the first allied to the principle of uniformity, in being based upon precise laws that may be taught so as to enable men of ordinary capacity to produce it in their works—the second allied to the principle of variety often to so great a degree that they yield an obedience to the precise principles of harmony so subtilely, that they cannot be detected in its constitution, but are only felt in the response by which true genius acknowledges their presence. The generality of mankind may be capable of perceiving this latter kind of beauty, and of feeling its effects upon the mind, but men of genius, only, can impart it to works of art, whether addressed to the eye or the ear. Throughout the sounds, forms, and colours of nature, these two kinds of beauty are found not only in distinct developments, but in every degree of amalgamation. We find in the songs of some birds, such as those of the chaffinch, thrush, &c., a rhythmical division,resembling in some measure the symmetrically precise arrangements of parts which characterises all artistic musical composition; while in the songs of other birds, and in the other numerous melodies with which nature charms and soothes the mind, there is no distinct regularity in the division of their parts. In the forms of nature, too, we find amongst the innumerable flowers with which the surface of the earth is so profusely decorated, an almost endless variety of systematic arrangements of beautiful figures, often so perfectly symmetrical in their combination, that the most careful application of the angleometer could scarcely detect the slightest deviation from geometrical precision; while, amongst the masses of foliage by which the forms of many trees are divided and subdivided into parts, as also amongst the hills and valleys, the mountains and ravines, which divide the earth’s surface, we find in every possible variety of aspect the beauty produced by that irregular species of symmetry which characterises the picturesque.
In like manner, we find in wild as well as cultivated flowers the most symmetrical distributions of colours accompanying an equally precise species of harmony in their various kinds of contrasts, often as mathematically regular as the geometric diagrams by which writers upon colour sometimes illustrate their works; while in the general colouring of the picturesque beauties of nature, there is an endless variety in its distributions, its blendings, and its modifications. In the forms and colouring of animals, too, the same endless variety of regular and irregular symmetry is to be found. But the highest degree of beauty in nature is the result of an equal balance of uniformity with variety. Of this the human figure is an example; because, when it is of those proportions universally acknowledged to be the most perfect, its uniformity bears toits variety an apparently equal ratio. The harmony of combination in the normal proportions of its parts, and the beautifully simple harmony of succession in the normal melody of its softly undulating outline, are the perfection of symmetrical beauty, while the innumerable changes upon the contour which arise from the actions and attitudes occasioned by the various emotions of the mind, are calculated to produce every species of picturesque beauty, from the softest and most pleasing to the grandest and most sublime.
Amongst the purely picturesque objects of inanimate nature, I may, as in a former work, instance an ancient oak tree, for its beauty is enhanced by want of apparent symmetry. Thus, the more fantastically crooked its branches, and the greater the dissimilarity and variety it exhibits in its masses of foliage, the more beautiful it appears to the artist and the amateur; and, as in the human figure, any attempt to produce variety in the proportions of its lateral halves would be destructive of its symmetrical beauty, so in the oak tree any attempt to produce palpable similarity between any of its opposite sides would equally deteriorate its picturesque beauty. But picturesque beauty is not the result of the total absence of symmetry; for, as none of the irregularly constructed music of nature could be pleasing to the ear unless there existed in the arrangement of its notes an obedience, however subtle, to the great harmonic law of Nature, so neither could any object be picturesquely beautiful, unless the arrangement of its parts yields, although it may be obscurely, an obedience to the same law.
However symmetrically beautiful any architectural structure may be, when in a complete and perfect state, it must, as it proceeds towards ruin, blend the picturesque with the symmetrical; but the type of its beauty will continue to be thelatter, so long as a sufficient portion of it remains to convey an idea of its original perfection. It is the same with the human form and countenance; for age does not destroy their original beauty, but in both only lessens that which is symmetrical, while it increases that which is picturesque.
In short, as a variety of simultaneously produced sounds, which do not relate to each other agreeably to this law, can only convey to the mind a feeling of mere noise; so a variety of forms or colours simultaneously exposed to the eye under similar circumstances, can only convey to the mind a feeling of chaotic confusion, or what may be termedvisiblediscord. As, therefore, the two principles of uniformity and variety, or similarity and dissimilarity, are in operation in every harmonious combination of the elements of sound, of form, and of colour, we must first have recourse to numbers in the abstract before we can form a proper basis for a universal science of beauty.