The anatomy and philosophy of expression

Saini sit

t ¢ 2 ipl y)
Bee staat PPP IR; fe
FIG ETI IP Se) HP

PARA IEE ILLS

Toe e es : PII re oe LER ka Bice ieee PTA IAT, ail pecraa Secret
% 4 r Ae ee yr IIIS PV IOPS) pie
y OO ELE
“ ped Or 48
MILES IEEE OT enero
it , , A dae AA ome 7
Pee Ce erent

i

Pe PSS
ee I

RELEASE EAE ; e Z
en gegee eben fs aie oe
: 5
7
‘

ot ce fe = j ae. rs ra - , |

mY ae (pbb, oe Ae ees Seki . ey Py rs PITS ys % 7) fi iy
es he eh re 4 pee ee ee if hey ie ith

4 ELEM ELL, ry,
EOE

; 5

S =

oe a
ae am ie oe o Ke Me a,

x s Fee ee ‘ Aree,

ieee ee fi ‘ ag “68, i /, 5
sate Os ‘ ey < fee IPT ATs. tbe Tg MPLLLAL EE
‘A ee ’ LAP IRS IIIS, iiss

ES: rave y s PP
ed 3 Tes es - ihe
DIOR EE LLM IIIT: MTR
saat PIAA EKG : LE ite

PELL re he y ae eS) a Po (LEE:
SEE LTE, OE
° i mae ag

II
ak ae
y, Ae es plat »
Pye ee
hdd
EELS
Ps

>

‘Zs
ee
y

>,

te ae
be kt i és
PLE SPL EALE ELE Shad Oe
q eget ad Pee i PASSER ars
; ry ie he
: : ay
ae

ras

ory ss

SAALES
ALM ad

ees

s
ax

2
C=
re vy hebid
ua ee
asd bee ox tf <
COLLEI EEE ER. % y

eee he EE hah

- ‘ Sa ote ISPD: a

S
,
S43

:
SA
vm bL®
seen Ses
> ae
ee,
See see

s
>,
a

oe

+,
pratt vs
eesct
<<
Sess
ee

s
iS
*
Se
Seiecat

*
te

$

<9
y,
<S

24
bse
*,

4

‘s

ey
Fis
Loe ae
Sees
Sates
ceegeoes
ieseSes
eases
beecscens
SeheSees
tateteky
ae:
Per ge
"
eke

pane
é
Soy,
iesan
hy
4,
<
ae
SS
SeSq5
Se
ies

>.

>

%
*

hes : ai
ates sf IIIT Ed
Soeur aD
AMELIE L
SORIA LOLI
Fe > 5 Rone
a

ae
Ze,

are
<
*
»!
igs
oe

page INS
es
:
:

x

x
ies

51
My:
>"
<
oth
Se
“

ed
oer
eseees
i
ree
Seatac
eee
ees

ee
Ay os

bet
f
sates
>>,
ese
»,
Starotee
bh *,
arta a

f
4,

ae

a
Meee CEL AE te
sae :
ee -
PILAR Ob in,

Par

oe
eee

Khe
ars

ayes
tet}
beS<3<5

44.
ee te
eet Sig
ae

z
eee
Cree % o.

he
Pees

oye

%
ae
Oe
Le
if.

Ae
Pres
; BEERS ae (i
Sab Seep Sr rex Rae ahs ceeee te i et: ; hte i;
VES EIRIR ILS Ps, PPR is " ‘ ee a Ae 3 ae ie if
Soe ae eis eee ‘G > hina ; eek fie
- Par he Pa ts

Py 7
yet ;
ee ie RTO oy al aed ooo
: EME ghar! Me

pigs eats
Pie BAe:

4

)
if
ees had: ‘s fet Aa ain tote
Ie Te RR ees ee fe
LPN Pe eT I ee ‘ Z ? 5 é
e KS ft, > 4 Pag
eR teere ete are : i Pp ie ees

G5
*

eee,
ees
sate

Ox

-

i
‘ae
de

a

é
y ms

ee
ae
re

ee,

xe
Or

2 cr

ee
page,

ee +,
Pele heat ee Pelee 55 ate
ont vee ty Ine ;
ee ae ee ne : TP te oe ee ae dnhebtes tre
eee Ree aerate I Ie ee iets Pires os Ete ee
pas es Se ens eee ee ee ities ia i PIRI
Zs rae ans “ eee a tes SOP Rie PERS
te Pgs ie yr et ae Pe F oes 2% ae eto tah ty x e a
5 fa Sea Re cae eet: oe re as os ese Meche aM ee ; Ao
f Seed Cre yee ye * ut , : Ga Cees eg OILS STOLE Le RE
is pee r ; > MLE i Ne BS
ehed

Dee
kes
iene

ie
ve e es ee 2 oe, Fé,
bon gee, ; host oy Z we
é ee Seed Ppiy ire YA is ie
De mee toy “7 AOE ERNE OE ae oA, pide
ee Bae Dies ; ‘ gor
Mes

Crit i ne
Sess
> >.>
ic cthes
ea) sae

-
BAe

ee
on

erase
neste?
Mies

Te
none
Pi.

oe, eee e oa orn : aoe 3 oF) E84
: stro Paes Paes ike ng San tere,

Be

ae
LER

SA:

Sapo her

fe Papers taal ; ay AE
4 é foo : ere ae
; nO ; 7 mes

(°

ALEK
Sp OTR
Gon Seats

acatas
th
race!
4
fe

*
ue

rar,
Or
>,
>!
cae

Seo
Bee naan,
: Nha
Nagai
m : Rtn tt ek

ee as
See Mee Ie

PERI IT

ict

es
5
ee
Coase
:

Ra etees

.

eee

ANATOMY AND PHILOSOPHY

OF

EXPRESSION

AS CONNECTED WITH THE FINE ARTS.

SIR CHARLES BELL, K.H.

TDhird Brition, enlarged.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

mMDpoce.xtiv. ‘/) “4.

Cambridge University Library,
On permanent deposit from

the Botany School

LONDON:
ST EET
PRINTED BY MOYES AND BARCLAY, CASTLE STREET,
LEICESTER SQUARE.

CokLe 72 C7.

London liblished by Sohn Murray, Tan2lE44.

PREFACE.

Turse Essays formed the earliest and the latest
occupation of the lamented author’s leisure hours ; —
and they now appear under the disadvantages which
must attend a posthumous publication.

It was the habit of the author, in his literary com-
positions, to sketch his first ideas as they arose ; and parts
of this work were found, evidently intended to be revised
and corrected. They are faithfully added to the text of
the last edition, where they bear upon the subject.

The following prefatory remarks are from the pen
of the late Professor Bell,* to whom, in the warmth of
brotherly affection, the second edition of the work had

been inscribed.

The Essays which are now presented to the public

in their enlarged form, were originally composed, as the

* George Joseph Bell, Professor of the Law of Scotland in the
University of Edinburgh. He died September 23, 1843. :

at i Rha wsesdciai sie Co el he ee te a an

SSE I PIE LTB ER ere

poli

lv PREFACE.

author fondly said in his dedication, “‘ when we studied

together before the serious pursuits of life began;” but

were not published till the year 1806, after the author
had left Edinburgh and fixed his residence in London.
A second edition appeared in 1824; but he resisted every

call for a new impression, until he should have had an
opportunity of verifying in Italy the principles of criticism
in art, by the study of the works of the great masters in
painting and sculpture.

With this view he visited the Continent in 1840; -
and on his return he recomposed the whole for a new
edition, introducing occasional extracts from his journal,
sometimes to enforce the text and sometimes to shew
from what authority he drew his conclusions.

In a declining state of health he had taken advantage
of a recess in his professorial duties in the University of
Edinburgh to revisit his friends m England. He hoped
in the leisure of the country to give this work a final
revisal for the press; but before he had fulfilled his
wishes in this respect, his life was terminated by an access
of his illness at Hallow Park, in Worcestershire, on the
29th of April, 1842.

In the speculations of which this work is the result,
and in the interesting imquiries to which they led, Sir
Charles Bell was accustomed to seek relief from the
wearing anxiety which, from his exquisite sensibility to

human suffering, had ever attended the practice of his

PREFACE,

profession: but a still greater effect was to follow. It
was from these investigations that he was first led to
make those discoveries in the system of the nerves, which
are now acknowledged to be the most important con-
tributions of modern times to the science of Physiology.
Before Sir Charles Bell’s time, the nerves, which per-
vade every the minutest portion of our frame, seemed,
in the studies of anatomists, a mass of inextricable con-
fusion and a subject of hopeless obscurity; but he
believed that in the works of the Creator there is
nothing imperfect or unnecessarily complex, and that the
solution of this apparent confusion was not beyond the
reach of human inquiry. In tracing the causes of move-

ments in ‘the countenance and in the frame of the body

under the influence of passion or emotion, he engaged

im a very careful inquiry into the origin, course, and
destination of the nerves; and consequent investigations
led him to those fundamental truths, hitherto unperceived,
by which he, and those who have followed his course,
have revealed to the medical world the beautiful sim-
plicity of this part of the animal economy. To the phy-
Slologist it will be particularly interesting to trace in this
work the steps by which the author was led to the com-
prehension of that most intricate portion of the nervous
system, the class of nerves which he has named respira-
tory; a subject so difficult, that it was long before his

vlews were acknowledged by the medical profession.

PREFACE.

Meanwhile his labours and his anxiety were relieved
by the variety of his pursuits. He was a true lover of
nature, and to trace the proofs of perfection and design
in all the works of the Creator was to him a source

of ever new delight. Constantly he had some useful,

some noble purpose in view, whether in following up

scientific inquiry, or in enthusiastically pursuing nature
or art. ‘Those who knew him best, and had seen him
in the most trying circumstances of life, were most sen-
sible that there never was a man whose mind was more

uniformly attuned to grateful happiness.

CONTENTS,

PAGE
Inrropuction.—Comparison of Ancient and Modern Art—

Studies of the Italian Masters
Essay I. Theory of Beauty in the Countenance—Of the Form
and Proportions of the Head and Face
Essay II. Changes from Infancy to Age
Of the Skull, as a Protection to the Brain

Characteristic Organs of Man
Theories of Ideal Beauty
National Peculiarities in the Form of the Head .... 71
Essay III. Of those Sources of Expression in the Countenance
which cannot be explained on the idea of a
direct Influence of the Mind upon the Features 82
Blushing
Essay IV. Of the Muscles of the Face in Man
Muscles of the Forehead and Eyebrow
Expression of the Human Eye
Muscles of the Nostrils

Expression in the Lips and Moustaches ....

Essay V, Of the Expression of Passion, illustrated by a Com-
parison of the Muscles of the Face in Man
and in Animals; and of the Muscles peculiar
to Man, and their effects in bestowing Human
Expression

Expression in Animals

The Muscles of Animals

Vill CONTENTS.

Terror
Despair
Admiration

Jealousy
Rage —
Madness

Essay VIII. Of Expression in reference to the Body
The Emotions modified by controlling Expression 199

Essay IX. The Study of Anatomy, as necessary to Design... 201
Of the Genius and Studies of Michael Angelo

Buonarotti

Essay X. Uses of Anatomy to the Painter

Faults mto which the Artist may be betrayed in
Studying the Antique

or in Drawing from the Academy Figure... .

Anatomy, as conducting to Truth of Expression
and of Character

APPENDIX.

Of the Nerves, by Alexander Shaw
Explanation of the Plates

EXPRESSION,

INTRODUCTION.

Ir is not an easy task to reconcile two subjects so far
apart in the minds of most readers as anatomy and the
fine arts ; but if prejudices, early imbibed, be thrown off, it
will be found that there is no science, taken in a compre-
hensive sense, more fruitful of instruction, or leading to

More interesting subjects of inquiry, than the knowledge of
the animal body.

The academies of Europe, instituted for the improve-
ment of painting, stop short of the science of anatomy,
which is so well suited to enlarge the mind, and to train
the eye for observing the forms of nature; or if they
enforce the study at all, it is only in its more obvious
application, that of assisting the drawing of the human
figure. But my design in this volume goes farther :— I
purpose to direct attention to the characteristic forms of man
and brutes by an inquiry into the natural functions, with a
view to comprehend the rationale of those changes in the
countenance and figure which are indicative of passion.

A just feeling in the fine arts is an elegant acquire-
ment, and capable of cultivation. Drawing is necessary
to many pursuits and useful arts: Locke has included it

B

Z INTRODUCTION,

amongst the accomplishments becoming a gentleman, and,
we may add, it is much more useful to the artisan. Good
taste and execution in design are necessary to manufac-
tures ; and consequently they contribute to the resources of
a country.

I am not without hope that a new impulse may be
given to the cultivation of the fine arts, by explaiming their
relation to the natural history of man and animals, and
by shewing how a knowledge of outward form, and the
accuracy of drawing which is a consequence of it, are
related to the interior structure and functions.

Anatomy, in its relation to the arts of design, is, in truth,
the grammar of that language in which they address us.
The expressions, attitudes, and movements of the human
figure are the characters of this language, adapted to con-
vey the effect of historical narration, as well as to shew the
working of human passion, and to give the most striking
and lively indications of intellectual power and energy.

The art of the painter, considered with a view to these
interesting representations, assumes a high character.
Every lesser embellishment and minuteness of detail
is regarded by an artist who has those more enlarged
views of his profession as foreign to the main design,
distracting and hurtful to the grand effect, admired
only as accurate imitations, almost appearing to be what
they are not. ‘This distinction must be felt, or we shall
never see the grand style in painting receive that en-
couragement which results from public feeling and good
taste. The painter must not be satisfied to copy and
represent what he sees; he must cultivate this talent of
imitation merely as bestowing those facilities which are to
give scope to the exertions of his genius; as the instru-
ments and means only which he is to employ for com-

_ INTRODUCTION. 8

municating his thoughts, and presenting to others the
creations of his fancy; it is by his creative powers alone
that he can become truly a painter; and for these he is to
trust to original genius, cultivated and enriched by a con-
stant observation of nature. Till he has acquired a poet’s
eye for nature, and can seize with intuitive quickness the
appearances of passion, and all the effects produced upon
the body by the operations of the mind, he has not raised
himself above the mechanism of his art, nor does he rank
with the poet or historian.

It is a happy characteristic of the present times, that a
love of the fine arts is becoming more and more preva-
lent among the affluent; but still, rich furniture, mere
ornamental painting and gilding, usurp the place of art
properly so called. The mansion of an English nobleman
and that of a Roman of the same rank present a singular
contrast. ‘The former exhibits carpets, silk hangings, lamps,
mirrors, china, and perhaps books. The palazzo, on the
other hand, in its general aspect, may betray antiquity and
decay; yet respect for ancestry retains on its walls the
proofs of former grandeur and taste; there hang many
pictures, each of which would purchase an English villa
or furnish a London mansion in all the extravagance of
fashion. Vulgar curiosity may seek admittance to the
finery of the one, while princes are gratified by admission
to the other.

Original genius seems peculiarly necessary to excellence
in design. Good taste may be acquired by familiarity with
statues and paintings, and by the conversation of the in-
genious ; but the power of execution depends on deeper
sources. In reading Vasari, we are struck by the diffi-
culties with which the famous painters had to struggle.
There is hardly one of them who had not to combat

4 INTRODUCTION.

parental authority before obtaining leave to give up his days
to painting; nor is it surprising that there should be an
unwillingness to permit a youth to dedicate his life to an

art so little gainful, where extraordinary excellence alone

obtains notice, and hardly ever an adequate reward. I
speak of the higher department of art.

Much has been done at home by the force of genius
alone. Our native artists have vindicated us from the
aspersion of Winckelman, that genius for the fine arts is
stinted in these northern climes,— a notion which has so
extensively prevailed, as even to have influenced our own
Milton :—

‘“‘ Unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.”

Winckelman, in his history of ancient art, seems to
attribute all to climate; not only the perfection of form of
the inhabitants of Greece, but their serenity of mind,
sweetness, and love of beauty. Such a theory would
imply that the people of Sparta and Athens must have
had the same qualities. But when Sparta triumphed, it
was in pride and rapacity: neither the general inter-
course between nations, nor commerce, nor intellectual
nor moral excellence, derived any benefit from her ascend-
ancy.* Athens has been the mistress of the world, leaving
the examples of the greatest virtues and excellence in phi-
losophy, eloquence, poetry, and art; yet she has also left
humiliating instances of tyranny, cruelty, and blood. The
history of Greece is the record of incessant wars, where
towns were sacked and citizens inhumanly massacred ;
and in Athens, war was always justified if it promised
advantage. When tried by misfortune, she was found

* Arnold’s “ History of Rome.”

INTRODUCTION. ae

wanting: during pestilence, every affection was blunted ;
and licentiousness abounded to such a degree, that history
informs us the people became brutalised. It is strange
that Winckelman should give so much to the influence of
climate, seeing that where the olive still ripens, in the
long summer of Greece, there exists not a vestige of those
virtues which were the admiration of the world; and cen-
turies have passed without a poet or philosopher appearing
in the country of Homer and Plato.

In the soil and climate of Italy, there have existed
together states of society the most dissimilar. The arts
and civilisation of Egypt and Phoenicia had taken root
among the Etruscans, and the cities of Central Italy had

made a great advance in civilisation, and certainly in the

arts, when Rome* arose to crush them. Her policy, and
the leaning of her most virtuous citizens, were adverse to

* A more just estimate is now made than formerly of the early
Romans, and of the virtues of the surrounding tribes. (Dr. Arnold’s
“ History of Rome.”) The remains discovered in the tombs of Tar-
quinii, Tuscania, Argylle, Veii, and Clusium, leave no doubt of the
high advancement of art in these cities, centuries before the founda-
tion of Rome —at least of its fabled rise under Romulus. These
cities were the adversaries of the early Romans; and, though subdued,
furnished to their masters the elements of government and of civil
policy. Rome had conquered the surrounding states, and sought to
blot out all memory of them; when new settlements of Greeks (giving
name to the district of Magna Grecia) again offered to her a more
extended field of enterprise, in which the arts of peace were once more
subjugated under her iron sway.

IfI did not believe that Providence rules in the march of nations, I
should say, that the world would have more rapidly advanced in phi-
losophy, literature, and art, but for that stern, remorseless people, ob-
stinate against instruction. We are biassed in favour of Rome from her
language containing the only record of much that, but for her conquests,
would have earlier, and with happier influence, spread over the western
world.

6 INTRODUCTION.

the arts. They feared that whilst they refined, they should
soften away those rugged and sterner qualities of the
Roman soldiers which were bestowing on them the
empire of the world. But the old virtues at length de-
clined, and the Romans came to covet the luxuries of
conquered nations, whom they could not rival in refine-
ment or the arts; so that Rome became the centre and
the common receptacle of the spoils of Egypt, Greece, and
Italy.

The inquiry into the effects of climate were an idle
one, if it did not lead to the conviction, that institutions,
much more than climate, influence the faculties of man.
Indolence steals upon communities as well as individuals. |
In the same regions, and in the same climate, the in-
habitants are at one time overwhelmed in ignorance and
superstition, and at another, elevated to the most admired
intellectual exertions. When the energies of a people are
roused, there is an improvement in the arts of peace,
however gloomy and foreboding the struggle may at first
appear. The mind excited by public events does not
subside into indolence. In Athens the struggle for power,
and the desire of independence, forced the highest talents
to the highest station.* It was during the contests of the
free states of Italy that the arts revived.

Perhaps we should attribute the cultivation of lite-
rature and the arts in Italy more to the smallness of
the states than to the forms of their governments, for
these were of every kind. While in Rome the Pope was
an absolute sovereign, in Venice the nobility had raised
an oligarchic authority on the necks of the people; and

* See Roscoe’s introductory chapter to the “Life of Lorenzo di
Medici.”

INTRODUCTION. 7

both were distinguished from the democratic turbulence of
Florence.

In the great kingdoms of Modern Europe, princes are
surrounded by a dense body of courtiers, political agents,
and soldiers, numerous and clamorous in proportion to the
offices of command and places to be bestowed. All who
are distinguished by excellence in liberal studies are
jostled aside, and the prince knows little of men of genius,
far less does he think of making them friends. But
in the smaller states of Italy, princes sought the acquaint-
ance of men remarkable for their talents, for the cultivation
of philosophy, of the language of Greece, or of Ancient
Rome, for the improvement of their native Italian, and of
poetry, or of the fine arts; and it is pleasant to notice how
easily the presence or absence of such men affected the
splendour of the court. Amidst the more than barbaric
magnificence and riches of modern courts, certainly of
our own, the exit or entrance of such men would be
unmarked.

Perhaps the circumstance that all negotiations were
formerly conducted in Latin, and the consequent necessity
for courtiers being acquainted with the learned languages,
gave a liberal tone to the men of influence in the several
States, and a disposition to promote literature and science.

Some authors have attributed the genius of the Greeks,
and their love of philosophy and art, to the conformation
oO} tHE: Drain. ta ihe don of the skull! On this subject
I may have occasion to touch hereafter. But does not
history determine the question? The Greeks were .not
extirpated by the Roman conquests. The skulls of a
people do not change. During all the period of the
Byzantine Empire, between the reigns of Constantine and

8 INTRODUCTION.

Paleologus, luxury, sloth, and effeminacy prevailed, whilst
the people of the West of Europe were rising in moral and
intellectual energy, and in the cultivation of the mind.*
During the latter periods of Ancient Rome, a
fashion arose which conduced much to the advancement
of art, and filled the city with its thousand statues. The
Romans, like the Greeks, sought a species of immortality
by the erection of their busts and statues; they con-
secrated their friends by setting up their busts in their
temples. These being given in honour of the divinity
whom they worshipped, were preserved, even when the
personages they represented had incurred the odium of
the people, and when their statues placed in public were
cast down. This desire of obtaining the busts of illus-
trious ment explains the reason of the multitude of those
found collected in the Vatican: they are chiefly m mar-
ble; for the statues and busts in bronze and other metals,

tempted the cupidity of men in the middle ages, and
were melted down. We are struck, too, with the number
of the busts of celebrated men in proportion to those

of princes, which Visconti believes to have been owing to
the desire which, in the better ages both of Greece and
Rome, prevailed among private citizens to have them
copied, as appropriate ornaments for their libraries,
porticos, and gardens.

The remains of antiquity in Italy, the presence, though
in ruins, of temples, statues, sarcophagi, altars, and re-
lievos, account for the early revival of art in that country.

* See Prichard’s “ Physical History of Man.” He justly controverts
the idea of Blumenbach.
+ On this subject, see the Preface to Visconti’s “ Iconographie.”

INTRODUCTION. 9

These must have been the studies of Donatello* and
Ghiberti, as afterwards of Buonarotti; for sculpture led

the way to painting. Our countrymen, pursuing their

studies there, are placed under similar influences, and give
proof that it is neither genius nor devotion to the imitative
arts which is wanting in the north. But the time is past
when the people knelt down before the works of a sculp-
tor’s hands; when the Amphictyons, the council of all
Greece, gave him solemn thanks, and assigned him a
dwelling at the public expense in every city! t

It is in vain that we dream of equalling the great
works of antiquity; they were raised under tyranny and
false religions. We must hope for excellence, in a dif-
ferent condition, as the fruit of a religion of love, joy,
and peace. If the arts of design bear no relation to

that which has the greatest influence on mankind; if
a

* Tf all the great works of Grecian art had been at once disclosed, it
might not have produced the happy effect of the successive exhumation
of the splendid works of antiquity ; the excitement or, as Cicognara has
expressed it, “ un certo fermento,” kept up by the contest of princes for
these works of art, gave importance to all who sought to imitate them,
and raised them in the estimation of even the most vulgar minds. The
progress in the history of art seems to have been — First, the esta-
blishment of new families; then, the erection of splendid palaces and
the necessity or convenience of digging for materials in the foundation
of ancient buildings; next, the exhumation of fine statues, and the
emulation thence arising; lastly, the desire of having professors and
universities arose, and this took place at a time when the pontiffs were
banished from Rome.

+ Tiraboschi refers to an ancient chronicle regarding the Dominican
church of Reggio, erected in 1233, for an example of the enthusiasm
under which great edifices were built, and where all grades of society
wrought as common labourers, like emmets in an ant-hill. “ Tam parvi,
quam magni, tam nobiles, quam pedites, tam rustici, quam cives, ferebant
lapides, sablonem, et calcinam, supra dorsum corum .... et beatus ille
qui plus portare poterat,” &¢.

10 INTRODUCTION.

they stand related neither to religion, nor to the records
of history, nor to the progress of empire,— they must be
ever, as a dead language, associated with ancient times ;
and with us, nothing more than a handmaid to domestic
ornament and individual refinement and enjoyment.

Our artists should be brought to consider the changed
frame of society. No one in these modern times, however
much he may deserve the gratitude of mankind, is exalted,
as they would desire to see the proficient in art. The
young artists madden themselves by the contemplation of
antiquity, which leads to disappointment and repining age.
The last conversation I had with Flaxman, whose genius
was better estimated abroad than at home, was whilst the
old man was elevated on a great block of marble, in his
studio (Anglice, a shed). « Ay,” says he, * we shall see
what is thought of these ¢hings two hundred years hence.”
Yes, but they will have the record of these things in
stereotype, not in marble. Printing banished sculpture,
and no man now, or hereafter, in addressing the people,
will, like Fabius Maximus, or Scipio, point to the statues
of his ancestors.

Without cherishing vain regrets, there is a source of
infinite delight in art, even as cultivated among us; and
we may hold the remains of antiquity as superlative
models. Gods and goddesses we shall not again see in
marble, but the human figure in its perfection we certainly
may. The Greeks gave prizes for excelling beauty. Among
them a youth might be celebrated for the perfection of his
eyebrow; and the proportions of an Aspasia were trans-
ferred to the statue of a goddess. ‘The forms of strength
and the proportions of the victor in the games were scl-
entifically noted and recorded, whether it was for wrest-

ling, running, or pitching the discus. Here, then, were

INTRODUCTION. ll

-

studies for the sculptor, and a public to judge of the per-
fection of his work. Our connoisseurs never see the
naked figure, or, if they do, it is an academy figure,—
probably some hired artisan, with his muscles unequally
developed by the labour of his trade, — pale and shivering,
and offering none of those fine carnations which more
constant exposure gives to the body, as we see in the face,
nor haying that elegant freedom of limb, which youth,
under a genial climate and the various exercises of the

gymnasium, acquired.*

For the improvement of art, there must be a feeling in
the public in correspondence with the artist’s aspirations.t
In visiting the Sistine Chapel, I said to the eelebrated
artist who accompanied me, “ How could Michael Angelo
venture to do such things? Were such a man to arise
among us, he would meet with ridicule, or live in neglect.”

%* So conscious were some of the Grecian states of the advantages
derived from exercise, that they denied them to their slaves.

+ I cannot withhold the following instance of public feeling in
England: — When Lord Elgin brought to London the figures of the
beautiful frieze from the Parthenon of Athens, and while they remained
in his court-yard in Piccadilly, he proposed a great treat to his friends.
He had entertained an ingenious notion that, by exposing the natural
figures of some of our modern athletics in contrast with the marbles, the
perfeetion of the antique would be felt, and that we should see that the
sculptors of the best time of Greece did not deviate from nature. The
noblemen and gentlemen whom he coneeived would take an interest in
He had the boxers, the choice men of what

They stripped and sparred before the ancient
sooner

this display were invited.
is termed “the fancy.”
statues, and for one instant it was a very fine exhibition; but no
was the bulky form of Jackson, no longer young, opposed to the fine
elastic figure of the champion of all England, than a ery arose, and
“the ring” pressed forward, and ancient art and the works of Phidias
were forgotten. Such I fear is the feeling of even the better part
of the English public. Let not the young sculptor be too sanguine of

support.

12 INTRODUCTION.

But my friend said, “Do you not remember the impa-

tience of Julius to see these paintings during their exe-
cution? For Michael Angelo being unwilling to let his
unfinished work be seen, the Pope threatened to break
down the whole scaffolding on which the painting was
raised.” It was by such enthusiasm, and the consequent
encouragement of art, that Julius has justly participated
in the fame of those who made his days an era in the
world.

It is, perhaps, favourable to painting, that it has not to
contend with the excellence of antiquity. In visiting the
schools of Florence and Bologna, and the galleries of
the Vatican, we can trace the successive works of the
early painters and the progress of modern painting. In
the commencement, the subjects are such as could only be
suggested by monkish superstition and enthusiasm. They
are the representations of the wasted figures of anchorites,
or if of women, they are suffering martyrdom. Even the
Saviour, represented so full of beauty in after-time, is
painted from the dead of the lazar-house or hospital. The
purpose must have been to subdue the mind.* With
better times the influence of the Church was more
happily exercised, and finer feelings prevailed. ‘The sub-

* In the old library in Basle there is a remarkable painting of Christ
by the younger Holbein. The painter must have been where anatomy
was to be learned; for I am much mistaken if he has not painted from
‘the dead body in an hospital. It is horribly true. ‘“ There is here the
true colour of the dead body: (the Italian painters generally paint the
dead of an ivory white). Here is the rigid, stringy appearance of the
muscles about the knee. The wounds where the nails have penetrated,
the hands and feet are dark red, with extravasation round the wound,
and the hand itself of the livid colour of mortification. The eyes, too,
shew from whence he drew; the eyelids are open, the pupil raised, and a
little turned out. Holbein born here in 1489.”— Note from Journal.

INTRODUCTION. 13

jects were from the Scriptures, and noble efforts were
made, attesting a deep feeling of every condition of hu-
x manity. What we see in the churches of Italy, and
almost in every church, is the representation of innocence
and tenderness in the Madonna and Child, and in the
young St. John. Contrasted with the truth, and beauty,
and innocence of the Virgin, there is the mature beauty
and abandonment of the Magdalen. In the dead Christ,
in the swooning of the Mother of the Saviour, and in the
Marys, there is the utmost scope for the genius of the
painter. We see there, also, the grave character of mature
years in the Prophets and Evangelists, and the grandeur
of expression in Moses. In short, we have the whole

/ range of human character and expression, from the divine
~ loveliness and purity of the Infant Saviour, of angels and
saints, to the strength, fierceness, and brutality of the exe-
cutioners. ‘There, also, we may see the effort made, the

greatest of all, in imitation of the ancients, to infuse
divinity into the human beauty of that countenance, which,
though not without feeling, was superior to passion, and
in which benevolence was to be represented unclouded by
human infirmity. These were the subjects to call forth
the exertions of genius, while the rewards were the riches
of the church, and the public exhibition, m unison with
the deep feelings of the people. Thus did religion at a
later period tend to restore what it had almost destroyed
on the overthrow of Pagan idolatry. For the new-born
zeal of the first Christians sought to efface every monu-
ment of the antique religion, throwing down the statues,
destroying the mosaics and pictures, effacing every me-
morial, and razing the ancient temples, or converting them
into Christian churches.

The Church of Rome has favoured the arts in a

14 INTRODUCTION.

remarkable manner. The ceremonial and decorations of
the altar have been contrived with great felicity. He is
insensible to beauty who, being a painter, does not there
catch ideas of light and shade, and colour. The Gothic
or rich Roman architecture, the carved skreen, the
statues softened by a subdued light, form altogether a
magnificent scene. The effects of light and colour are
not matters of accident. ‘The painted glass of the high
window represents to the superficial observer no more
than the rich garments of the figures painted there.
But the combination of colours evinces science; the
yellows and greens, in due proportion with the erimsons
and blues, throw beams of an autumnal tint among the
shafts and pillars, and colour the volumes of rising in-
cense. The officials of the altar, the priests m rich vest-
ments, borrowed from the Levites under the old law,
are somewhat removed from the spectator and obscured
by the smoke of the incense.* ‘The young men flinging
the silver censers, in themselves beautiful, and making
the volumes of incense rise, give the effect of a tableau,
defying imitation; for where can there be such a com-
bination to.the eye, joimed to the emotions inspired by

the pealing organ, the deep chant, and the response

of the youthful choristers, whose voices seem to come
from the vaulted roof? There is something too in the

* If the painter requires to know these vestments, he will find an ~
account of them in Eustace’s “Classical Tour through Italy,” vol. ii.
Antiquity characterises every thing in the Roman Church; and to the
English traveller this affords additional interest. The ceremonies are
ancient; the language of the service is that which prevailed at the
period of the introduction of Christianity; the vestments are Jewish —
at all events very ancient and majestic. Like every thing else in painting,
the artist should know the origin and uses of the drapery, or his lines and
folds will be unmeaning.— (See Preface to Vasari.)

INTRODUCTION. 15

belief that the chant of the psalms is the early Jewish
measure.

It was scarcely possible, during the struggles of the
Reformation, to keep the middle course; and in re-
jecting the corrupt and superstitious parts of its cere-
monial, to retain the better part of the Roman Church.
Enthusiasm would have the recesses of each man’s breast
to be the only sanctuary; that, even while on earth, and
burdened with the weakness, and subject to the influences,
of an earth-born creature, he should attain that state of
purity and holiness, when, as in the Apocalypse, there is
‘‘no temple.” Philosophy came to countenance the po-
verty and the meanness of our places of public worship.
Climate, it was inferred, influenced the genius of a people
and, therefore, their government, and mode of worship.
The offices of religion in hot climates were said to require
some sensible object before the eyes, and hence the ve-
eration paid to statues and paintings; whilst in the
colder climes we were to substitute internal contemplation
and the exercise of reason for passion.*

We trust, or hope, that in the breasts of those who fill
the family pew, in these northern churches, there may be
more genuine devotion; but to appearance all is pale and
cold: while to the subject we are now considering, at least,
no aid is afforded. What a contrast is offered to the eye
of the painter by the figures seen in the churches of the
Roman Catholic countries of the south, as compared with
those in our own! ‘There are seen men in the remote
aisles or chapels, cast down in prayer, and abandoned to

* Some such thoughts must have come early into my mind, in trying
my pencil on the ruins of an ancient abbey ; and when, afterwards
within the Rirk, I looked to the rafters, as of a barn, and saw the

swallows flying about during divine service.

16 INTRODUCTION.

their feelings with that unrestrained expression which
belongs to the Italian from his infancy: and even the
beggars who creep about the porches of the churches are
like nothing we see nearer home. In them we recognise
the figures familiar to us in the paintings of the great
masters. In visiting the church of the Annunziata in Genoa,
I found a beggar lying in my way, the precise figure of the
lame man in the cartoon of Raphael. He lay extended at
full length upon the steps, crawling with the aid of a short
crutch, on which he rested with both his hands. In
Roman Catholic countries the church-door is open, and a
heavy curtain excludes the light and heat; and there he
about those figures in rags, singularly picturesque.

In short, the priests in their rich habiliments, stu-
diously arranged for effect, — the costume of the monks of
the order of St. Francis and the Capuchins,— the men
and women from the country, and the mendicants prostrate
in the churches, and in circumstances as to light and
shade, and colour, nowhere else to be seen,— have been,
and are, the studies of the Italian painters.

Again, in passing from the galleries of Rome to the
country and villages around, we cannot doubt where Ra-
phael and Dominichino found their studies and prettiest
models. The holyday dress of the young women in the
villages is the same with that which we see in their
paintings; and as each village has something distin-
guishing and characteristic, and still picturesque in its
costume, much is left for good taste to select and
combine.

When a man of genius, nurtured in his art at Rome,
where every thing conspires to make him value his occu-

pations, returns home to comparative neglect, he is not to

be envied. He wants sympathy and associates. David

INTRODUCTION. 17

Allan, the Scottish Hogarth,* in a letter to Gavin Ha-
milton, whom he had left in Rome, laments the want of
living models, and the defective sensibility of his coun-
trymen. He says, we rarely see in this country a counte-
nance like that of a Franciscan or an Italian beggar, so
full of character, so useful to the study of history painting.
But, he adds, we have nature, and with the assistance of
ancient models and casts from the Greek statues, —
may be accomplished.

* See his beautiful edition of the “Gentle Shepherd.” While a
child, I remember him as a kind and somewhat facetious old gentleman,
but chiefly because he gave me drawings to copy and called me “ Brother

Brush.”

Drawn by Charles Bell i eraved by | Edw? Scriven.

RE Se 8

ESSAY I.

OF THE PERMANENT FORM OF THE HEAD AND FACE, IN
CONTRADISTINCTION TO EXPRESSION.

Mucu has been written, and gracefully and agreeably
written, on the sources of Beauty; yet I cannot help
thinking that, by losing sight of nature, and what may
be justly called the philosophy of the subject, the right
principle has not been attained.

Beauty of countenance may be defined in words, as well
as demonstrated in art.

A face may be beautiful in sleep, and a statue without
expression may be highly beautiful. On the other hand,
expression may give charm to a face the most ordinary.
Hence it appears that our inquiry divides itself into—the
permanent form of the head and face; and the motion of
the features, or the expression.

But it will be said, there is expression in the sleeping
figure, or in the statue. Is it not rather that we see in
these the capacity for expression? that our minds are
active in imagining what may be the motions of these fea-
tures when awake or animated? Thus we speak of an
expressive face before we have seen a movement grave or
cheerful, or any indication in the features of what prevails

in the heart. Avoiding a mere distinction in words, let
D

20 FORM OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

us consider first, Why a certain proportion and form of
face is beautiful, and conveys the notion of capacity of
expression; and, secondly, the movements or the actual
expression of emotion. JI believe that it is the confusion
between the capacity of expression, and the actual indica-
tion of thought, which is the cause of the extraordinary
difficulty in which the subject is involved, and which has
made it be called a mystery: La beauté est un des plus
grands mystéres de la nature.

A countenance may be distinguished by being ex-
pressive of thought; that is, it may indicate the possession
of the intellectual powers. It is manly, it is human; and
yet not a motion is seen to shew what feeling or senti-
ment prevails. On the other hand, there may be a move-
ment of the features, and the quality of thought, — af-
fection, love, joy, sorrow, gratitude, or sympathy with suf-

fering, — is immediately declared. A countenance which,

in ordinary conditions, has nothing remarkable, may
become beautiful in expression. It is expression which
raises affection, which dwells pleasantly or painfully on
the memory. When we look forward to the meeting with
those we love, it is the illuminated face we hurry to meet ;
and none who have lost a friend but must acknowledge
that it is the evanescent expression, more than the per-
manent form, which is painfully dear to them.

It is a prevailing opinion that beauty of countenance
consists in the capacity of expression, and in the harmony
of the features consenting to that expression.* ‘The author

* Great names may be quoted — Plato, Cicero, and St. Augustin,
down to our own professors. “ Et ut corporis est quedam apta
figura membrorum, cum coloris quadam suavitate, eaque dicitur pul-
chritudo: Sic in animo opinionum judiciorumque equabilitas, et con-
stantia, cum firmitate quadam et stabilitate . . . . . pulchritudo

FORM OF THE HEAD AND FACE. Q1

of the “Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste”
denies any original or positive beauty to the human
countenance.

Those who have professedly written on the antique
say, that, to arrive at the perfection of the ancient statue,
the artist must avoid what is human, and aim at the
divine.* But we speak of what stands materially before
us, to be seen, touched, and measured. With what divine
essence is the comparison to be made? When the artist
models his clay, he must have recourse to some abstract
idea of perfection in his own mind; whence has he drawn
his idea of perfection? This brings us to the right path
in the inquiry: the idea of representing divinity 1s
palpably absurd ; we know nothing of form but from the
contemplation of man.

The only interpretation of divinity in the human
figure, as represented by the ancient sculptors, is, that the
artists avoided individuality; that they studied to keep
free of resemblance to any individual; giving no indica-
tion of the spirit, or of the sentiments or affections ; con-
ceiving that all these movements destroy the unity of the
features, and are foreign to beauty in the abstract.

In proceeding to define beauty, all that the writers on
art have been able to affirm is, that it is the reverse of
deformity. Albert Durer so expresses himself. If we

Burton, in the Objects of Love, quotes thus :—

vocatur.”— Cicero.
ositi, ex congruente ordine, mensura et

“ Pulchritudo est perfectio comp
ratione partium consurgens.”

* << Se la figura era humana, vi facevano tutto quello, que appartiene
alla proprieta, e qualita dell’ uomo. Se poi era divina, esse tralasciavano
la qualita umane e sceglievano unicamente le divine.’— Mengs. Again,
Winckelman, “La beauté supréme réside en Dieu. L’idée de la beauté
aison de sa conformité et de son harmonie

Ll’ Art.

humaine se perfectionne a r
avec l’Etre Supréme,” &c.— Winckelman, Histoire de

22 FORM OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

intend the representation of beauty, then let us mark de-
formity, and teach ourselves to avoid it. ‘The more remote
from deformity, the nearer the approach to beauty. So
Mengs: “La bellezza e Vlopposito della bruttezza.”
Leonardo da Vinci, attributed much to comparison. He
searched for ugliness. If he saw an uncommon face,— if
it were a caricature of expression,— he would follow it,
and contrive to look at the individual in all aspects.
He would pursue a curiosity of this kind for a whole
day, until he was able to go home and draw it.* We
have here the practical result of the theory, which is,
to study the deformities, in order to learn to avoid them ;
and certainly the effect was admirable, since we know, as

his biographer has written, that his painting of beauty

raised love in all beholders.t

* « Piolid tanto gusto nel dipingere cose bizzarre et alterate, che
s’egli s'imbatteva in qualche villano che con viso strano et alquanto fuor
del ordinario, dasse un poco nel ridiculo invaghito dalla bizzarria dell’ob-
bietto, l’haverebbe sequitato un giorno intiero, fin a tanto c’havendone
una perfetta idea, ritornato a casa lo disegnava come se l’havesse havuto
presente.” — Vasari.

+ This great painter ascribed much importance to contrast in paint-
ing, bringing extremes together,— chil brutto sia vicina al bello, et il
vecchio al giovane, et il debole al forte; and such appears, on many
occasions, to have been the principle which directed the old masters.
“ The statue of Venus may stand alone; but not so the painting of
the goddess by Titian, — there are two hideous old women introduced
for contrast. — The Florentine Gallery. We may take a further illus-
tration from the finest picture in Italy —the Archangel Michael’ sub-
duing Satan, which is in the convent of the Capuchins in Rome, painted
by Guido. The beauty of the angel is perfect; the face is undisturbed
by passion. It conveys to us with how little effort the superior nature
subdues the monster who lies howling, and on which he puts his feet.
The expansion of the wings is grand; and the manner in which the
drapery encircles him indicates the motion of descent,— that he has
alighted! We have all the contrast between a face convulsed by bad
passion, and the serenity and beauty of virtue.” — Notes from Journal.

FORM OF THE HEAD AND FACE. 23

If a painter entertains the idea that there 1s some
undefined beauty, distinct from nature, which is in his
own mind, his works will want that variety which is
in nature, and we shall see in his paintings the same
countenance continually reproduced. We are informed
that Raphael, in painting the head of Galatea, found no
beauty deserving to be his model; he is reported to
have said, that there is nothing so rare as perfect
beauty in woman; and that he substituted for nature
a certain idea inspired by his own fancy. ‘This is a
mistake: painters have nothing in their heads but what
has been put there. There is no power in us “to dis-
engage ourselves from material things, and to rise into a
sphere of intellectual ideas,” and least of all in what re-
gards man. In the Palazzo Farnesina, there are frescoes
by Raphael and his scholars, demonstrating to me the
nature of those studies which at length enabled him to

compose, not to copy, the beautiful Galatea; that he first
drew from what he saw, and finally avoided imperfections,

and combined excellencies.*
We shall arrive at a better understanding of this

subject, by inquiring into the peculiar form and beauty of

the antique.

%* «Palazzo Farnesina. Saw the Frescoes of Raphael. Some, finished
by his scholars from his outline — only one finished by himself. What I
most admire is the beauty and variety of his female heads, especially the
different manner in which he has bound up the hair and let it flow about
the neck and shoulders; and yet he may have found all this, selecting
from what may be seen in the streets. Here is the Galatea !”— Note

Srom Journal.

24

OF THE PERMANENT FORM OF THE HEAD, AND THE
PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

Pleased as all are with the variety in the human coun-
tenance, and desirous of discovering why, in the antique
statue, that is beautiful, which is not found in nature, we
seek for some means of more accurate survey, some rule by
which we may measure proportions.

The scientific principle is deducible from this, — that
the outward forms result from the degree of developement
of the contained organs. ‘The most obvious plan, and that
which has been most generally adopted, of examining the
proportions, is by a comparison of the size of the head
with that of the face; understanding by the head, the
brain-case, as contaiing the organ of intellect; and by
the face, the seat of the collected organs of the senses.

But we are not prompted, naturally, to institute this
comparison, or estimate the dimensions of the whole
head. Both nature and custom teach us, every moment,
to scan the features; and to look there for what is to ani-
mate, to charm, or to grieve us. Every scheme by which
it shall be proposed to elicit the reasons of our feelings of
admiration, love, or disgust, by measuring the comparative
areas of the head and face, will fail.

Nor will that comparison enable us to mark the grada-
tions in the heads of animals; because the peculiarities in
the skulls of brutes either result from, or are connected
with, the developement of particular organs. Those organs
have relation to the existence of the animal, to its means
of procuring nourishment, the pursuit of its prey, or the
mode of avoiding its enemies; and the difference in the
relative size of their instruments of prehension, or in
that of their ears, eyes, or organs of smelling, will entirely

a eS —

OUI. cere ee ee eee

PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE. Q5

disturb the line of demarcation between the™brain-case and
the face. The vast mass of the brain in man, must have
an effect on the’conformation of the whole head; it causes
the uppergpart of the face to be thrown forwards: thus at
once distinguishing him from the brute, and smarking su-
periority of intellect. But when we consider the condition
of the lower animals, we must take into our calculation,
not intellectual properties, but the instincts of brutes ; and
the measurement of the face, as compared with the size
of the brain, fails us altogether.

I must speak with respect of this suggestion of mea-
suring the face against the head, since it has been enter.
tained by John Hunter, Camper, Blumenbach, and Cuvier.
I shall, however, direct what I have to say on the subject
principally to the works of Camper.

If we are to study the form of the human head, seen in
profile, we ‘must obtain a line, which shall be permanent,
on which we can raise a perpendicular, and so commence a
more accurate survey than by the unassisted eye.

If we present a skull in profile, or draw it thus with
the pen, we may begin by tracing a horizontal line, which
shall pass through the foramen of the ear and the alveoli or
sockets of the front or incisor teeth of the upper jaw. On

26 PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

this we can raise an oblique line, touching the sockets
of the teeth and the most prominent point of the forehead,
or of the frontal bone. ‘This is the facial line of Camper ;
and by its obliquity it will be, to a certain degree, the
measure of the relative proportion of the areas or spaces
occupied by the brain and the face. Another line may be
drawn, which will divide the brain-case from the face ;
commencing at the foramen of the ear, it will touch the
upper margin of the orbit. 7

\
i)
=

~K.

/

On looking to these illustrations of Albert Durer, it is
apparent that he entertained and practised this mode of
distinguishing the forms of the head.

But the idea of the facial line was suggested to Camper
on examining certain antique gems. He observed that, in
imitating these, the artists failed, from neglecting to throw
forward the head, so as to make the line which touched the
forehead and teeth nearly perpendicular. J*or by this line
he thought that he had got the key to the whole difficulty,
as marking the distinctions in the natural head, compared

PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE. 27

with the antique. He conceived that when he drew a
profile so that the forehead and lips touched the perpen-
dicular line, he obtained the characters of an antique

head. If, on the other hand, he let this line fall back, and
accommodated the outline of the head to it, he diminished
the beauty and perfection of the form. For example, if
the line formed an angle of seventy, it became the head of
a Negro; if declining backwards still farther, by the
depression of the brain-case, say to sixty, it declared the
face of an orang-outang; and so, down to the dog.

To a certain extent, this ingenious mode will be found
useful. Had the Count Caylus been guided by it in his
great work on Antiquities, his figures, in many instances,
would have been better drawn. But even in respect to the

rh

2 ae AT
TNT

Sear eT Tian eT a a
— SLI eR ET

28 PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

state of the human brain, this line does not fully answer the
purpose. In the skulls of certain nations the depression
of the forehead is so great, that the line drawn from the
alveolar processes to the frontal sinus, does not even touch
the frontal bone.

Camper’s position is this, that as, by the diminution
of the cranium and the further inclination of the facial line,
the head is depressed in character to that of the Negro ;

so, by raising and throwing the skull upwards and for-
wards, until the facial line reaches the perpendicular, as
in the preceding page, the great object is attained of
resemblance to the antique head.

But his own figures contradict his conclusion; for,

PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE. 29

although he has thrown the head forward in them, even
beyond the perpendicular of the facial line, yet, as he has
preserved the features of common nature, we refuse to

acknowledge their similarity to the beautiful forms of
the antique marbles. It is true, that, by advancing the
forehead, it is raised; the face is shortened, and the eye
brought to the centre of the head. But with all this,
there is much wanting, —that which measurement or a
mere line will not shew us.

The truth is, that we are more moved by the features
than by the form of the whole head. Unless there be a

30 PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE.

conformity in every feature to the general shape of the
head, throwing the forehead forward on the face produces
deformity ;* and the question returns with full force :—

How is it that we are led to concede that the antique head

of the Apollo or of the Jupiter is beautiful, when the facial
line makes a hundred degrees with the horizontal line?
In other words, How do we admit that to be beautiful
which is not natural? Simply for the same reason that if
we discover a broken portion of an antique, a nose, or a
chin, of marble, we can say, without deliberation, this
must have belonged to a work of antiquity ; which proves
that the character is distinguishable in every part,—in
each feature, as well as in the whole head.

We must assume a new principle, and it is this—that

* I have here sketched the profile of a poor begging Negro in con-
trast with the head of M. Agrippa, in which the artist has dignified the
character on the principle stated by Camper; but, it is here apparent
that the manly dignity results from the character of each feature, even
more than from the facial line. It is seen in the eye, in the nose, mouth,
and chin; each of which are in as much contrast with those of the Negro,
as is the shape of the whole head.

PROPORTIONS OF THE HEAD AND FACE. 31

in the face there is a character of nobleness observable,
depending on the developement of certain organs which
indicate the prevalence of the higher qualities allied to
thought, and therefore human. A great mistake has pre-
vailed in supposing that the expansion of some organs in
the face of man, marks a participation in the character of
the brute: that the fully developed nose indicates the
grovelling propensities, and the extended mouth, the fero-
city, of the lower animals. Let us correct this misconcep-
tion by considering the properties or uses of the mouth. It
is for feeding certainly, but it is also for speech. Extend
the jaws, project the teeth, widen the mouth, and a
carnivorous propensity is declared ; but concentrate the
mouth, give to the chin fulness and roundness, and due
form to the lips; shew through them the quality of elo-
quence, of intelligence, and of human sentiments, — and
the nobleness is enhanced, which was only in part indicated,
by the projection of the forehead. Now, look to the antique
head and say, is the mouth for masticating, or for speech
and expression of sentiment? So of the nose. Here, even
Cuvier mistook the principle. The nose on a man’s face
has nothing in common with the snout of a beast. The
prominence of the nose, and of the lower part of the fore-
head, and the developement of the cavities in the centre of
the face, aie all concerned in the voice. This is ascer-
tained by the manliness of voice coming with the full de-
velopement of these parts.* Nothing sensual is indicated by
the form of the human nose; although, by depressing it and
joining it to the lip,—the condition of the brute,—as in
the satyr, the idea of something sensual is conveyed.

A comparison of the eye and the ear brings out the
principle more distinctly. Enlarge the orbit, magnify the

* These cavities do not exist in the child, and only attain their full
size in the adult.

32 FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

eyes; let them be full, clear, piercing, full of fire, still they
combine with the animated human countenance. They
imply a capacity consistent with human thought, a vivacity
and intelligence partaking of mind. But large pendulous
ears, or projecting and sharp ears, belong to the satyr; for
man is not to be perpetually watchful, or to be startled and
alarmed by every noise.

If we consider for a moment what is the great mark of
distinction between man and brutes, we shall perceive that
it is SPEECH: for it corresponds to his exalted intellectual
and moral endowments. Speech implies certain inward
propensities, a conformity of internal organs, and a peculi-
arity of nervous distribution; but it also implies a par-
ticular outward character or physiognomy, a peculiar form
of the nostrils, jaws, mouth, and lips. These latter are the
visible signs of this high endowment.

Then, again, as to sentiment, —laughter and weep-

ing, and sympathy with those in pleasure or in pain,
characterise human beings, and are indicated by the same
organs. Hence, the capacity of expression in the nostril and
mouth, are peculiar attributes of the human countenance.

SOME FURTHER OBSERVATIONS ON THE FORM AND PROPOR-
TIONS OF THE SKULL, AND BONES OF THE FACE.

Let us return with more just principles to the study of —
the lines marking the regions of the face and head.

A. line drawn from the tube of the ear to the eyebrow,
or prominence of the frontal bone, and one from the
same point to the chin, include the face in a triangle.
If another line be drawn to the lowest point of the
nose, we divide the face ito two regions; the lower
occupied by the masticating apparatus of teeth, jaws, and
their muscles. If this alone be enlarged, the effect is an

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 38

encroachment on the nose and orbit, and the face loses all
dignity and form. ‘The eye is especially diminutive, and
the nose misshapen.

It will be found that the jaws correspond with the
general skeleton; very tall men, especially if gigantic,
have large jaws, and comparatively small heads. In

ricketty deformity of the bones, the character of the face

is exhibited, as in this sketch, by a defect in the size of
E

34 FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

the jaw-bones, which have yielded to the action of their
muscles. The qualities of mind, evinced in expression,
may redeem any degree of deformity; but the peculiarity
of the countenance here, is that of rickets; the prominence
of the forehead arises merely from the accumulation of
bone, and not from a superior developement of the brain.
We have a further opportunity of observing that the

projection of the facial line, unaccompanied with due
conformity of features, only adds to the deformity.*
Blumenbach, dissatisfied with the facial line of Camper,
contrived a different mode of distinguishing the capacities
of the head and face. He selected two bones of the skull ;
the frontal bone as representing the developement of the
cranium or brain-case; and the superior maxillary bone, as

the seat of the organs of sense, which are considered as
opposite to the intellectual properties. He placed the

* “Tn visiting the Villa Albani, among the indescribable beauties
which are every where around us, the party was amused with my atten-
tion being fixed upon the statue of a deformed person. I was indeed
struck with the truth of the representation: the manner in which the ribs
are distorted, the head sunk upon the breast, and the exaggeration of
certain muscles, consequent upon displacement of the bones. I was
thinking of the accurate conception which the ancients had of human
anatomy, and the precision with which they copied from nature.

“This is said to be a statue of Esop, and on referring to Visconti, where
he treats of the fabulist, I see that his engraving of the statue, beautiful
as it is, is deficient in what appeared to me a due correspondence in the
countenance, and the distortion of the body. On comparing it with a
sketch I had made, I find that I have marked more distinctly the position
of the head, the projection of the chin, and the fulness of the forehead
characteristic of that defect in the face which arises from the jaw
yielding to the action of the muscles during the age when the bones
are soft.

“‘ Visconti discovers in the face a spirituality quite in contrast with
that expression which the ancients give to buffoons, and dwarfs, whose
physiognomy they always make ridiculous.” — Note from Journal.

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 35

vertex of the skull towards him, so as to look over the brow
or forehead ; and then he noted how much the bones of the
cheek, the nose, and the upper jaw projected beyond the
level of the frontal bone. ‘This method he used as better
suited to mark the peculiarities of the national head; and
to be employed in the skull rather than in the living head.
It may be useful, but it is manifestly imperfect. The
breadth of the face may be noted in this manner; but it
will better serve the purpose of the artist to draw the face
in front, and to apply the principle already explained, in
the profile.

It was observed in the preceding pages, that the
different plans of measuring the head might assist in
pointing out the varieties in the form of the head; but
that for distinguishing what is acknowledged by all to be
beautiful in the antique, none of them proceeded on a just
principle. A circumstance to which Professor Gibson, of
Philadelphia, then my pupil, first drew my attention, con-
vinced me that the methods which physiologists had prac-
tised were very incorrect. He placed before me the skull
of an European and of a Negro; and resting them both |
on the condyles of the occipital bone, as the head is sup-
ported on the spine, it appeared that the European fell
forward, and the African backward. ‘This seemed re-
markable, when both physiologists and physiognomists
were describing the greater comparative size of the face,
as the grand peculiarity of the African head. I was
desirous of investigating this matter further.

The difficulty of finding a line by which to measure
the inclination of the face would be removed, if we were
to take the head as fairly balanced on the articulating
surfaces of the atlas, or first bone of the spe; but in the

acne
~ SS

a
pI ==

Oe =

io

36 FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

living body, it will not be easy to fix the head in the
equipoise. Something may be attained by comparing the
general position of the head, in the European and the
Negro; but nothing approaching to the accuracy which
observation pretending to science, requires.

To find a line which should not vary, but enable us to
measure with correctness the angles both of the facial
line, and of the line intermediate between the cranium
and the face, I poised the skull upon a perpendicular
rod, by passing the point through the foramen magnum
into the interior of the skull, so that the upper part of
the cranium rested on the point. By shifting the skull
till the rod was exactly betwixt the condyles of the occi-
pital bone, and in the centre of the foramen magnum, I
procured the line which was wanted.

I now divided into degrees, or equal parts, the great
convexity of the cranium, from the setting on of the nose
on the fore part, to the margin of the foramen magnum
behind ; and having so prepared several skulls for adjust-
ment on the rod, I began to make my observations.

In comparing the European skull with that of the
Negro, the point of the rod in the latter, touched the
inside of the cranium several degrees nearer to the bones
of the face, or more forward on the cranium, than the
former.

On measuring the angle of the facial line of Camper
with this perpendicular line, in a European skull the most
perfect in form of any I possessed, I found the difference
to be ten degrees.

The cause of the difference being much greater between
the European and African skull, in this way of measuring,
than by Camper’s plan is, that here the facial line has

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 37

reference to the whole form and proportion of the head;
whereas in Camper’s measurement it marks only the
inclination of the face.

\
(one

Z
S
z
Z

We have now an explanation of the peculiarity in the
position of the Negro’s head, the upward inclination of the
face, and the falling back of the occiput. And here too we
have it proved, that it is an error to suppose the Negro
head to be remarkable in character on account of any
Increase in the proportion of the bones of the face, to the

38 _ FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

cranium; for the area of the bones of the face is in this
way shewn to bear a less proportion to that of the bones
of the cranium, in the Negro than in the European head.

My next object of inquiry was to find on what the
distinctive character of the Negro face really depends.
For to the eye the Negro face appears larger, while in fact
it is proved to be smaller than the European, considered
in relation to the cranium. I took off the lower jaw-bones
from both the European and the Negro skull; and then,
in order to poise the skulls on the perpendicular rod, it
was required to move both forward on the point of the
rod. But it was found necessary to shift the Negro skull
considerably farther forward than the European: the
point of the rod thus indicating by its removal backward
on the scale, that the lower jaw of the Negro bore a
greater proportion to the skull than that of the European.
The facial line was of course thrown farther backwards in
both skulls on taking away the jaw; but the jaw of the
Negro being larger than that of the European, the in-
clination backward was greater in the Negro skull. Pro-
ceeding to take away the upper jaws, and then the whole
bones of the face, the index on the surface of the
cranium shewed that the jaw-bones of the Negro bore a
much greater proportion to the head and the other bones
of the face, than those of the European skull; and that
| the apparent magnitude of the bones of the Negro face
'. resulted from the size and form of, the jaw-bones alone,
while the upper bones of the face, and indeed all that
had not relation to the teeth and mastication, were less
than those of the European skull.

In proceeding with these experiments, I changed the
manner of noting the variations in the inclination of the

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 39

cranium ; because I perceived that an index, marked on
the convexity of the skull, varied according to the form of
the head. Preserving the principle, I measured the in-
clination of the cranium by an angle formed by the per-
pendicular line (4 B) and a line (ac) intermediate between
the cranium and the face. On poising the cranium on
the rod, after taking away all the bones of the face, it
appeared that the Negro cranium had the line elevated
nearly ten degrees more than the European. I also found,
on comparing the cranium of a child with that of an adult,
that it was deficient in the relative proportions of weight
and capacity on the forepart—that the line was depressed
by the size of the forehead increasing in proportion to
the advance in maturity.

On looking attentively to these skulls, it was evident
that there were distinctions to be observed in the form
of the cranium itself, independently of the proportions
between the face and cranium; that these varieties de-
pended on the form of the brain, and proceeded (I think
we may conclude) from the more or less complete deve-
lopement of the organ of the mind. In the infant there is
a deficiency of weight, and a less ample area in the higher
and anterior part of the brain-case. I say less ample, only
in comparison with that which we may estimate as the
Standard, viz. the adult European. In the Negro, besides
the greater weakness and lightness in the bones of the
-Whole skull, there is a remarkable deficiency of length
in the head forward, producing a narrow and depressed
forehead ; whereas a large capacious forehead is allowed
to be the least equivocal mark of perfection in the
head.

Having been brought by this more accurate method of

4.0 FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

measuring the skull, to observe distinctions not only in the
cranium and bones of the face, but in the face itself, and
in the cranium independently of the face, I wished, in the
next place, to consider more at large the varieties in the
form of the face, and the cause of the secret influence of
certain forms on our judgment of beauty.

From the examination of the heads, both of men and
brutes, and of the skulls of a variety of animals, I think
there is reason to conclude, that the external character
consists more in the relative proportions of the parts of
the face to each other, than has been admitted. On
first consideration we are apt to say, that in the beautiful
form of the human countenance the likeness of the brute
is inadmissible; that wherever we see a resemblance to
the brute in the form of the whole countenance, or in
the particular features, it implies degradation. But
this is true to a limited extent only: and how far it
extends, the examination of the uses of the parts will
inform us.

We have therefore again to inquire, which are the
nobler features of the face, and what belong to the inferior
functions.

In examining the mouth and jaws of animals we shall
be convinced that the form of the bones is adapted to
the necessities of the creature, independently altogether
of the sense of taste; that in man, whose jaw-bones are
smaller than those of other animals, this sense is most
perfect, most exquisite in degree, and suited to the greatest
variety in its exercise. Turning to the skulls of the
horse and the lion, we shall see that the one is fitted for
powerful mastication, and the other for tearing and lacer-

ating, not for cutting or grinding; and if we examine the

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 41

form of the teeth more narrowly, we shall perceive that
there must necessarily be a form of the jaw corresponding
to these actions. In the lion, the tiger, and all carnivorous
animals, much of the character of the face lies in the
depth of the jaw forward; because this depth is necessary
for the socketing of the long canine teeth. When, on the
contrary, the jaw is deep and strong towards the back part,
it is for the firm socketing of the grinding teeth, and is
characteristic of the form of the head of the horse, and
of all graminivorous animals. There is also a peculiar
form of the head and distinct expression, in the rodentia,
and such animals as have to pierce shells for their food,
as the monkeys, which is produced by their cutting teeth
being placed at right angles in their jaws, for the action of
gnawing.

Now it certainly is by that unconscious operation of the
fancy, that associating power which has a constant in-
fluence on our opinions, that a human face with pro-
tuberant jaws seems degraded to the brutal character ;
that the projection of the incisor teeth especially gives a
remarkable expression of meanness; while we see that the
enlargement of the canine teeth, as in the demons of the
Last Judgment of Michael Angelo, produces an air of
Savageness and ferocity.*

When we consider further the muscles appropriated to
the motions of the jaws, we may comprehend why it should
be thought a deformity when the zygoma (the arch of
bone on the temple) is remarkably prominent. It is en-
larged to permit the massy temporal muscle by which the
jaw is closed to act freely, and its form corresponds with
the size of the jaw, and with the canine teeth. This will

* Fairy Queen, Book IV. cant. vii. 5.

Se

an manners er ae

SS

ra”

erm

Scan i a

42 FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL,

be very evident if we place the human skull beside the
skull of the horse, the lion, the bull, the tiger, the sheep,
the dog, &c.

It has already been said that a comparison of the area
of the bones of the head and face in different animals will
not inform us of the relative perfection of the brain in
its exercise. But still we may recognise, in the form of the
jaws and bill, the beast or bird of rapine; in the breadth
and extent of the central cavities of the face, the seat of
the organ of smelling, tribes which hunt their prey ; in
the prominent eye placed more laterally, timid animals
which are the objects of the chase; and in the large
socket and great eyeball, the character of such as prowl by
night. With these variations in the perfection of the out-
ward senses, there are, no doubt, corresponding changes in
the brain, and therefore, in the instincts and habits of
animals.

In obtaining a line which shews with precision the
bearings of all the parts of the head, I think that I have
reduced this subject to greater simplicity; and have been
able to make observations more correctly than by the
methods hitherto in use :—I have shewn that the relative
capacity of the cranium or brain-case to that of the face, as
containing the organs of the senses, is insufficient to mark
the scale of intellect, or to explain the distinctions of
character in the human head :—That the perfection of the
human head greatly consists in the increase of the cranium
forward; in the full and capacious forehead; and that the
cranium of the Negro, when compared with the perfect
cranium of a European, has less capacity at the fore-part.*

* In comparing the skulls of men with those of brutes, e. g. the
chimpanzee, it cannot be just to measure the proportions of the cranium
behind the foramen of the occipital bone; for that foramen must corre-

AND BONES OF THE FACE. 45

It has been shewn that in the Negro the whole of the face
is actually. smaller, instead of being greater, when com-
pared with the brain-case, than that of the European ;
but that the jaws, contrasted with the other parts of the
face, are larger. The conclusion to which these views
lead is, that some principle must be sought for, not yet
acknowledged, which shall apply not only to the form of
the whole head, but also to the individual parts. This
principle, I imagine, is to be found in the form of the
face as bearing relation to its various functions; not those
of the senses merely, but of the parts contained in or
attached to the face—the organs of mastication, the organs
of speech, and the organs of expression.

And here it is to be observed, that it is not necessarily
a deformity that a feature resembles that of a lower animal.
In our secret thoughts the form has a reference to the func-
tion. If the function be allied to intellect, or is connected

with mind (as the eye especially is), then there is no
incompatibility with the human countenance, though the
organ should bear a resemblance to the same part in a

brute; whereas, if it has a relation to the meaner ne-
cessities of animal life, as the jaws, or the teeth, the effect
1s incompatible, and altogether at variance with human
physiognomy.

If we take the antique as the model of beauty in the
human head, we shall confess that a prominent cheek-bone,
or a jaw-bone large and square behind, is: a defect ; that
the great depth of face, produced by the length of the
teeth, is also a deformity; that the projecting jaws are still
worse ; and, above all, that the monkey-like protrusion of

spond with the spine on which the head rests; and the position of the
animal, monkey, or quadruped, must determine the connexion of the
Spine and skull.

F

44; FORM AND PROPORTIONS OF THE SKULL, ETC.

the fore teeth takes away from the dignity of human
expression. |

When the principles that sway our secret thoughts are
discovered, and when by a comparison of the parts of the
head anatomically, a secure foundation is laid for the
accurate observation of nature, the lines of Camper and
Blumenbach will aid us in the examination of character ;

but these methods of measurement are, of themselves,
imperfect, and, being founded on a mistaken principle,
they lead to unsatisfactory conclusions.

ESSAY II.

CHANGES FROM INFANCY TO AGE. OF THE SKULL, AS PRO-
TECTING THE BRAIN. OF THE CHARACTERS OF BRUTES.
NATIONAL PECULIARITIES.

Tue bones, and the parts which cover them, or are
contained within them, grow, as it were, by one impulse, so
that they correspond together ; the fleshy lips of the Negro

4:6 CHANGES FROM INFANCY TO AGE.

are suited to his large protuberant teeth. Among our-
selves, a square jaw-bone is attended by a thickness and
heaviness of the cheeks and lips; and if the canine teeth,
the strong corner teeth, be unusually long and prominent,
there is not only a coarseness and heaviness of a different
kind, but a certain irascibility of expression. In women
and young persons with large incisor teeth, there is a
pretty fulness and ripeness of the lips.

The whole character of the face of a child results from
the fleshy parts and integuments being calculated, if I may
use such a term, for the support of larger bones than they
possess in early years. The features are provided for the
erowth and developement of the bones of the face, and
hence the fulness, roundness, and chubbiness of infancy.

There are some other peculiarities in infancy. For
example: the head is of an elongated and oval form, its
greatest length being in the direction from the forehead
to the occiput; the forehead is full, but flat at the eye-
brows, and the whole part which contains the brain is re-
latively large; the jaw-bones, and the other bones of the
face, are diminutive; the neck is small compared with the
size of the head, owing to the peculiar projection of the back
of the head (or occiput).

Compare the outline of the infant’s head with that of
the boy, and the effect of the expansion of the bones of
the face in bestowing the characteristic form of youth, will
be apparent. The face in the youth is lengthened, and is
less round than that of the infant. The brow, however, is
not enlarged in proportion to the increase of the lower
part of the face; though the form is so far changed that a
prominent ridge is now developed along the course of the
eye-brows.

This ridge (the supra-orbitary) is caused by a cavity

CHANGES FROM INFANCY TO AGE. 4'7

which is formed in this part of the head by the layers of
the frontal bone (or os frontis). It is the enlargement
of this cavity (called the frontal sus) that makes the
prominence over the eyes which is peculiar to manhood.

From. infancy to adolescence, there is a great increase
in the size of the upper jaw-bone (the superior maxillary
bone). This is chiefly owing to its containing within it
another cavity (the maxillary sinus); which, like the
frontal sinus, becomes greatly developed with advancing
years. And there are several new characters given to the
countenance by the enlargement of the upper jaw-bone,
which may be regarded as the centre of the bones of the
face. It has the effect of raising and lengthening the bones
of the nose, and of making the cheek-bones (or ossa male)
project farther.*

* The cavities in the frontal and maxillary bones communicate with

the nose, and assist in giving the sonorous, manly tones to the voice.
They are very small in women as they are in children.

ite.

SSS ee ae ss — ween
ee ners Series terresraseys7— a aa es

ai

ee

aR es cana ec AAS ar NP I

CHANCES FROM INFANCY TO AGE.

The growth of the large teeth in the adult, contrasted
with the child, adds to the depth, as well as length, of both
the upper and lower jaw-bones, and the whole face becomes
consequently longer. Another necessary effect is, that the
angle of the lower jaw recedes more towards the ear, and
acquires more distinctness. ‘Thus it is, that by the growth
of the teeth and of those processes of the bones which sup-
port and fix them (the alveolar processes), and by the

CHANGES FROM INFANCY TO AGE. 49

lengthening and receding of the angle of the jaw, a manly
squareness of the chin and lower part of the face takes
the place of the fulness and roundness of childhood.

This view of the skull at different periods of life sug-
gests another observation, relating to the characters of age.
When the teeth fall out in old age, the sockets which
grow up along with them waste away. Accordingly,
while the depth of the lower jaw-bone, from the hinge to
the angle, is undiminished, and its length towards the chin
is the same, there remains nothing at the part where the
teeth were implanted but the narrow base of the jaw.
The effect on the countenance is perceived in this sketch.
The jaws are allowed to approach nearer to each other
at the fore-part; the angle of the lower jaw comes of
course more forward, and resembles that of the child, were
it not that the chin projects: the chin and the nose
approximate, the lips fall in, the mouth is too small for the
tongue, and the speech is inarticulate. |

Before leaving this subject, we may point out a defect
in the sculptures of Fiammingo, who has been justly cele-
brated for his designs of boys. In his heads of children,
it is obvious that he intended to present us with an ideal
form, instead of a strict copy from nature. But it will be
remarked, that the eyes are too deeply set in his figures.
He has made the prominences over the orbits (the supra-
orbitary ridges), which are peculiar to a more advanced
age, distinct features in the child, and has thus produced
an unnatural appearance. The only character of the boy
which he has kept true to nature is the largeness of the
head compared with the face, the fulness of the cheeks, and
the falling in of the mouth and chin. In exaggerating the
natural peculiarities, the artist has strictly imitated the
antique. But it may remain a question, how far the prin-

50 OF THE SKULL, AS PROTECTING THE BRAIN.

ciple which is so happy in its effect of heightening the
beauty of the adult countenance, is necessary or allowable
in designing the forms of childhood ?

OF THE SKULL, AS PROTECTING THE BRAIN.

In touching even slightly on this subject we must
attend to certain principles. It is to be understood, that a
shock or vibration passing through the brain proves more
destructive than a wound penetrating its substance. A
skull stronger, thicker, and more solid than that which
we possess would not have given greater security: it
would have vibrated to a greater degree, and the con-
cussion arising even from trifling blows on the head,
would have effectually benumbed the faculties.

A child bears knocks which would be fatal in old age.
This is owing to the skull being thin, uniform in texture,
and elastic, in childhood; and to the brain being of a
corresponding structure. ‘The brain is at this age soft to
a degree that would be unnatural in mature years. This
resiliency of the skull, and yielding quality of the brain,
explain how the child is uninjured by blows, which would
be attended with fatal concussion in after-life. But there
is also a provision in adults for moderating the effects
of such accidents. In proportion as the brain acquires
firmness during growth, a gradual change takes place in
the structure of the bones of the head; the protecting
cranium is not simply strengthened; it is not merely
thickened; the flat bones which surround the brain are
split into layers, an external and an internal one. These
layers have each a different density, and a softer substance

OF THE SKULL, AS PROTECTING THE BRAIN. 51

than either is interposed between them; the effect of
which is, to interrupt that vibration which would other-
wise ring around the skull, and reach every molecule of
the brain.

I have elsewhere* shewn that, in brutes, as in man,
the processes and joinings of the skull are formed in re-
lation to the forces to which the head is to be exposed ;
and that they vary according to the habits or mode of
existence of the animal. The tearing fangs of the car-
nivorous animal, and the still more powerful teeth of the

hyena, adapted for breaking the hardest bones, are 1m-
planted in sockets of corresponding strength. The horns
of the bull, the antlers of the stag, are rooted in bones not
only capable of supporting their weight, but of receiving
the shocks to which such instruments expose the brain ;
and the firmness of the sutures in the crania of these
animals demonstrates the precision with which every thing

is set in just proportion.

A remark is here suggested by these considerations.
The provisions which we have been noticing in the human
head are not designed to give absolute security against
violence, but to balance duly the chances of life; leaving
us still under the conviction that pain and death follow
injury; so that our experience of bodily suffering, and
fear of incurring it, whilst they protect the life, lay the
foundation of important moral qualities in our nature.

Let us now direct our attention especially to the forms
of the skull. The back of the head is more exposed than
the forehead: we defend the front with our arms and
hands: not so the back, as in falling backwards. There

#* Paley’s “Natural Theology,” with illustrative notes by Henry
Lord Brougham and Sir Charles Bell.

52 OF THE SKULL, AS PROTECTING THE BRAIN.

is, accordingly, a very marked distinction in the strength
of the occipital bone and that of the frontal bone. The
prominence felt at the back part of the head is the
centre of certain groinings, or arched ridges, which
strengthen the bone within. We say groinings, for there
is nothing more resembling the strong arches, or groin-
ings, of an under-ground story of a building than these
projections on the interior of the occiput. In front, the
skull forms, on the whole, a lighter and more delicate
shell than behind; yet it is not less adapted to protect the
brain. The projecting parts of the forehead, which the
anatomist calls the eminentie Jrontales, are, undoubt-
edly, most exposed; but they are, at the same time, the
strongest points of the bone, for here the outer and inner
surfaces are not parallel; there is an accumulation of
bony substance in the two tables, to give them increased
thickness. It has already been seen that the prominences
over the eyebrows, characteristic of the mature or manly
forehead, have no relation to the form of the brain at this
part; they are merely the anterior walls of the frontal
sinuses, — cavities which, it has been stated, belong prin-
cipally to the organ of voice; yet they, and the ridges
which project towards the temples, are a safeguard to the
brain. Those latter-raised arches, called the temporal
ridges of the frontal bone, consist of dense and hard bone,
as obviously designed for adding strength, as is an edging
of brass, in carpentry, or a piece of steel let into a horse-
shoe. Imagine a man falling sidewise, and pitching on
the shoulder and side of the head,—he strikes precisely on
that point which is the most convex, the most dense, the
thickest, and best protected.

Altogether, independently of phrenology, it has of old
time been acknowledged, that fulness of the forehead,

CHARACTERISTIC FORMS OF THE LOWER ANIMALS. 53

combined with those forms which have been noticed, is an
indication of intellectual capacity ; and, as we have shewn,
of human character and beauty. All physiologists have
agreed in this view; whilst they are equally confident in
affirming that anatomy affords no foundation for mapping
the cranium into minute subdivisions or regions. As
nature, by covering the head, has intimated her intention
that we shall not there scan our neighbours’ capacities,
she has given us the universal language of expression.
Man is gregarious; he locks for sympathy: it is not good
for him to be alone; he solicits an unity of sentiment; and
the language which expresses it is in the face.

THE CHARACTERISTIC FORMS OF THE LOWER ANIMALS.

Norwirustanpine the high authorities in favour of the
facial line, we have ventured to say that it is not adapted
to give a measure of the capacity or area of the head in
contrast with the face, in brutes; because the peculiarities
of face in them depend on their instincts and propensities.
These are for the most part indicated by the greater de-
velopement of some one or more of the organs common to
them all, and the subserviency of others, not by the mass
of the brain. The head of the horse presents us with an
example ; it is an herbivorous or graminivorous animal, and
hence the peculiarities of its teeth. Now, it is in accord-
ance with the teeth that the whole character of its form is
derived. ‘The incisor teeth or nippers project, that the
head may reach the ground for feeding; and they have a
peculiar structure, that they may be preserved sharp. The
lips also conform to this object; they are not only suited
to cover the teeth, but to project and gather the food.

54 CHARACTERISTIC FORMS OF THE LOWER ANIMALS,

Again, the grinders are large, strong, deeply socketed, and
adapted to bear the trituration of the food for a term of
years corresponding to the natural life of the animal.
While the mouth is small, the head is long; and the
muscles which operate on the lower jaw, to close it, and
to give it the lateral motions necessary for grinding, are
proportionably large; therefore the depth of the head
behind, and the length and narrowness forwards, are the
principal characteristics of the horse.*

Another peculiarity of the horse’s head is seen in the
construction of his nostril. He does not breathe through
the mouth, but only through the nose. Here is an interest-
ing relation of parts, which, though remote in place, are
united in function. The nostril is indicative of the state
of the lungs: and a large dilateable nostril has descended
from the Arabian breed, and marks the capacity of
‘‘ wind.”

It is agreeable to see the young kid in the first hours

of existence, impelled by its instincts to mount the cliffs and
summits of the hills; or to behold the goat perched high
on the scarped rock, his beard tossed by the wind, and

* Cuvier has been at the pains of measuring the facial line in a great
variety of animals, beginning with the orang-outang and ending with the
horse. Let us take the pug-dog, in which the angle is fixed at 35°, and
compare it with the horse at 23°; who will not perceive that the
difference of the facial angles depends on the extension of the jaws of the
horse, necessarily arising from the form and number of the teeth, or in
other words, from his mode of feeding ?

Veterinary surgeons and naturalists have found it difficult to assign a
use for certain cavities at the back part of the horse’s head called the
Eustachian cells. To me they do not appear to be subservient either to
neighing or to the organ of hearing, as supposed; but they are placed in this
situation, and filled with air, to occupy the large space intervening between
the sides of the jaws, without materially increasing the weight. All jockeys
know the defect in a horse of a heavy head and long neck.

CHARACTERISTIC FORMS OF THE LOWER ANIMALS. Ge

browsing fearlessly. ‘These animals, the sheep, and horned

cattle generally, congregate, and make a circle to oppose
an enemy; and present for their defence a combined
front. ‘Their eyes are placed differently from those of the
horse ; and the nostril wants the expansion necessary for
maintaining a continued flight. The most curious adapta-
tion of the form of an herbivorous animal to its mode of
feeding is seen in the giraffe. The whole frame of the
creature is formed with the view of enabling it to reach
its food, which is not the herbage, but the leaves of trees.
The skull is small, and so light, even in comparison with
that of the horse, that it is like a thing of paper; and the
tongue and the lips protrude, to catch the branches over
head. ‘The large prominent eyes, and the limbs formed
for flight, betoken the timidity of the creature.

If we compare a carnivorous animal, as the lion, with a
horned animal, as the bull, it will be readily perceived
that it is from the teeth or the horns that the whole
character of the head results. The peculiarity of the
skull of the lion, or the tiger, consists chiefly in the breadth
of the face, caused by the large zygomatic processes, which
are formed of great size to give room to the strong muscles
that close the jaw: and it is visible also in the shortness of
the muzzle, and the depth of the face in front, where the
canine teeth are situated; for these must be deeply sock-
eted in the jaws to sustain the strength of the fangs, and
the powerful efforts of the animal. The grinding teeth
are small, and formed so as to cut like scissors; for there
is here no lateral play of the jaws, as in grinding; the
canine teeth overlapping and preventing that motion.
The muscles which close the jaws are of tremendous
power, commensurate with the length and strength of
those fangs, which are for holding or tearing the prey.

G

56 CHARACTERISTIC FORMS OF THE LOWER ANIMALS.

See, again, the head of the boar, how all the parts
hang, as it were, together, to produce its characteristic
form: the snout and the great tusks are for grubbing up
roots; yet, from his strength, he is a formidable animal,
for he will turn and rend. ‘This very term implies a great
deal; he does not tear with his teeth, he does not butt,
as with horns; but he runs straight forward, and with
his projecting lateral tusk ploughs up the flesh. The
whole strength of his body and neck is concentrated to the
use of these formidable instruments. Look to the antique
boar of the Florentine Gallery. The head rises high and
projects behind, to give strong attachment to the powerful
muscles constituting his very peculiarly shaped neck, which
is large, thick, inflexible, and suited, when he rushes for-
wards, to convey the impulse to the head, and finally to
the tusks.*

It ought to be a pleasing study to the artist to found
his designs on an accurate knowledge of the structure and
functions of animals. This pursuit unites his art with the
liberal sciences of the naturalist and the comparative ana-
tomist. And if he be a lover of the antique, he must
have observed that, in the better ages of the arts, the
sculptors were remarkable for giving a true and natural
character in their representations of brutes. The know-
ledge of animal form is the only guide to the right con-
ception of the perfection and beauty of the antique.

* Bridgewater Treatise on the Human Hand, 4th edition, p. 400.

57

FURTHER ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PRINCIPLE, THAT BEAUTY
IN THE HUMAN FORM HAS RELATION TO THE CHARAC-
TERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN.

Wuart, then, gives nobleness and grace to the human
figure, and how is deformity to be avoided? In the
statues of antiquity we see that the artists had a perfect
knowledge of the frame, and could represent it in all its
natural beauty. But in many of these remains there is
something beyond an exact copy of nature, — something
which, as we have seen, has been called divine. Now the
difficulty of explaining why such deviations from real
nature should inspire us with admiration, has forced in-
quirers into vague surmises and comparisons. For ex-
ample, they have applied the principles of harmony in
music to the beauty of the human figure.

When the animal frame is surveyed as a whole, or as
composed of parts more or less common to all living
creatures, which is taking the philosophical view of the
subject, an uniform plan is seen to pervade the animal
kingdom. Not only may the skeleton be traced from a
shell up to the complex mechanism in man,* but every
organ or individual part, when viewed comparatively, will
be found to undergo a similar developement; from the
simple structure of those creatures which enjoy the lowest
kind of sensibility, to that which exists in the human
frame. If, according to this view, we examine the head,
and follow the course of developement of the brain, as the
part which occupies the cranium, and then that of the
organs of the senses, which together constitute the face,

* See the author's “Bridgewater Treatise on the Human Hand,”
which may be taken as an introduction to the present subject.

58 CHARACTERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN.

and include the apparatus of speech, we shall distinguish
what is peculiar to man. We shall learn what forms of
parts bear relation to those endowments by which he
holds his acknowledged superiority: and the conclusion
may be arrived at, that by magnifying, in works of art,
what is peculiarly characteristic of man, we may ennoble
his countenance, and, without being strictly natural, attain
what is better.

No faculties of the mind have been bestowed without
the field for their exercise; men’s capacities, their
thoughts, and their affections, have their counterparts, or
objects, to excite or to gratify them. ‘There are beings
superior to ourselves, and in a condition of existence
different from ourselves, and the mind delights in con-
templating them. Even in our enjoyment of beautiful
objects, our thoughts rise beyond them. We walk into
the country, in the woods and wilds, in love with nature
and delighting in solitude. But if we examine our
minds, we shall find that we people these solitudes; how-
ever we may believe that it is nature and inanimate
creation which please us, all is referable to, and con-
centres in, some reflexion of the voice and features of
human kindred.

In admiring the finer works of antiquity, it is admitted

that the forms which we regard as models of perfection

are unlike what has existed in nature: that no living
head ever had the facial line of the Jupiter, the Apollo,
the Mercury, or the Venus. Having found reasons to
reject the theory of Camper, the question returns, How
is that beautiful which is not natural ?

Let us take the head of Mercury, which is simply
beautiful, and the head of a satyr, both antique; and
contemplate them in succession. In the Mercury, there

CHARACTERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN. 59

is a combination of forms and general proportions of

the head and face, never seen in all the varieties of
hole and each particular feature

living man; yet is the w
perfectly beautiful. In turning to the satyr, we find
every proportion reversed: the forehead narrow and de-
pressed; the eyes near, small, and a little oblique; the
nose flattened to the upper lip; the mouth protuberant ;
the ears large, tipped, and sharp ; and the expression
of the whole goatish and savage; and what there is of
human expression is lively and humorous, but common
and base. Now the principle which has been followed
in giving beauty to the head of Mercury is obvious
here. Whatever is peculiar to the human countenance,
as distinguishing it from the brute, is enhanced. Not only
is the forehead expanded and projecting, and the facial Ime
more perpendicular, but every feature is modelled on the
same principle: the ear is small and round; the nostril is
eminently human, and unlike that of the beast ; the mouth,
the teeth, and lips, are not such as belong to the brute,
nor are they the mere instruments of mastication, but of
speech and human expression. So of every part, take
them individually, or as a whole; whatever would lead to
the resemblance of the brute is omitted or diminished.
The principle is further extended. It is not in the
proportions between the face and the brain-case alone that
the contrast is perceived, but in the quality or function of
each organ. We have adverted to the theory of Cuvier,
that as hunger and the animal passions govern brutes, and
as the parts which chiefly minister to them in the face,
are the organs of smell and of taste, the unusual de-
velopement of the nose and the mouth degrades or bruti-

fies the human countenance. But we remarked, in regard

to this, that the nose is not elevated in man, to mcrease

60 CHARACTERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN.

the organ of smelling: it belongs to the voice, to human
voice and speech. And so must we consider the different
functions of the mouth. In brutes, it is for prehension,
tearing, and mastication; in man, its more distinguish-
able office is speech and expression. Model the lips for
this, for eloquence and the expression of the softer passions,
and it becomes beautiful; extend the teeth, and make
the lips a mere covering for them, and it is brutal, at
variance with human physiognomy and detracting from
whatever is agreeable in the face.

Our principle will apply with equal force to the motions
of the face as to the permanent form. Human sentiments
prevailing in the expression of a face, will always make it
agreeable or lovely. Expression is even of more conse-
quence than shape: it will light up features otherwise
heavy; it will make us forget all but the quality of the
mind. As the natural tones of the voice are understood
and felt by all, so it is with the movements of the counte-
nance: on these we are continually intent, and the mind
ever insensibly exercised.

Whether the views which I have here advocated were
ever announced by the ancients I know not. But I think
it is abundantly evident that their artists acted upon them.
They went beyond mere imitation. ‘They advanced to a
higher study, that of combining excellencies; selecting
what was indicative of the higher and purer qualities,
impassioned thought, and this they exaggerated. ‘Their
divinities were of human mould; but still, as not visibly
present, they were creations of their imagination.*

* In high art, it appears to have been the rule of the sculptor to
divest the form of expression. In the Apollo, there is such a stillness of
features, that every one follows his fancy, and thinks he sees in the statue
what is really in his own mind. In the Venus, the form is exquisite and

CHARACTERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN. 61

The explanation which I offer differs from what is
commonly given by writers on art. ‘They call the “ideal
head” that which does not represent individual beauty,
but collective beauties, a selection and adaptation of beauti-
ful parts taken from a variety of individuals, and combined
in one representation.* I place the superiority of the
antique on higher ground, on the more extended study of

nature, of brutes as well as of man.

That the true animal character was fully understood. by
the ancient artists there is sufficient proof. Is there any
thing finer than the wolf of the Capitol, or the antique
boar, or the dogs in the entrance of the Florentine Gallery,
or the horses of the Elgin marbles? It was this study
of pure nature that enabled them to undertake such
compositions of surprising beauty, as we see in their

the face perfect, but there is no expression there: it has no human soft-
ness, nothing to love. Mrs. saw a young gentleman, she thinks an
American, kissing the tips of his fingers to the statue, as he left the -
Tribune (the apartment dedicated to the goddess), but for this the
statue gives no license; it would not have been unbecoming had he so
saluted the Melpomene, for there we see the loveliness which lurks in
expression. The authoress of an agreeable work on Rome is disturbed
because “she has seen women, real living women, almost as beautiful as
the Venus, and far more interesting.” We should find more of her way
of thinking, if all would confess their first impressions. This, however,
cannot detract from the perfection of a statue, which has been admired
in all times, as now. It only points to the purity of the design, the high
aim of the artist, and his successful execution. Had the Helen of
Zeuxis been preserved, I can imagine that it would have been of a more
feminine and seducing beauty than the Venus. But we must bear in
mind that which I have taken notice of in the text, that all individuality
was studiously avoided by the ancient sculptors, in the representation of
divinity; they maintained the beauty of form and proportion, but
without expression, which, in their system, belonged exclusively to
humanity.

* Nous dirons done, que la combinaison des parties peut former un
tout, est ce qu’on appelle l’idéal.”—WINCKELMAN.

|
i
| |
4 At;
ee |
EEE |
eid
» :
BY -et |
:
He if
nt ip
iF |
ik
aid)
) i
4
(
1 li
ql \
H
i F
Hl ie
a
} +
s q
id
oe |

= SSO
PEE SPR

BS pac yaaa 77, gy BO ee ee NE as

62 CHARACTERISTIC ORGANS OF MAN.

Fauns, Satyrs, Centaurs, and masks, where the peculiarities
of brutes are engrafted on the human form. And it may
be remarked that they did not merely give to their sylvan
deities hair and cloven feet; they bestowed on them a
certain consistency of character very difficult of execution,
but necessary to reconcile the eye to the absurdity; a
goatish expression of countenance, or a merry festive air, all
in conformity with the hair and the hoofs, their embrowned
skin, and the savage wildness of their life.*

What, then, was more natural or obvious, in studying
the effect of these forms and characters when transferred
to the human countenance, than that the artist should per-
ceive that the proportions which distinguish them should
be avoided, or even reversed, in representing the dignified
and characteristic form of man.

Winckelman would make it appear that the artists of
Greece studied the forms of the lower animals for a
different purpose:—to join the character of the brute
with that of man, in order to embellish him, and to bestow
on him new and preternatural properties. And he refers
to the heads of Jupiter and of Hercules as instances. “ In
the former,” he says, “‘we may discover the great eyes,
and imposing front, and the mane of the lion; and in the
latter, the head and neck of the bull.”

I must entertain doubts of this theory, and of the effect

* The difficulty of giving these combinations of the human and brute
character, is shewn in the attempts of modern artists to imitate the
ancients in their representations of Fauns and sylvan boys. They do not
seem to know how to knit their joints, and their faces are too sober and

wise.
“ faber imus et ungues

Exprimet, et molles imitabitur ere capillos,
Infelix operis summa, quia ponere totum
Nesciet.”

THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY. 63

of the excessive exaggeration ;—in the head of Jupiter I
have not felt its influence. But, if the theory be true, it
goes to establish the fact, that the artists studied the form
of brutes in comparison with that of man; and [I hold it
to be an inevitable consequence of such a comparison, that
they should discover that the perfection of the human
form was to be attained, by avoiding what was character-
istic of the inferior animals, and increasing the proportions
of those features which belong to man.

I shall not deny ingenuity to the theory of Hogarth, or
usefulness to that proposed by Sir Joshua Reynolds. But
there is danger to the modern artist, if he is led to conceive
that he can bestow beauty by following some fancied curve
or gradation of outline. Sir Joshua held that beauty is the
medium, or centre, of the various forms of individuals :
that every species of animal has a fixed and determinate
form, towards which nature is continually inclining, like
lines terminating in a centre, or pendulums vibrating in
different directions over a single point: as all these lines
cut the centre, while only one passes through any other
point, so he conceived that perfect beauty is oftener pro-
duced than any one kind of deformity. This imgenious
idea is well suited to the portrait-painter, who will not be
a favourite unless he knows how to soften the features and
preserve the likeness. But there is this fatal objection to
it; that, as in the antique, the artists deviated from
nature, the pendulum would never reach the centre.

It is happy for philosophy, science, history, poetry, and
eloquence, that the Greeks were a superior people, and
happy for our subject that they were an eminently beau-
tiful people. The artists of Greece certainly did not
follow a vague line of beauty. They rather imitated some

H

64: THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY.

acknowledged beautiful form of age or sex. They even
combined the beauty of both sexes, as in the young Bacchus,
or more decidedly in the Hermaphrodite.

With them, the highest effort of art was to represent
man deified; as it were, purified from the grosser cha-
racters of nature. ‘This they did, as we have already seen,
by exaggerating whatever is proper to the human form:
by increasing what gives dignity, and bestowing features,
capable and prone to the expression of the finer emotions ;
representing them, either as still and imperturbed, or as
indicating a superiority to the things of this lower world.

In painting, the representation of the Deity is always a
distressing failure. If to represent Him who “ became
man,” and ‘dwelt among us,” be the highest effort of art,
how is the Creator to be represented? Michael Angelo
painted the Deity boldly, and with the expression of the
indignant wrath of man. Raphael represents the Creator
plunging into chaos* and separating the elements. But on
viewing these paintings, we are brought to feel the insuf-
ficiency of the art, and to think of the artist to the exclusion
of all sublime contemplations which the subject should —
inspire. Yet it is foolish to call such attempts impiety,
since no other idea is presented than that which is in-
culcated from our infancy. Our expressions in words are
at variance with our just conception of Divine Intelligence,
and our tongue as imperfect as the pencil of the painter.
The one solitary expression in the Scriptures descriptive
of the person of God, is studiously obscure, and the
accompaniments of His presence, not the countenance of
the Almighty, are described.

* In the Gallery of Raphael, in the Vatican.

THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY. 65

The sentiments of Plato, Cicero, and Seneca, are
brought to bear on this subject of beauty and ideal per-
fection. Yet it is fortunate that we have the works of
the ancient sculptors before us, to preserve us from the
influence of vague theories. Cicero has given us his con-
ception of a perfect orator. ‘And such an ideal person,”
he says, “may be the object of imitation; but those who
imitate can only approach the model according to the
talents which nature has given them. No man can possess
all the qualities, or attain to the whole perfection of the
model: he must in some one respect be deficient. His
knowledge and capacity of research, his acquaintance with
human character, his insinuating or commanding language,
or his eloquent appeal to the heart, his countenance and
expression, his voice, manner, gesture, cannot be all
equally balanced so as to constitute the perfect orator.”
And he illustrates his position by the example of Phidias
who, when he made the statue of Jupiter and Minerva,
took no individual for his model, but had an idea of
perfection in his own mind.*

Here I conceive is the source and the authority for all
which has been written on this view of the subject. ‘The

* In the following quotation, Brutus has asked Cicero what con-
stitutes excellence in oratory. He answers, that no man has been

that there is an ideal perfection which we should attempt to

perfect ;
lish all is impossible ; just

attain, nor resign the effort because to accomp
as there is nothing beautiful which may not in imagination be surpassed :—

« Sed ego sic statuo, nihil esse in ullo genere tam pulchrum, quo non
pulchrius id sit, unde illud, ut ex ore aliquo, quasi imago, exprimatur,
quod neque oculis, neque auribus, neque ullo sensu percipi potest; cogi-
tatione tantum et mente complectimur. Itaque et Phidie simulacris,
quibus nihil in illo genere perfectius videmus, et his picturis, quas
nominavi, cogitare tamen possumus pulchriora. Nec vero ille artifex,

66 THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY;

great artist had formed a conception of beauty: the
question perpetually returns, By what studies, by what
theory, had he attained this? The perplexity appears to
me to proceed from a distinction being made between the
pleasures of the mind, and those addressed to the senses.
Plautus says that the poet seeks what nowhere exists,
and yet finds it. His genius supplies it, it is in his
mind.

The novelist who has genius to catch and to represent

the feelings of men, and their motives to action, may give

a truer picture of his period than the historian, even
although he describes what never existed. That is to
say, the incidents, the passions, the prejudices, which he
describes, may never have been combined as he combines
them; but they are true to nature, and to the state of
society in which he lives, and are, therefore, a record of
the time. But this is not the rationale of the ideal in
painting.

Or we may illustrate this in another manner. When
Zeuxis was employed on his Helen, five of the most
beautiful women were before him, from whom he com-
posed his perfect beauty. But it was not the object of
the artist here to produce ideal beauty, or to give that
repose of sentiment which is the effect of contemplating the
Medicean Venus; his aim was to represent a beautiful

cum faceret Jovis formam, aut Minerve, contemplabatur aliquem, e quo
similitudinem duceret: sed ipsius in mente insidebat species pulchri-
tudinis eximia queedam, quam intuens, in eaque defixus, ad illius similitu-
dinem artem et manum dirigebat. Ut igitur in formis et figuris est
aliquid perfectum et excellens, cujus ad cogitatam speciem imitando
referuntur ea que sub oculis ipsa cadunt: sic perfecte eloquentiz
speciem animo videmus, effigiem auribus querimus.”—C1cERo de Oratore,
cap. 2.

THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY. 67

and seductive woman, whose charms were to lead men to
extravagance. And why have not painters with the same
means attained to the same perfection? It has been an-
swered, Because they have not had the same genius. On
which M. Quatremere De Quincy observes, “ What, then,
is a model, if genius be still necessary in order to imitate
it? Who shall tell whether it is the model that causes
genius to see the image of beauty; or, genius that sees its
own idea in the model.” *

There has been another theory advanced, that, in the
antique statue there is presented to us the grandeur of
form and the proportions of man, as he originally pro-
ceeded from the Creator: such as he was designed to
be before he was subjected to labour, poverty, and
sickness.

But in the early times of all people, their gods have
been represented by the trunks of trees, or pillars rudely
carved; and, when improved, it has been by imitating
the human form with simplicity. At first, the head was
carved as on a_ pedestal ; then the neck, breast, and
shoulders, and the indication of sex; then the arms and
the extremities were imperfectly blocked out, until, at
length, and after ages had passed, the members were dis-
played free, and the figure perfected m manly beauty.

* The same author thus expresses himself: “In this we have the
enigma of Plautus solved; in every art, whatever comes within the scope
of the understanding, of sentiment, and of genius, does not really exist
any where; has neither substance nor place, and is subjected to no one
of the senses, while he who finds it is unable to point out where he has
seen the model of it.”

This is language which puffs up the young artist to inordinate con-
ceit; and, instead of studying, sets him a dreaming of something for

which he is to be beholden to his innate genius.

PSS eee RRR a =

iomaaeed

ct IO a pete SS RED SI CA
aie ~

68 THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY.

I shall once more endeavour to analyse that process
of thought by which, out of the contemplation of nature,
ideal perfection is derived. The idea of the divine form
in the mind of any man, whatever may be his genius, has

been acquired, and is of human origin; and the attempts
of all painters and sculptors to embody the idea in their
works, evince that such is the case. That a man of
genius has an idea of perfection cannot be the result of
pure imagination. Whatever conceptions he may enter-

tain must have been acquired; and the question returns,
How? Let us suppose a painter to have before him the
three Graces; their perfections are not the same: for to
have full influence on the heart, we know that, however
beautiful, each must be individual; that the form, the
attitude, and the expression must be varied, or the interest
and grace are injured. The attempt of the painter to
combine what is beautiful in each, into one more perfect,
would, in my opinion, fail; nature would be lost, and
the whole prove inconsistent. At all events, the com-
bination of individual human beauty, however made, and
with whatever exercise of genius contrived, would not pro-
duce what is aimed at,— ideal beauty, as exhibited in the
remains of antiquity; a form which we acknowledge to be
beautiful, but which has had no existence in life or in
models.

With the view of attaining beauty, the artist is not to
slight nature or to avoid it, but to study it deeply, as the
only source of improvement. He must not only contem-
plate those beauties which we may suppose to stand before
him, but consider where they differ from others less ad-
mirable. How beautiful that smile! How eloquent those

THEORIES OF IDEAL BEAUTY. 69

lips! Let him ask himself in what this consists. Smiling
and speech are characteristic of man, and are bestowed
to express the affections of the heart, and communicate
thought. Give to the mouth the capacity for these.
Observe the forehead, and the defined eyebrow : — What
is there in nature superior? Let him mark them, and
then raise and throw forward the forehead, a feature
especially human, and elevating to the countenance. Now
he sees that depth is given to the eye; that the shadows
fall with bold relief, the eyebrow acquires more freedom,
stands in a finer arch, and is more expressive of agree-
able emotions. And thus he passes from point to point ;
from one feature to another, — the nose, the ear: exag-
gerating a little the outline of whatever indicates the
higher and purer qualities, and avoiding what is low, or
whatever is associated with the baser human passions or
with the form of the brutes; and by insensible gradations,
and long contemplation of what is highest and best, he
acquires, and from nature, that idea which is, in his mind,
the perfection of form.

Supposing that a painter so tutored is set with his
fellows to copy a model; by his knowledge of what
constitutes humanity in its most perfect condition, and
of what is indicative of human sentiment, he is enabled to
elevate his design; and then it is acknowledged that,
whilst he has preserved the likeness, he has refined
it, and has introduced something of the purity of the
antique.

Although I have taken the form of the head and the
features for illustration, the principle is applicable to the
whole figure. In comparing the finer forms of antique
statues with those of the Athlete, Lapithe, and Fauns,

eit IO ga. HIST IEEE SS RST EIS OI 2

-_ Ss

7O THEORJES OF IDEAL BEAUTY.

down to the brutes, we see that the grace, the repose, and
the nobler attitudes of the human body, are preserved in
the former, to the exclusion of whatever belongs to indi-
vidual character, or partakes by association of what is mean
in condition.

The Satyr and Faun are as mules and hybrids; the
man and the brute are joined; sometimes with the horns
and the hoofs, sometimes with nothing more distinctive
than the tail; and the conception 1s fulfilled by the gross-
ness of form, the muscular developement, and the propor-
tions indicative of activity. But there is neither freedom
nor grace of movement in the position of the body or
limbs, nor in their proportions or contour. In short, we

i Galina leasing as | BANAL IEE Stn TERR TRS OT

have the Apollo and Marsyas exhibiting a perfect con-
trast, and shewing that which is characteristic in the one
reversed in the other.

fe

NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN THE FORM OF THE HEAD.

Sir David Wilkie, whose loss we have had so lately to
deplore, was one of my earliest pupils, having attended
a course of my lectures on anatomy, as connected with
design. On returning from the Continent im August
1840, I found him preparing for a journey ; and he made
me guess whither he was going. To Rome?—no. To
Greece ?—-no. Surely not to court fortune in India?—no.
He was setting off to the Holy Land, to study there an
Eastern people. In this, he displayed that energy which
ever accompanies genius. How much of character, in
feature and costume, would he not have thrown into his
future pictures! Here we have a lesson from one entitled
to sway our opinion on his art, of the importance of a
knowledge of national forms to the historical painter. It
is for this reason that I introduce a slight account of
the varieties of the human head, depending on national
peculiarities. It may assist the artist im the study of
such natives of foreign countries as he may chance to
meet with.

Even in the most admired productions of art, I find
little to which I can refer for elucidating this subject.
Sculptors and painters have been too commonly content to
characterise an inhabitant of the East by a tuft of hair on
his crown; or an African, by a swarthy face. There is a
late publication that illustrates the question of national
peculiarities in a very interesting way,—a folio volume
which contains accurate portraits of the skulls of all the
American races, from the old inhabitants of Mexico and
Peru to those of the farthest north.”

% « Crania Americana,” by Dr. Morton, Professor of Anatomy in

Pennsylvania College.
I

Fa
tee

cecum eee

a2 NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN

In considering the extraordinary collection of skulls in
this work, with the view of marking the relation between
the form of the head and superiority of mind, in men of
cultivated intellect, as contrasted with those leading a
savage life, it must be acknowledged that much is wanting.
Although there can be no objection to the mode adopted
by the writer of estimating the actual mass of brain; yet
his measurements ought to have been made in reference
to the dimensions of the whole body. The size of the
cranium, and consequently, the volume of the brain, must
be relative to the face; and the face can be taken only
as an imperfect index of the entire skeleton. If the
cavity of the skull is to be gauged,—if the quantity of
sand or of seeds, which different crania are capable of
containing, is to be measured, the comparison will not be
satisfactory, unless the measurement of each be contrasted
with that of the face and of the body; and be also examined
with respect to the proportions of the brain itself, or its
form.

Again, it is taken for granted, that we who exercise our
best faculties within the four walls of a house, must have a
developement of brain beyond what the free-dweller in the
plains or forests of, what is termed, a new country can
possess. I believe, on the contrary, that man, in his state of
nature, has imposed upon him the necessity of bringing into
operation quite as many faculties of mind as the man at his

desk ; and that, from the brain being exercised in every

use to which the external senses are put, its volume is not
inferior to that of the individual in civilised life. We must
take alone with us this consideration, that the exercise
of our external senses infers an accompanying activity of
the brain: that of the nervous apparatus appropriated to
the senses, it is the exterior part alone that is given to the

THE FORM OF THE HEAD. 73

eye, ear, nose, tongue: the internal part, forming the
sensorium, is in the brain. Remembering this, and that
the powers exercised by the savage are not instincts, as in
the brutes, but operations of the mind calling the brain
into action, I am unwilling to grant that any measurable
deficiency in its mass, as a whole, is likely to be perceived.
Were it really so, we should find the gamekeeper inferior
to his master, in a greater degree than my experience
warrants.

Every one must have observed among those with whom
he lives, that there is as much variety in feature, stature,
colour, hair, beard, &c. as there is in expression of counte-
nance: and a very little philosophy will indicate the
necessity of such varieties, for the constitution of society.
But in regard to national peculiarities, although the dis-
tinctions between individuals of a particular country are,
doubtless, in many instances, as great as between the

people of one country compared with another; yet there
are certain forms of head, or casts of feature, or pecu-
liarities of hair, and complexion, which characterise

different nations.

We need not here enter into the question, how these
distinctions have been produced. It would require much
critical examination to decide whether national pecu-
liarities of form are owing to an original provision, by
which the structure changes, and acquires distinctive
characters under the influence of circumstances—such as
of the various climates to which the first families were
exposed, on their dispersion from one centre; or whether
there are truly distinct races which had a conformation
and constitution from the beginning, suited to the regions
for which they were destined, and to which they were

blindly driven.

imental lal

74: NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN

All testimony agrees in shewing that mankind was first
planted in Western Asia; there, in the valleys, perpetual
summer reigns ; there the vegetable productions best suited
to man’s nourishment are most abundant: there are the
animals, in a state of nature, which are led by their
instincts to yield themselves up to his use —the horse,
the ass, the cow, the sheep, the goat, the camel, the dog ;
and there the climate is so favourable to the human con-
stitution, that even now we look to these countries for
examples of perfection, both in feature and colour, of man
himself.

From this part of the globe, the varieties of man,
distinguished as to exterior form and complexion, may be
traced divergingly : to this point the sciences and arts may
be followed back; and the study of the derivation of
tongues, and of the grammatical construction of languages,
does not negative the conclusion, but rather indicates
that this part of the earth was the centre from which the
nations spread.

The grouping of mankind into races has occupied the
ingenuity of many naturalists and physiologists, from the
time of Buffon and Linneus to the present day; but we
rest principally on the authority of Blumenbach. In the
valleys of the Caucasus, between the Black Sea and the
Caspian, we may distinguish, in the Caucasian family, those
features which, according to the views just presented, we

should say were the nearest to perfection. The skull is

large and fully developed in front; the face is small, and
the features well proportioned; the forehead is elevated ;
the nose arched, or raised; the teeth perpendicular in their
sockets; the chin round, and the lips full of expression ;
the skin fair; the eyes dark; the eyebrows arched; the
eyelashes long; and the hair varied in colour. The Cir-

THE FORM OF THE HEAD. 75

cassians have long been noted for the beauty of the women,
and for the imposing stature, elegance, and activity of the
men; and the Georgians and other tribes are remarkable
for personal beauty.

From this centre, proceeding westward, we recognise
the Europeans. The original inhabitants of Thessaly
and Greece are designated as the Pelasgic branch: that
enterprising and migratory people, who at an early
period extended to Italy, and from whom descended the
Etruscans. The Hellenes, or Greeks, receiving letters
from the Phoenicians, surpassed all the nations of antiquity,
in philosophy, literature, and art. The Greek face is a
fine oval; the forehead full, and carried forward; the
eyes large; the nose straight; the lips and chin finely
formed: in short, the forms of the head and face have
been the type of the antique, and of all which we most
admire. The modern Greeks are still distinguished by
athletic proportions and fine features.

The Roman head differs from the Greek, in having
a more arched forehead, a nose more aquiline, and
features altogether of a more decided character; and
this is even apparent in the busts of that people, as ex-
hibited in the two splendid volumes of Visconti. The
remarks of Bishop Wiseman on this subject are important,
as his lectures were delivered in Rome, and to persons
who had only to step out of the college to ascertain their
accuracy. ‘Travellers have often stated that the counte-
nances of the population beyond the Tiber exactly re-
semble those of the Roman soldiers on the column of
Trajan; but Dr. Wiseman observes correctly, that any
one slightly acquainted with art, will soon be satisfied
that the model on these historical monuments is really

70 NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN

Grecian, and can give no aid in ascertaining the phy-
slognomy of the ancient inhabitants of Italy. He bids
us look to the busts, and reclining statues of the ancient
Romans carved on the sarcophagi, or to the series of

imperial busts in the Capitol, where we shall discover
the true type of the national figure, viz. a large flat head,
a low and wide forehead, a face broad and square, a
short and thick neck, and a stout and broad trunk -
proportions totally at variance with what are generally
considered to be those of the ancient Roman. Nor have
we to go far, if in Rome, to find their descendants ; they
are to be met with every day in the streets, principally
among the burgesses or middle class.*

The German race has been spread, from east to west,
over a great part of Europe, blending with the Celts. It
is separated into the Teutonic and Sclavonian families ;
their military enterprises form the history of the darker
ages, when they came down upon the Roman empire.

* “For my part, I looked for the type of the Roman soldier among
the Galleotti. There was a body of these condemned men, chained
together, who were marched every evening from their work of rebuilding
the great basilica of St. Paul’s, beyond the walls. This church, which
was burnt, stands some way out of Rome, and I walked beside and
behind these bands; and finer figures are not to be conceived; their
loose dress, and the gyves upon their legs, gave to their air and attitude
something formidable. They seemed fit for the offices of a tyrant, and
to subdue the world. I must ever remember one evening, when I saw
these men, with their mounted guards, passing under the Arch of Titus,
and the broad shadow of the Colosseum. Dr. Wiseman says, in regard
to the sculptures on that arch, that the profiles of the soldiers shew that
there was a rule, or model, adapted to the common men, and from which
the artist might not depart; while the figure of the emperor, seated in
his chariot, forms a strong contrast to them. Though his features are
now quite effaced, enough remains of the outline to shew the full heavy
face, and bulky head, of a true Roman.”— Notes from Journal.

*s

« SS A nga

THE FORM OF THE HEAD. 471

Other hordes mingled with the Tartars; and are recog-
nised in history, as the people who broke in upon the
Persian and the Roman empires in the east. The Celtic
Gaul of the Romans gave residence to a race, which is
now diminished to the remnant living m the mountainous
districts of the extreme west of Europe.

The Mongolian Tartars occupy great part of the north
of Asia and Europe. The eyelids of this people are
oblique, the nose is small and flat, broad towards the
forehead ; the cheek-bones are high, the chin short, and
the lips large and thick; the ears are flat and square;
the general form of the head round. The Mongol
Tartar tribes have become mixed with the neighbouring
nations, and exhibit a variety of physiognomy. Hordes
of this people invaded China, and settling in the north
of that great empire have blended with the original
Chinese.

To the north-west, they mingled with the polar races,
and have merged in the Kamschatkans and Tungusians ;
the Huns, whose incursions into more civilised Europe, are
recorded in history, were Mongol Tartars. The primitive
Turks were also of the same race; but, by overrunning
Circassia, Georgia, Greece, and Arabia, their physical cha-
racter has been changed, and they have become a hand-
some people. The open nostril and short nose, which
mark the Turkish countenance, still betray their original
extraction; their eyes are dark and animated, and the
whole face is expressive and intelligent.

The Chinese skull is oblong, the frontal bone nar-
row in proportion to the width of the bones of the face.
Accordingly the countenance is flat, and the cheeks ex-
panded; the eyelids are not freely open, and are drawn
obliquely up towards the temples; the eyebrows are black

78 NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN

and highly arched; the nose is small and flattened, with a
marked depression separating it from the forehead; the
hair is black, and the complexion sallow.

The Malay race is scattered through the Indian Islands,
Sumatra, Java, Borneo, Amboyna, Celebes, the Philippines,
Moluccas. The forehead, in the Malay, is prominent and
arched, but low; the orbits oblique and oblong; the nasal
bones broad and flattened; the cheek-bones high and ex-
panded; the jaws projecting. ‘The head is, altogether,
large; the mouth and the lips protrude; the nose is short,
depressed, and flattened towards the nostrils; the eyes are
small and oblique. ‘They are of a brown complexion, vary-
ing in the different tribes.

Some uncertainty prevails as to the race to which the
ancient Egyptians belonged. This has arisen from the
difficulty of reconciling the early and extensive knowledge
of that people, with the acknowledged deficiency of capacity
in the Negro. We might expect that the mummies and
drawings in their pyramids and tombs should have long
since decided the question; but the position of Egypt may
account for the obscurity. Being on the confines of two
great continents, the Egyptians became early a mixed
people. The skull is found to be well formed, and unlike
that of the Ethiopian. ‘The probability is, that the Negro
was then, as now, a subjugated race.*

The Greek applied the terms Ethiop and Indian to all
the dark people of the south. By Ethiopian, we now cor-
rectly understand the different races which inhabit the
interior of Africa; extending from the south of Mount

* Blumenbach thinks that he can discover among the mummies the
heads of the Ethiopian, the Indian, and the Besbers. Denon conceives
that the female mummies indicate that the women of ancient Egypt had
great beauty.

THE FORM OF THE HEAD. 79

Atlas and Abyssinia to the country of the Caffres and
Hottentots.

The general character of the Negro countenance is
familiar to us. Of the great antiquity of the race there
can be no doubt. When, indeed, the effigy of the Negro
is found depicted on the ancient walls of Egypt, and
vessels are dug up, the characters on which are read by
modern Chinese, we may well despair of obtaining any
thing like a satisfactory history of the spread of nations,
and the settlement of mankind in the different regions of
the globe. The depression of the forehead and compression
of the temples, which are distinctive of the Africans,
although there be splendid examples of fine form among
the nations of that continent, mark them as a degraded
race.*

Diverging still from the presumed central origin of
mankind, we find the Polynesian family in the islands of
the Pacific Ocean. The inhabitants of these isles are of

middle stature, athletic, with heavy limbs. Their faces
the nose is well formed,

are round or delicately oval ;
straight, or aquiline, sometimes spread out, but not having

the flatness of the Negro; the forehead is low, but not

* The great families of mankind are distinguished by colour as well
The Caucasian by white; the African by black ;
tending to yellow; the Malay by tawny; the
The colour of the hair,
The Caucasian,

as form and features.
the Mongolian by olive,
American by brown, or nearly copper hue.
and that of the iris, partake of the colour of the skin.
has red, brown, or light-coloured hair, and the eyes

with fair complexion,
In those of darker complexion,

of different shades of grey and blue.
the hair is black and the eyes dark. In the Mongol, the hair is thin,

stiff, and straight. In the European, soft, flexible, and flowing. In the
Negro, thick-set, strong, short, and curly. But in all races there spring

up occasional varieties.
K

AEF EES RE ae

S15 OTT TE RT :

an

80 NATIONAL PECULIARITIES IN

receding ; the eyes black, bright, and expressive ; the lips
full, and the teeth fine.*

In America, the same difficulties present themselves in
relation to the origin and propagation of races as in the
Old World. The most recent inquiries authorise the dis-
tinction of two families inhabiting America; first, a race
called ‘Toltecan, belonging originally to Mexico and Peru,
which, from the shapes of the skulls found in the graves,
and the accompanying relics, give evidence of greater
civilisation than belongs to the present natives; and secondly,
a people which extending over the greater portion of the
vast continent, embraces all the barbarous nations of the
New World, excepting the polar tribes, or Mongolian
Americans, which are presumed to be straggling parties
from Asia, such as the Esquimaux, Greenlanders, and
Fins.

In the native American, there is no trace of the frizzled
locks of the Polynesian or the woolly texture on the head
of the Negro. The hair is long, lank, and black; the
beard is deficient; the cheek-bones are large and promi-
nent; the lower jaw broad and ponderous, truncated in
front; the teeth vertical and very large; the nose is de-
cidedly arched, and the nasal cavities of great size. They
ought not to be called the copper-coloured race. The
colour is brown, or of a cinnamon tint. As in the
Old World, the colour varies, and the darkness. does
not always correspond to the climate or vicinity to the
equator.

* It is amusing to find voyagers making distinctions here between the
plebeian and the aristocratic classes. But so it is every where. Among the
Lybians and Moors, as in the countries of Asia and Europe, the comforts
and luxuries of life improve the physical condition of man.

THE FORM OF THE HEAD. 81

Of the imperfect sketch of the varieties of mankind
which I have here presented, every sentence might be the
text of a long essay. But in this, as in the whole volume,
I have attempted only to awaken attention, and to make
the reader an observer of what may pass before him; giving
him the elements on which his ingenuity or acumen is to
be employed in his intercourse with society.

ESSAY II.

ON THOSE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION IN THE HUMAN COUNTE-
NANCE WHICH CANNOT BE EXPLAINED ON THE IDEA OF A
DIRECT INFLUENCE OF THE MIND UPON THE FEATURES.

“The heart of a man changeth his countenance, whether for good
or evil.” — The Son of Sirach.

‘¢T do believe thee ;
I saw his heart in his face.”—_SHAKSPEARE.

In the human countenance, under the influence of
passion, there are characters expressed, and changes of
features produced, which it is impossible to explain on the
notion of a direct operation of the mind upon the features.
Ignorance of the source of these changes of the features, or
inattention to the cause which produces them, has thrown
an obscurity over the whole of this subject, which it is my
wish to remove.

If, in the examination of the sources of expression, it
should be found that the mind is dependent on the frame
of the body, the discovery ought not to be considered as
humiliating, or as affecting the belief of a separate ex-

istence of that part of our nature on which the changes

wrought in the body are ultimately impressed. Since
we are dwellers in a material world it is necessary that

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. - 83

the spirit should be connected with it by an organised
body, without which it could neither feel nor re-act, nor
manifest itself in any way. It is a fundamental law of our
nature that the mind shall have its powers developed
through the influence of the body; that the organs of the
body shall be the links in the chain of relation between it
and the material world, through which the immaterial
principle within shall be affected.

As the Creator has established this connexion between
the mind and external nature, so has He implanted, or
caused to be generated, in us, various higher intellectual
-faculties. In every intelligent bemg He has laid the
foundation of emotions that point to Him, affections by
which we are drawn to Him, and which rest in Him as
their object. In the mind of the rudest slave, left to the
education of the mere elements around him, sentiments
arise which lead him to a Parent and a Creator. ‘These
feelings spring up spontaneously ; they are universal, and
not to be shaken off; and no better example than this can
be given of the adaptation of the mind to the various
relations in which man is placed, or one that tends more
to raise in us a conception of the Author of our being, and
increase our estimation of ourselves, as allied to Him.

This it is, perhaps, necessary to premise, when I am
about to prove the extensive influence of the corporeal on
the intellectual part of man.

In examining the phenomena of the mind, philosophers
too much overlooked this relation between the mental
and the condition of the bodily frame. It ap-
pears to me that the frame of the body, exclusive of the
special organs of seeing, hearing, &c. is a complex organ,
I shall not say of sense, but which ministers, like the
that is to say, as the organs

have
operations

external senses, to the mind ;

84 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

of the five senses serve to furnish ideas of matter, the
framework of the body contributes, in certain conditions,
to develope various states of the mind.

In the affections which we call passions or emotions,
there is an influence which points to the breast as the part
where they are felt. Some have asserted that they are
seated in the bowels; and the sensations I am about to
describe have been arrayed as proofs that the affections
exist in the body. But that, I affirm, is impossible. They
are conditions of the mind, and cannot be seated in the
body, although they both influence and are influenced by it.

We have learned enough to know that the impressions
communicated by the external organs of sense belong really
to the mind; and there can be no doubt that there is a
mutual influence exercised by the mind and frame on each
other. This is not asserted on the mere grounds that each
affection which is deeply felt, is accompanied by a disturb-
ance in our breast; nor on the language of mankind, which
gives universal assent to this proposition ; but it may be
proved by circumstances of expression, in which we cannot
be deceived. I shall make it manifest that what the eye,
the ear, or the finger, is to the mind, as exciting those ideas
which have been appointed to correspond with the qualities
of the material world, the organs of the breast are to the
developement of our affections; and that without them we
might see, hear, and smell, but we should walk the earth
coldly indifferent to all emotions which may be said in an
especial manner to animate us, and give interest and grace
to human thoughts and actions.

By emotions are meant certain changes or affections of
the mind, as grief, joy, astonishment. That such states or
conditions of the mind should in any degree pertain to the
body, may not, perhaps, be willingly admitted, unless we

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 85

take along with us that the ideas of sense, as light, sound,
or taste, are generated by the organs of the senses, and
not by any thing received and conveyed by them to the
sensorium. It is ascertained that the different organs of
the senses can be exercised, and give rise to sensation and
perception, when there is no corresponding outward im-
pression; and the ideas thus excited are according to the
organ struck or agitated: that is, the same impression
conveyed to different organs of sense will give rise to a
variety of sensations; as light, when the eye is struck ;
sound, when the ear is struck; and so on with the other
organs; the sensation corresponding with the organ which
is exercised, and not with the cause of the impression. A
needle passed through the retina, the organ of vision, will
produce the sensation of a spark of fire, not of sharpness or
pain; and the same needle, if applied to the papille of
the tongue, will give rise to the sense of taste ; while if it
prick the skin, pain will follow. This law of the senses is
arbitrarily or divinely ordered; it might have been other-

the senses operate in producing specific ideas, independ-
ently: of their own peculiar exciting causes, we can com-

prehend better how other organs of the body may have a |

relation established with the mind, and a control over it,
without reference to outward impressions.

Let us consider the heart, in its office _of receiving the
influence of the mind, and of reflecting » that influence.

It may, in the first place, be observed, that there is
hardly an organ of the body limited to one function ; all
are complex in their operation. How many offices, for
example, are performed by the lungs? It is a singular
fact in the history of physiological opinions, that the
heart, an organ the most susceptible of being excited by

~

wise. Accordingly, when we observe that the organs of )

oS gage Te eT I re a

86 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

the agitations or derangements of the body, should have
been considered at one time as insensible. And yet in
one sense it is true that it is so. To actual touch the
heart is insensible, as was exhibited to the illustrious
Harvey, in the person of a young nobleman, who had
the heart exposed by disease. This single circumstance,
had there been no other evidence, should have earlier
directed physiologists to a correct view of the matter;
from its proving that the internal organs are affected
and united by sensibilities which are altogether different
in kind from those bestowed upon the skin. The
sensibility of the external surface of the body is a spe-
cial endowment adapted to the elements around, and
calculated to protect the interior parts from injury. But
though the heart has not this common sense of touch, yet
it has an appropriate sensibility, by which it is held
united in the closest connexion and sympathy with the
other vital organs; so that it participates in all the
changes of the general system of the body.

But connected with the heart, and depending on its
peculiar and excessive sensibility, there is an extensive
apparatus which demands our attention. This is the
organ of breathing: a part known obviously as the in-
strument of speech; but which I shall shew to be more.
‘The organ of breathing, in its association with the heart,
is the instrument of expression, and is the part of the
frame, by the action of which the emotions are developed

and made visible to us. Certain strong feelings of the
mind produce a disturbed condition of the heart; and
through that corporeal influence, directly from the heart,
indirectly from the mind, the extensive apparatus con-
stituting the organ of breathing is put in motion, and
gives us the outward signs which we call expression. The

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 87

man was wrong who found fault with nature for not
placing a window before the heart, in order to render
visible human thoughts and intentions. ‘There is, in
truth, provision made in the countenance and outward
bearing for such discoveries.

One, ignorant of the grounds on which these opinions
are founded, has said, “‘ Every strong emotion is directed
towards the heart: the heart experiences various kinds of
sensation, pleasant or unpleasant, over which it has no
control; and from thence the agitated spirits are diffused
over the body.” The fact is certainly so, although the
language be figurative. How are these spirits diffused,
and what are their effects ?

We find that the influence of the heart upon the
extended organ of respiration has sway at so early a
period of our existence, that we must acknowledge that
the operation or play of the instrument of expression
precedes the mental emotions with which they are to be
joined, accompanies them in their first dawn, strengthens
them, and directs them. So that it is not, perhaps, too
much to conclude that, from these organs moving in
sympathy with the mind, the same uniformity is produced

among men, in their internal feelings, emotions, or passions, _

as there exists in their ideas of external nature from the
uniform operations of the organs of sense.

Let us place examples before us, and then try whether
the received doctrines of the passions will furnish us with
an explanation of the phenomena, or whether we must go
deeper, and seek the assistance of anatomy.

In the expression of the passions, there is a compound
influence in operation. Let us contemplate the appear-
ance of terror. We can readily conceive why a man
Stands with eyes intently fixed on the object of his fears,

Sia So ere a NN ose

sh es: a ey

88 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

the eyebrows elevated to the utmost, and the eye largely
uncovered ; or why, with hesitating and bewildered steps,
his eyes are rapidly and wildly in search of something.

In this, we only perceive the intent application of his
mind to the object of his apprehensions —its direct in-
fluence on the outward organ. But observe him further :
there is a spasm on his breast, he cannot breathe freely,
the chest is elevated, the muscles of his neck and
shoulders are in action, his breathing is short and rapid,
there is a gasping and a convulsive motion of his lips, a
tremor on his hollow cheek, a gulping and catching of
his throat; and why does his heart knock at his ribs,
while yet there is no force of circulation ?— for his lips
and cheeks are ashy pale.

So in grief, if we attend to the same class of pheno-
mena, we shall be able to draw an exact picture. Let us
imagine to ourselves the overwhelming influence of grief
on woman. ‘The object in her mind has absorbed all the
powers of the frame, the body is no more regarded, the
spirits have left it, it reclines, and the limbs gravitate ;

ae they are nerveless and relaxed, and she scarcely breathes ;

| but why comes at intervals the long-drawn sigh ?— why
| are the neck and throat convulsed? — what causes the
' swelling and quivering of the lips, and the deadly paleness
of the face?— or why is the hand so pale and earthly
cold?— and why, at intervals, as the agony returns, does
the convulsion spread over the frame like a paroxysm of
suffocation ?

It must, I think, be acknowledged, when we come to
arrange these phenomena, these outward signs of the
passions, that they cannot proceed from the direct influ-
ence of the mind alone. ‘ However strange it may sound to
unaccustomed ears, it is to the heart and lungs, and all

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 89

the extended instrument of breathing, that we are to trace
these effects.

Over such motions of the body the mind has an
unequal control. By a strong effort the outward tokens |
may be restrained, at least in regard to the general —
bearing of the body; but who, while suffering, can retain —
the natural fulness of his features, or the healthful colour
of his cheek, the unembarrassed respiration and clearness
of the natural voice? The villam may command his
voice, and mask his purpose with light and _ libertine
words, or carry an habitual sneer of contempt of all softer
passions; but his unnatural paleness, and the sinking of
his features, will betray that he suffers. Clarence says to —
his murderers,

“ How deadly dost thou speak !
Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale?”

But the just feelings of mankind demand respect ; men
will not have the violence of grief obtruded on them. ‘To

preserve the dignity of his character, the actor must per-
mit those uncontrollable signs of suffering alone to escape,
which betray how much he feels, and how much he restrains.

Even while asleep, these interior organs of feeling will
prevail, and disclose the source of expression. Has my
reader seen Mrs. Siddons in Queen Katharine during
that solemn scene where the sad note was played which
she named her knell? Who taught the crowd sitting at a
play, an audience differing in age, habits, and education,
to believe those quivering motions, and that gentle smile,
and those slight convulsive twitchings, to be true to
nature? To see every one hushed to the softest breathing
of sympathy with the silent expression of the actress, ex-
hibits all mankind held together by one universal feeling :
and that feeling, excited by expression, so deeply laid in

L

90 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

our nature, as to have influence, without being obvious to
reason.

To illustrate this curious subject, I shall first explain
the extensive connexions which are established betwixt the
great organs that sustain life and the muscular system of
the face, neck, and chest. I shall then shew that the
functions of these organs are affected by passions of the
mind. I shall prove that this connexion subsists at the
moment of birth, and accompanies us through life; and,
finally, that from this source are derived those obscure in-
dications of emotion in the countenance and general frame,
which cannot be explained on the supposition of a direct
influence of the mind on the muscles of expression.

The heart and the lungs may be safely taken as two
parts which are combined in the same function. The
action of the heart, and the motion of the lungs, are equally
necessary to the circulation of that blood which is fitted
for the supply of the body; and the interruption of their
motions threatens life. Accordingly, these two organs are
united by nerves, and consequently by the closest sympathy ;
and in all the variations to which they are liable, they are
still found to correspond, the accelerated action of the one
being directly followed by the excitement of the other.

The motion of the lungs proceeds from a force altogether 7
external to them: they themselves are passive, being moved
by a very great number of muscles which le upon the
breast, back, and neck; that is, the exterior muscles give
play to the ribs, and the lungs follow the motions of
the chest. The heart and lungs, though insensible to
common impression, yet being acutely alive to their proper

stimulus, suffer from the slightest change of posture or

exertion of the frame, and also from the changes or
affections of the mind. ‘The impression thus made on

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 91

these internal organs is not visible by its effect upon them,
but on the external and remote muscles associated with
them. This law exists in all mankind; we see the con-
sequence in those susceptible and nervous persons, whom
the mere change of position, or the effort of rising, or the
slightest emotion of mind, flutters and agitates. But it is
when the strong are subdued by this mysterious union of
soul and body, when passion tears the breast, that the most
afflicting picture of human frailty is presented, and the
surest proof afforded, that it is on the respiratory organs
that the influence of passion falls with so powerful an
expression of agony.

The next circumstance of this detail to which I beg
attention, is the extent of the actions of respiration: the
remoteness of the parts agitated in sympathy with the
heart. The act of respiration is not limited to the trunk ;
the actions of certain muscles of the windpipe, the throat,
the lips, the nostrils, are necessary to expand those tubes
and openings, so that the air may be admitted through,
them in respiration, with a freedom corresponding with
the increased action of the chest. Without this, the sides
of these pliant tubes would fall together, and we should be
suffocated by exertion or passion. Let us consider how
‘Many muscles are combined in the simple act of breath-
ing—how many are added in the act of coughing— how
these are changed and modified in sneezing ;—let us reflect
on the various combinations of muscles of the throat, wind-
pipe, tongue, lips, in speaking and singing, and we shall
be able justly to estimate the extent of the muscles which
are associated with the proper or simple act of dilating and
compressing the chest. But how much more numerous ©
are the changes wrought upon these muscles, when nature
employs them in the double capacity of communicating our |

92 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

thoughts and feelings; not in the language of sounds
merely, but in the language of expression in the coun-
tenance also; for certainly the one is as much their office
as the other. a

The nervous system is complex in an extraordinary
degree; but the reader may not be deterred from attempt-
ing to understand at least so much, that there is a class of
nerves appropriated to respiration. ‘These nerves arise
' from the same part of the brain; the great central nerve
descends into the chest, to be distributed to the heart and
lungs; and the others extend to*the exterior muscles of
the chest, neck, and face. Under the influence of the
central nerve, the diverging external ones become the
instruments of breathing and of expression. ‘The labour of
many months discloses to the anatomist but a part of these
nervous cords; and the consideration of the uses they
serve presents the most overwhelming proof of the ex-
cellence of design,—but a design made manifest by the
results, rather than comprehensible in its means.

Can we perfectly understand how tickling the throat
should produce a convulsion over the whole frame, in which
a hundred muscles are finely adjusted, and proportioned in —
their actions to expel what irritates the windpipe? or how
tickling the nostril should make a change in these muscles,
throw some out, and bring others into action, to the effect
of sending the air through a different tube to remove what
is offensive, and all this without the act of the will?

Let us see how the machine works. Observe a man
threatened with suffocation: remark the sudden and wild
energy that pervades every feature ; the contractions of his
throat, the gasping and the spasmodic twitchings of his
face, the heaving of his chest and shoulders, and how he
stretches his hands and catches like a drowning man.

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 93

These are efforts made under the oppressive, intolerable
sensation at his heart; and the means which nature em-
ploys, to guard and preserve the animal machine, giving
to the vital organ a sensibility that irresistibly excites to
the utmost exertion.

It is this painful sensation that introduces us to “ this
breathing world ;” which guards the vital functions through
life, as it draws us into existence. Pain is the agent which
most effectually rouses the dormant faculties of both mind
and body. While the child slumbers in the womb it does
not live by breathing, it possesses an organ which performs
the office of the lungs. In the birth there is a short in-
terval, betwixt the loss of the one organ, and the sub-
stitution of the other; nor would the breath ever be
drawn, or the lungs perform their function, but for this

painful and irresistible mzsws, which calls the whole cor-

responding muscles into action. Spasms and contractions
are seen to extend over the infant’s chest; the features
are working, and the muscles of the face agitated, pro-
bably for the first time; at last air is admitted into the
lungs, a feeble cry is heard, the air in successive inspira-
tions fully dilates the chest, and the child cries lustily.
Now the regular respiration is established, and the animal
machinery subsides into repose.

“We came crying hither.
Thou know’st, the first time that we smell the air
We wawl and ery :—I will preach to thee: mark,
When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools !”—Lear.

With the revolution which the whole economy has
undergone, new wants are engendered, new appetites ;
these are again lulled by the mother’s breast. During all

94 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

this no one sympathises with the little sufferer, the grimace
with which he enters the world excites only smiles.

“ On parent’s knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat’st, while all around thee smiled —
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep
Calm thou may’st smile, when all around thee weep.”
From the Persian.

«¢ Anger,” says Lord Bacon, “ is certainly a kind of
baseness, as it appears well in the weakness of those
subjects in whom it reigns—children, women, old folks,
sick folks.” But this I may say, thet anger is at no period
of life so strongly impressed upon human features, as in
the first moment of our visiting the light. At the instant
of our birth, an association of muscles is formed, and at
the same time put in operation, stamping a character of
expression which betrays the wants of the body in early
infancy, and the sufferings of the mind in the after period.
The frame of the body, constituted for the support of the
vital functions, becomes the instrument of expression; and
an extensive class of passions, by influencing the heart, by
affecting that sensibility which governs the muscles of
respiration, calls them into co-operation, so that they be-
come an undeviating and sure sign of certain states or
conditions of the mind. They are the organs of expression.

Returning now to the contemplation of any of the
stronger passions, we comprehend much which was before
obscure. We see why that grief which strikes the heart
should affect the regularity of breathing *— why the muscles
of the throat should be affected with spasm—why slight
quivering motions pass from time to time over the face, the

* « The grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.”
Macbeth.

ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION. 95

lips, and cheeks, and nostrils;—because these are the
organs of \respiration, organs which have their muscles
united to the sensibility of the heart, and moved under its
influence. Now we comprehend, how the passion of rage
or terror binds and tightens the chest, how the features
are so singularly agitated by the indirect, as well as by the
direct influence of the passions—how the words are cut— |
how the voice sticks in the throat—how the paralysed lips |
refuse the commands of the will, so that they are held in a |
mixed state of violence and weakness, which, more than

any fixed expression, characterises the influence of the/

passion.

Biusuinc.— The sudden flushing of the countenance
in blushing belongs to expression, as one of the many |
sources of sympathy which bind us together. This suffusion |
serves no purpose of the economy, whilst we must acknow- |
ledge the interest which it excites as an indication of mind. |
It adds perfection to the features of beauty.*

The colour which attends exertion, or the violent pas-
sions, as of rage, arises from general vascular excitement,
and differs from blushing. Blushing is too sudden and too
partial to be traced to the heart’s action. ‘That it is
provision for expression may be inferred from the ae |
extending only to the surface of the face, neck, and breast,
the parts most exposed. It is not acquired; it is from the
beginning. It is unlike the effect of powerful, depressing
emotions, which influence the whole body. ‘The sudden
conviction of the criminal is felt in every pore; but the
colour caused by blushing gives brilliancy and interest to

* Dr. Burgess, who has written a volume on “ Blushing,” affirms that
a Circassian maid who blushes, brings a higher price in the slave-market !

96 ON THE SOURCES OF EXPRESSION.

the expression of the face. In this we perceive an ad-
vantage possessed by the fair family of mankind, and which
must be lost to the dark; for I can hardly believe that a
blush may be seen in the Negro.* We think of blushes as
accompanying shame; but it is mdicative of excitement.

There is no shame when lively feeling makes a timid youth

break through the restraint which modesty and reserve
have imposed. It is becoming in youth, it is seemly in
more advanced years in women. Blushing assorts well
with youthful and with effeminate features; whilst nothing
is more hateful than a dog-face, that exhibits no token of
sensibility in the variations of colour.

* A wound in the black leaves a scar in which the dark pigment of
the skin is wanting; and the white spot, formed by such a cicatrix in the
face of the Negro, reddens with passion.

In contrasting, by. comparative anatomy, the internal structure of
animals, we find in some classes, parts of the organisation apparently
useless or superfluous, to discover the full developement and appropriate
functions of which, we must refer to other classes. Ifthe black blushes
unseen, it only shews that the incidental colour does not affect the
general structure and processes.

ESSAY IV.

OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE IN MAN.

Tue muscular part of the animal frame consists of a
peculiar fibrous substance, possessing the power of con-
traction, and, consequently, of producing motion. In the
limbs and trunk, the muscles are attached to the bones,
and are distinct and powerful: but as in the face they
have merely to operate on the skin, the lips, nostrils,
and eyelids, they require less power, and are, therefore,

more delicate. And that power is not always directly
under the will, like the muscular exertions of the body
and limbs; it is often involuntary, and is inseparably
united to the conditions or affections of the mind. The
latter consideration gives much interest to the subject ;
for, by this provision in the muscles, the very spirit by
which the body is animated, and the various emotions,

shine out in the countenance.

It has been said that the superiority of the human face
in expression is an accidental effect of the number of
muscles which are provided in man for the faculty of
speech. That many of the muscles called into action in
speech are also employed in expression will be readily
admitted; but besides these, there are muscles of the
human features which have no connexion with the voice,

M

98 MUSCLES OF THE FOREHEAD AND EYEBROW.

muscles proper to man, but we shall find that he also
possesses the peculiarities of two great classes of the lower
animals, having the muscles which are characteristic of
both these classes combined in his face.

To understand what follows, it is not necessary for the
reader to know more of the structure of muscles than that
they are formed of distinct packets of fibres; that the
extremities are called their origins and insertions: the
fixed extremity, attached generally to some point of bone,
being the origin ; the extremity which is moved, the inser-
tion. I shall consider the muscles of the face in three
groups. First, those which surround the eye; secondly,
those which move the nostrils; and lastly, those around
the mouth.

And first,

OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FOREHEAD AND EYEBROW.

The forehead is more than any other part characteristic
) of the human countenance. It is the seat of thought, a
tablet where every emotion is distinctly impressed ; and the
eyebrow is the moveable type for this fair page.

«“ Frons hominis tristitiz, hilaritatis, clementie, severitatis, index est.”
PLINY.

The eye is the chief feature of expression. It takes a
thousand shades from the relations of the surrounding parts ;
and the eyebrow, that dark arch which surmounts it, is
itself an eloquent index of the mind. Some one has called
the eyebrow “the rainbow of peace, or the bended bow of
discord.”

MUSCLES OF THE FOREHEAD AND EYEBROW. 99

There are four muscles attached to the eyebrow.

1. A muscle, called occrpito frontalis (a), descends over
the forehead, and is inserted into the eyebrow, where it
mingles its fibres with the next muscle. ‘The simple
action of the frontal portion of the occipito frontalis is to |
raise or arch the eyebrow, as in surprise or doubt; or, as |
if we meant to say, “‘ I must look further into this.

99

2. The muscle which closes the eyelids, is the orbrcu-
laris palpebrarum (8). We shall divide this muscle into
three parts. Its fibres surround the eye, being spread in a
circular direction upon the margin of the orbit and the
eyelids. The stronger portion, encircling the orbit, shuts
the eyelids with that spasmodic force which is felt when
something irritating is thrown into the eye. The paler
and more delicate fibres, which lie more immediately upon
the eyelids, gently close the eye, as in winking, or in sleep.
A third set of fibres is situated directly on the margins of
the eyelids.* It is the outer and stronger circle which |
draws down the eyebrow, and is the direct opponent of the |
occipito frontalis.

* For the actions of these different portions of the general muscle,
see the author’s “ Practical Essays,” Part I. on Squinting.

100 MUSCLES OF THE FOREHEAD AND EYEBROW.

3. The third muscle (c), is properly a part of the first,
and is termed the descending slip of the occipito frontalis.
As it descends on the side of the nose to be attached to
the bridge, it has a different effect from the greater part
of the muscle: it draws down the inner extremity of the
eyebrow.

4. The next muscle is the corrugator supercilii (p).
It arises from the lowest point of the frontal bone, where
it joins the bones of the nose, and running obliquely
upwards, is inserted into the skin under the eyebrow. The
two muscles acting together knit the eyebrows. These are
the muscles of the forehead and eyebrows.

In the arched and polished forehead, terminated by the
distinct line of the eyebrow, there is an especial capacity
for indicating human thought. The lines drawn here often
give meaning of a high character to motions of the features
in the lower part of the face, which would otherwise
express mere animal activity. And it is not a fleshy brow
that is best adapted for expression. The fulness of the
forehead and around the eyes, which the artists and poets
combined to give to Hercules, conveys the idea of dull,
brutal strength, and a lowering expression; while the fore-
head of the thin, pale student, may evince intelligence or
elevation of thought.

The levator palpebre superioris, the muscle which
raises the upper eyelid, and is an opponent of the orbi-
cularis, arises deep within the orbit, and is attached in
front to the cartilage which gives form and firmness to the
upper eyelid.

There are also within the orbit six other muscles,
which are inserted into the eyeball. Their action is a
subject. of high interest, to discuss which would require
a volume. I must limit myself to the question of the

THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE. 101

expression of the eye; referring the reader for more ample
illustrations, to those memoirs which treat of the sub-
serviency of the muscles to vision, and of their action in
cleaning the cornea, and protecting the organ.*

OF THE EXPRESSION OF THE HUMAN EYE.

The eye is the most lively feature in the countenance ;
the first of our senses to awake, and the last to cease
motion. It is indicative of the higher and the holier
emotions—of all those feelings which distinguish man
from the brutes.

A large eye is not only consistent with beauty, but
necessary to it. The eye of the eagle, even of the ox, is
familiar in the similes of poets. The Arab expresses his
idea of a woman’s beauty, by saying, that she has the eye
of the gazelle; it is the burthen of their songs. The
timidity, gentleness, and innocent fear, in the eye of the
deer tribe, are compared with the modesty of a young girl.
“Let her be as the loving hind, and pleasant roe.” In

the eye we look for meaning, for human sentiment, for

reproof.t

Do architects study enough, when arranging the masses
of their buildings for effect, how the shadows will fall?
The statuary, at all events, must. ‘The eye ought to be
sunk,” says Winkleman.t Yes, relatively to the forehead ;
but not in reference to the face. That would give a very
mean expression. It is the strong shadow produced by the

* See the “Nervous System,” 4th edition, p. 145; “ Bridgewater
Treatise on the Hand,” 4th edition, p. 329.

+ “I gave him,” said Dr. Parr, “the chastisement of my eye.”

t “ Aux tétes idéales, les yeux sont toujours plus enfoncés, qu’ils ne
le sont en général dans la nature.”

102 THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE.

projecting eyebrow, which gives powerful effect to the eye,
in sculpture.

We have said, that the eye indicates the holier emotions.
In all stages of society, and in every clime, the posture and
expression of reverence have been the same. ‘The works
of the great masters, who have represented the more
sublime passions of man, may be adduced as evidences: by
the upturned direction of the eyes, and a correspondence
of feature and attitude, they address us in language in-
telligible to all mankind. The humble posture and raised
eyes are natural, whether in the darkened chamber, or
under the open vault of heaven.

On first consideration, it seems merely consistent, that
when pious thoughts prevail, man should turn his eyes from
things earthly to the purer objects above. But there is a
reason for this, which is every way worthy of attention.
When subject to particular influences, the natural position
of the eyeball is to be directed upwards. In sleep, languor,

and depression, or when affected with strong emotions, the
eyes naturally and insensibly roll upwards. ‘The action is
not a voluntary one; it is irresistible. Hence, in reverence,
in devotion, in agony of mind, in all sentiments of pity,
in bodily pain with fear of death, the eyes assume that

position.

Let us explain by what muscles the eyes are so revolved.
There are two sets of muscles which govern the motions
of the eyeball. Four straight muscles, attached at car-
dinal points, by combining their action, move it in every
direction required for vision ; and these muscles are subject
to the will. When the straight muscles, from weariness or
exhaustion, cease to guide the eye, two other muscles operate
to roll it upwards under the eyelid: these are the oblique
muscles. Accordingly, in sleep, in fainting, in approaching

THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE. 103

death, when the four voluntary muscles resign their action,
and insensibility creeps over the retina, the oblique muscles
prevail, and the pupil is revolved, so as to expose only the
white of the eye. It is so far consolatory to reflect, that
the apparent agony indicated by this direction of the eyes,
in fainting or the approach of death, is the effect of en-

croaching insensibility —of objects impressed on the nerve

of vision being no longer perceived.

“We thus see that when wrapt in devotional feelings,
and when outward impressions are unheeded, the eyes are
raised, by an action neither taught nor acquired. It is by
this instinctive motion we are led to bow with humility —
to look upwards in prayer, and to regard the visible
heavens as the seat of God.

“ Prayer is the upward glancing of the eye,
When none but God is near.”

Although the savage does not always distinguish God |
from the heavens above him, this direction of the eye would
appear to be the source of the universal belief that the
Supreme Being has His throne above. ‘The idolatrous
Negro in praying for rice and yams, or that he may be
active and swift, lifts up his eyes to the canopy of the
sky.* So, in intercourse with God, although we are taught
that our globe is ever revolving: though religion inculcates
that the Almighty is every where, yet, under the influence
of this position of the eye, which is no doubt designed for
a purpose,—we seek Him on high. ‘I will lift up mine
eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.” t

* Barzot: “Description of Guinea.”

+ The same influence, which thus induces.a posture of the body in
accommodation to the eye, makes the attitude of stooping the sign of
supplication —of obeisance—and courtesy, among all nations. “ And
Araunah looked, and saw the king and his servants coming on towards

waa

We Feo
:

104 THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE.

See, then, how this property of our bodily frame has
influenced our opinions, and belief; our conceptions of the
Deity—our religious observances—our poetry, and daily

habits.

Although the geologist may think that the account in
the Scriptures of the formation of the earth, is contradicted

him: and Araunah went out, and bowed himself before the king, on his
face upon the ground.” So, Abraham: “ And he lift up his eyes and
looked, and lo, three men stood by him; and when he saw them he ran
to meet them from the tent door, and bowed himself toward the ground.”

The Mahomedans, in acts of devotion, cross their hands on their
bosom and incline the head.

THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE. — 105

by his theories, we perceive in our present investigation
a strict agreement in man’s inmost structure with the book
of life: and we may say with Kepler, that man should
not resign his natural feelings and thoughts in pursuit of
philosophy, “but that, lifting up his natural eyes, with
which alone he can see, he should from his own heart
pour himself out in worship to the Creator; being certain
that he gives no less worship to God than the astronomer.”

By this physical conformation, combined with our
highest quality of mind, we are led to the expression of
devotion. The design of man’s being was, that he
might praise and honour his Maker. Gratitude is the
debt of our nature, and in this property of the eye
there is pointed out to us how that gratitude, which is
the distinguishing character of our minds, is to be
directed.

The orbicularis muscle of the eyelids acts powerfully in
certain kinds of expression. In laughing and crying, the
outer circle of this muscle, as it contracts, gathers up the
skin about the eye; and at the same time it compresses
the eyeball. A new interest is given to the subject when
we inquire into the object of that compression. It has a
distinct relation to the circulation of the blood within the
eye. ‘During every violent act of expiration, whether in
\\ hearty laughter, weeping, coughing, or sneezing, the eye-
. ball is firmly compressed by the fibres of the orbicularis ;
,, and this is a provision for supporting and defending the
. vascular system of the interior of the eye from a retro-
grade impulse communicated to the blood in the veins
at that time. When we contract the chest, and expel the
air, there is a retardation of the blood in the veins of the
neck and head ; and in the more powerful acts of expulsion,
the blood not only distends the vessels, but is even regurgi-

106 THE EXPRESSION OF THE EYE.

’ tated into the minute branches. Were the eye not pro-
perly compressed at that time, and a resistance given to

» the shock, irreparable injury might be inflicted on the
delicate textures of the interior of the eye-*, Hence we see
a reason for the closed state of the eyelids, and wrinkling
of the surrounding skin, and twinkling of the eye, in
hearty laughter.

In the drunkard, there is a heaviness of eye, a dis-
position to squint, and to see double, and a forcible
elevation of the eyebrow to counteract the dropping of
the upper eyelid, and preserve the eyes from closing.
Hogarth has very happily caught this hanging of the
eyelid, with the effort in the muscles of the forehead to

| prevent it from actually falling. The peculiar expression
| may be thus explained. In the stupor of inebriation, the
voluntary muscles of the eyeball resign their action to the
oblique muscles, which, as we have seen, instinctively
revolve the eye upwards when insensibility comes on: at
the same time, the muscle which elevates the upper lid
yields, in sympathy with the oblique muscles, to the action
of the orbicularis which closes the eyes, and the eyelid
drops. ‘The condition is, in short, the same as that of
falling asleep ; when the eyeball revolves as the lids close,
It is the struggle of the drunkard to resist, with his
half-conscious efforts, the rapid turning up of the eye, and
to preserve it under the control of the voluntary muscles,
that makes him see objects distorted, and strive, by
arching his eyebrows, to keep the upper lid from de-

* “Tf we separate the eyelids of a child to examine the eye, while it

'‘ cries and struggles with passion, by taking off the natural support to the

«vascular system of the eye, and the means of guarding it against the rush

‘‘of blood then occurring, the conjunctiva becomes suddenly filled with
blood, and the eyelids everted.”— Nervous System, p. 175, >

OF THE MUSCLES OF THE NOSTRILS. 107

scending. ‘The puzzled appearance which this gives rise
to, along with the relaxation of the lower part of the face,
and the slight paralytic obliquity of the mouth, complete
the degrading expression.

OF THE MUSCLES OF THE NOSTRILS.

The nostrils are features which have a powerful effect
in expression. The breath being drawn through them, and
their structure formed for alternate expansion and con-
traction in correspondence with the motions of the chest,
they are an index of the condition of respiration, when

affected by emotion. As they consist of cartilages moved
by appropriate muscles, acting in strict sympathy with
the drawing of the breath, they become expressive of
animal excitement.

We may enumerate four muscles which move the
cartilages of the nostrils.
Levator labii superioris et ale nasi (A).— This muscle
arises from the upper jawbone, and descends to the lip;
N

108 MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS.

but a part of it stops short, to be attached to the moveable
cartilage of the nostril; it raises the nostril along with the
upper lip.

The Depressor ale nasi (8) arises from the upper
jawbone, close to the sockets of the front teeth; it ascends
and is inserted into the lateral cartilage of the nostril, and
pulls down that cartilage.

The Compressor nasi (c) arises from the cartilaginous
bridge of the nose,* and is inserted into the lateral
cartilage of the nostril. ‘The name would imply that this
muscle compresses the membraneous part of the nose,
which it does; but its principal action must be to expand
the nostril, by raising the lateral cartilage.

The next muscle is a slip of the Orbicularis oris (D),
which, detaching itself from the mass of that muscle, runs
up to the edge of the septum of the nose.

Thus we see how nature has provided for the motions
of the nostrils. ‘The actions of these muscles are con-

trolled by a nerve of the class which has been distin-

guished as subservient to the apparatus of breathing; and
it is owing to this that the sympathy is established be-
tween the general act of drawing the breath and the
expansion of the nostrils. As the motions of the nostrils,
however, are intimately connected with those of the lips, I
shall defer making any further observations upon them,
until the muscles of the mouth have been described.

MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS.

The fleshy structure of the lips is in a great measure
owing to a circular muscle which surrounds the mouth.

* That is certainly its most fixed extremity.

MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS. 109

This muscle closes the lips, and is the opponent of many
other muscles, which, taking their origin from the pro-
minent points of the bones of the face, are concentred
towards the mouth, and, besides opening it, move the lips in
various directions. We must look upon the whole of these
muscles in three points of view. 1, as belonging to masti-
cation, turning the morsel, and placing it under the action
of the teeth ; 2, as part of the organ of speech; and 3, as
powerful agents in expression.

Orbicularis oris (a).— The fibres of this circular
muscle can be traced continuously round the lips, and have
properly no origin. We have already taken notice of the
Levator labii superioris et ale nasi (8), some fibres of
which are inserted into the upper lip.

The Levator labi proprius (c) arises from the upper
jaw, near the orbit. It is attached exclusively to the upper
lip, and raises it.

Levator anguli oris (p). — This muscle lies under the

last, and is, of course, shorters it) Taises the angle of the
mouth. Se. wv

110 MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS.

cess of the cheekbone, which joins the temporal bone ; it
is inserted into the angle of the mouth.

There is sometimes an additional muscle, arising and
inserted in a similar manner, called the zygomaticus
minor (F).

The Buccinator (some of the fibres of which are re-
presented by eG) is a flat muscle, which lines the inside of
the cheek, and, arising from the sockets of the back teeth
of both jawbones, is inserted into the angle of the mouth.

As the teeth of man indicate that he is omnivorous,
and intermediate between the two great tribes of animals—
, the carnivorous and herbivorous, we expect the muscles
| also to exhibit the same middle state and to partake the
\ characters of both these classes. And such is found to be
the case. The three muscles last enumerated combine to
raise and retract the angle of the mouth, and by doing so,
they expose the canine teeth. Now this group of muscles
is especially powerful in the carnivorous animal; they lift
the fleshy lips off the long tearing fangs of the lion or
_ tiger, and produce a fierceness of expression. But in the
milder graminivorous animals the same class of muscles have
a different direction given to their action, and they are not
capable of elevating the angles of the mouth in a similar
manner. In ourselves, when these muscles draw upon the
orbicularis, and disclose the angular teeth, a painful and
bitter expression is the effect. But before we can speak
correctly on this subject, we must pursue the description of
the remaining muscles.

_ Of the muscles which depress the lips, there is,
Ist. The Triangularis oris, or depressor anguli oris

(41), a comparatively powerful muscle, which arises from
the base of the lower jaw, and is inserted into the angle of
the mouth.

MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS. 111

In the drawing, some muscular fibres (1) may be seen,
which join the triangularis oris, and pass to the angle of
the mouth. These are part of a superficial muscle of the
neck,— the platysma-myoides ; the fibres of which mount
over the jaw to terminate on the cheek. ‘The uppermost
fasciculus, represented in the drawing, has been de-
scribed by Santorini as a distinct muscle, and from its
action in laughter, has obtained the name Risorius San-
torint.

The Quadratus menti (x), a small square muscle,
situated on the chin, depresses the lower lip.

The Levator menti (L) is a small muscle, which arises
from the lower jaw, near the sockets of the front teeth,
and passes to be inserted into the centre of the integument
of the chin. When both muscles act, they throw up the
chin, and project the lower lip.

The angle of the mouth is full of expression; and
much is implied, according to the prevailing action of the
superior or inferior class of muscles. The triangularis
oris and the levator menti combine to produce a kind of
expression which is peculiar to man. The angle of the
mouth is drawn down by the former, while the lower lip
is arched and elevated, with a contemptuous effect, by the |
latter; whence the levator menti has sometimes been
called swperbus. ‘The union of so many muscles at the
angle of the lips produces that fulness about the mouth
remarkable in those who are both thin and muscular. In
the child, or youth, whose face is plump, they make the
dimple in the cheek. It is perceived that the orbicularis
is the opponent of all the muscles which are concentred
from various points to the lips; and it is by the successive
action and relaxation of these antagonising muscles that so
much and so varied expression is given to the mouth.

412 MUSCLES OF THE LIPS AND CHEEKS.

This circular muscle is affected in various emotions ;_ it
tremblingly yields to the superior force of its counteracting
muscles, both in joy and grief: it relaxes pleasantly in
smiling; it is drawn more powerfully by its opponent
muscles in weeping.

We can have no better illustration of how much depends
on the function exercised by the mouth, for the par-
ticular character impressed on the lower part of the face,
when the lips are in motion, than by watching the features
of a preacher or advocate engaged in his vocation, and
afterwards, if opportunity offers, looking at the play of the
same jaws and lips, when over a trencher. The whole
machinery from the temple downwards, and from the
angle of the jaw to the chin, is in operation during masti-
cation; whereas, in the most impassioned discourse, the
action is concentrated to the lips.

In speaking, there is much motion of the lower lip,
and consequently, activity in those muscles which form the
fulness of the chin: yet a remarkable variety is produced
in the lines which mark the features about the upper lip,
by the play of the different muscles which converge to the
mouth from the margins of the orbits. But this subject has
further interest.

The organisation necessary to speech, the great instru-
ment of human thought, is widely dispersed: that is, for
the utterance of sound there must conform, a motion
of the lungs or chest, an adjustment of the larynx and
pharynx, and a fine modulation of the lips. It is more
directly from the motions of the tongue and lips that
articulate sounds proceed; and the connexion of the
numerous muscles brought into operation in these actions,
is congenital with the awakening intellect. Long before

a child is taught to speak, we may see an imperfect

OF THE BEARD. its

agitation of the lips and cheeks ; and sounds are uttered
which wait only for the effort of imitation to become
language.

These remarks bear out our former statement, that
beauty in the lips and lower part of the countenance
of a well-formed face, has relation to the perfection of
the structure viewed in connexion with speech, and in
contrast with the apparatus for mastication. ‘The pos-
session of an instrument of speech is instinctively asso-
ciated in our thoughts with the most exalted endowments
of man, moral and intellectual.

OF THE BEARD.

“‘ Vidi presso di me un veglio solo,
Degna di tanta riverenza in vista,
Che pit non dee a padre alcun figliolo.
Lunga la barba e di pel bianca mista,
Portava a’ suoi capegli simigliante
De quai cadeva al petto doppia lista.”
DANTE.

The stages of man’s life are outwardly characterised.
An opinion prevails, that the form and lineaments of old
age are a consequence of the deterioration of the material
of our frame; and that the resemblance so often drawn
between an aged man leaning on his staff, and a ruin totter-
ing to its fall, is a perfect one. It is not so; the material
of the frame is ever the same: years affect it not; but
infancy, youth, maturity, and old age, have their appro-
priate outward characters. Why should the forehead be
bald, and the beard luxuriant, if not to mark the latest
epoch of man’s life? or what reason can be given for the
hair not growing on the chin during the vascular fulness of

TTT Sarina gms > ms

oe can One [— z ee —————— SS =
Tn SSS ES eee

114 OF THE BEARD.

youth, but that it would be inconsistent with the characters
of that time of life to be provided with a beard?
When these Essays were first written, there was not a

beard to be seen in England, unless joined with squalor
and neglect: and I had the conviction that this appendage
concealed the finest features. Being in Rome, however,
during the procession of the Corpus Domini, I saw that
the expression was not injured by the beard; but that
it added to the dignity and character of years. It was
evident that the fine heads by the old masters were
copies of what were then seen in nature, though now
but rarely. There were beards which nearly equalled
that of the “ Moses” of Michael Angelo, in length; and
which flowed like those in the paintings of Domenichino
and Correggio.*

The beard is characteristic of nations. In the Kast, it
is honoured; and to be shaved, is the mark of a slave.t
A beard of three hands’ breadth is a goodly show; but to
exceed that, requires a life of repose: violent exercise in
the field shortens the beard. ‘The Turks have a very poor
beard. The Persians have noble beards, and are proud of
the distinction. The beard of Futteh Ali Shah, the late
king of Persia, reached below his girdle, was full and fine,
and remarkable in a nation of beards, for having no division

* Tn the procession of the Corpus Domini, the Pope is attended by
bishops from all parts of Christendom: from Mount Lebanon and the
East, as well as from Roman Catholic Ireland. These dignitaries, with
the cardinals, the superiors of convents, the friars of various orders, and
the cavalcade of the guarda nobile, form a pageant far beyond what
royalty can attain, or can any where else be witnessed, whether we
consider the place and accompaniments, or the actors and their costumes.
Then it was, that age, with bald head, and flowing beard, and appro-
priate robes, surpassed youth and beauty, with all the trappings of the
cavalier.” — Note from Journal.

+ 2 Samuel, x. 4,

OF THE BEARD. 115

in the middle. Such a beard, during the active period of
life, shews finely on horseback; being tossed over the
shoulders in the wind, and indicating speed. In the
natural beard, the hair has a peculiarity depending on the
place from which it grows. ‘The hair of the upper lip is
more profuse, and even in the oldest man is of a darker
hue, than that of the under lip; so that falling on the
lower part, it can still be distinguished as it mixes with the
purer white. Again, the hair descending from the sides
of the face attains a greater length than that which comes
from the chin: and this is more especially the character
of age. |

In the French regiments they set frightful fellows, with
axes over their shoulders, to march in front: on their
heads is a black bear-skin cap, of the form and dimen-
sions of a drum, and they select men with beards of the
same hue, which grow in a bush, the counterpart of that
on their heads. But the face, as seen between the two
black masses, is more ludicrous than terrible, and has
an effect very different from what is intended. A com-
mon fellow’s beard, like a common fellow’s countenance,
is coarse.

Even in the Franciscan and Capuchin monks, the
beard has not always the fine character displayed in the
works of the old painters. Their models are gone with
their times. Something excessive and ideal may be repre-
sented by the beard. Michael Angelo has, perhaps, followed
Scripture, in the beard of his “ Moses,” which floats below
the girdle; and in the fresco of Jeremiah, in the Sistine
Chapel. The finest painting of the beard that I have
seen, is by Correggio, in the Scala of the Albergo dei
Poveri, in Genoa,—a fresco of the Saviour, in the arms of
the Almighty, where the beard of the Father flows beauti-

0)

116 OF THE BEARD.

fully. In short, the beard may become, with knowledge

and taste, the most characteristic part in a figure.*

Expression in the Lips and Moustaches. —Things
familiar do not always give rise to their natural association.
I was led to attend more particularly to the moustaches as
a feature of expression, in meeting a handsome young
French soldier, coming up a long ascent in the Coté d’Or,
and breathing hard, although with a good-humoured,
innocent expression. His sharp-pointed black moustaches
rose and fell with a catamountain look that set me to think
on the cause.

Every one must have observed how the nostrils play in
hard breathing.t We have seen that there is a muscle which
is the principal agent in this action; and it may be felt
swelling during inspiration, when the finger is pressed on
the upper lip, just under the nostril. It is the depressor
ale nast. The action of this muscle, under the roots of
the hairs on the lip, sensibly moves them; and as all

* « Our northern artists are unfavourably situated, not owing to the
direct influence of cold, as Winckelman imagined, but an indirect
cause. In historical painting, they draw from copies of nature, and
paint beards, as they do the naked figure, without seeing it, or being
familiar with the form and colour of the one or the other. But in Rome
also they make mistakes. I found the artists supporting a fellow, whose
beard was their model. The hair of the head, and the beard of this man,
had grown to an extraordinary length, shewing what an uncouth mass it
may become. He had been painted so often as the Father of the gods,
that in his craze he had believed himself to be no less. I said, if they
would plunge him in the Tiber, and study him as he rose, he might pass
for a river god. No; the beard is a mere mass of hair, but admits of
much character.’—Note from Journal.

+ Physiognomists make a wide nostril the sign of a fiery disposition,
It may be expressive of passion, without being the cause. The idea of
its being the seat of passion, is undoubtedly taken from animal expression.
“There went a smoke out of His nostrils,” is hardly descriptive of human
excitement.

OF THE BEARD. 117

passionate excitements influence the respiratory actions,
the nostrils and moustaches necessarily participate in the
movement in violent passions. ‘Thus, although the hair
of the upper lip does conceal the finer modulations of
the mouth, as in woman, it adds to the character of the
stronger and harsher emotions.

I continued to think of this in descending the Rhone,
in company with some French officers; they were merry
with wine, and I saw their moustaches, black, red, and
white, animated in their songs and laughter; and although
with a farouche character, these appendages rather added
to, than concealed expression. - We see the pictorial effect
in the hilarity of the Dutch boor.

The lower lip moves more than the upper. With this,
too, we are so familiar as not to be sensible of it; but if
we try the experiment of looking on the face of a friend,
in a reversed position, we shall be convinced that it is 90.
The expression of speaking results very much from the
modulation of the lower lip; and the rising and falling of
the jaw, which takes place at the same time, and more |
especially in singing, adds to the motion. Passion, how-
ever, is expressed more in the upper lip. |

In compassionating a fellow-creature, it is not natural
to look on the face reversed. Yet I have seen in a modern
picture, a soldier regarding his wounded comrade, desswu
dessous, the mouth to the forehead, the eye to the mouth.
The immediate effect was a want of sympathy, — of proper
feeling. Even the nurse turns her head in correspondence
with the face of the infant. Is the same not meant by the
Psalmist, “My heart said unto thee, Let my face seek thy
face?” This was in my mind in looking ona picture of
the Saviour, dead, lying on the knees of the Madonna; she
turns her head, bringing her face nearly parallel with that

118 OF THE BEARD.

of the Redeemer; which produces infinite grace and
tenderness. *

The drawing of the head of a man, thrown to the
ground, being to our eye reversed, has not the same effect
as when represented upright. Certain features must be
exaggerated. That is, if the painter were to draw the
face accurately, and then turn the picture the contrary
way, the head downwards, it would have no force. This
arises from the reversed features being deficient in the
accustomed harmony, and from the altered relation of the
upper and lower lips. Michael Angelo, with his other
< excellencies, was a master of expression. There is a Pieta
by him in alto-relievo,t which gives proof of this. The
piece of marble does not exceed three feet; and nothing
but expression could have given to it its celebrity.

I was never more sensible of the action of the lower
lip, as expressive of speech, than in looking on a picture
by that very extraordmary painter, Zurbaran. It repre-

sents St. Francis. He is kneeling, his hands locked
together energetically, his eyes raised, and his lower lip
has the expression of moving in prayer.t

Among the many advantages which the artist has in
the southern countries of Europe, the service of the Roman
Catholic Church affords him the chief. At all seasons, as
well as during the service of the altar, there are in the

* In the Gallery of the Academia delle Belle Arte, Bologna.
+ In the Albergo dei Poveri, in Genoa. “A Pieta is the representation

\_- of Christ resting on the lap of the mother. The eyes of the mother are
4 \shut, the mouth not open, but in the lips a form that implies she is

about to kiss the cheek. The angles of the mouth are in the slightest
degree depressed, and the lips must open when next she draws breath.” —
Note from Journal.

{ The picture is in the Spanish School of the Musée Royale of the
Louvre.

OF THE BEARD. 119

cathedrals and churches groups and single figures; the
lady in rich attire, not more picturesque than the country

girl; the beggar, and the monk, on their knees, mut-
tering their prayers. In the family pew of the Reformed
Church there may be as holy a frame of mind, but never
the expression of those wrapt and solitary figures, whom
we see prostrate on the bare stones in the solemn light of
these churches. But my object was to advert to their
inaudible mutterings, in which the amount of expression
capable of being thrown into the lips during speech, may
be well observed. Nor can a stranger go from the church
to the picture-galleries, and mistake for a moment where
the great painters found their studies, where they gained
those conceptions of devotion, of enthusiasm and abandon-
ment, which we see in the portraits of their samts and
martyrs.*

* «St. Siro, Genoa. It is a new thing to see those beggars crawling
on the stairs. There is one who, lying on his belly, drags himself along
with a short stick; the precise figure that is in the cartoons of Raphael.
They are squalid, distorted, and strange. One fellow among them I
should have in my sketch-book. He is on his knees, and, whilst
receiving a soldo from a very poor and very old woman, counts his
beads, and crosses himself, with an indifference that hardly can be real.
In entering a church in health, and the enjoyment of life, to step
through amongst the ‘ poveri’ is no bad preparation. It is impossible
to witness the countryman, whose coarse dress marks the lowness of his
condition,— to see him apart, in an obscure aisle, cast down, and in
prayer, with such perfect abstraction and abandonment, without the
words of the publican being suggested, ‘ God be merciful to me a
sinner’ In this respect, amidst all the blazon and show of worship
which belong to the Roman Catholic, it is still the church of the poor.
There is no respect for rank or condition within the precincts of a place
of worship.” — Note from Journal.

ESSAY V.

OF THE EXPRESSION OF PASSION, AS ILLUSTRATED BY A
COMPARISON OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE IN MAN AND
IN ANIMALS 5; AND OF THE MUSCLES PECULIAR TO MAN,
AND THEIR EFFECTS IN BESTOWING HUMAN EXPRESSION.

Tue violent passions are exhibited so distinctly in the
countenance of both man and animals, that we are led to
consider the movements by which they are made obvious,

as characteristic signs provided by nature for the express
purpose of intimating the inward emotions: that they may
be interpreted by a peculiar and intuitive faculty in the
observer.

This view, however, so natural at first, is not altogether
satisfactory ; and an opposite theory has been proposed, in
which such special provision is denied, and the appearances
are accounted for, as the effect of certain actions which are
performed in obedience to the common laws of the animal
economy. It is also said, that we are taught by experience
alone, to distinguish the signs of the passions in man: that
in infancy we learn that smiles are expressive of kindness,
because accompanied by endearments, and that frowns are
the reverse, because they are followed by blows. The
expression of anger in a brute is alleged to be merely the

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS. 121

cast of features which precedes his biting; and the cha-
racter of fondness, that which is seen in his fawning and
licking of the hand. In short, it has been maintained that
what are called the external signs of passion, are only the
concomitants of those voluntary movements which the
structure renders necessary. ‘That, for example, the glare
of the lion’s eye proceeds from his effort to see his prey
more clearly ; and his grin or snarl from the natural act
of unsheathing his fangs before using them.

But, if we attend to the evidence of anatomical investi-
gation, we shall perceive a remarkable difference between
the provision for giving motion to the features in ani-
mals, and that for bestowing expression in man. In the )
lower creatures, there is no expression, but what may be |
referred, more or less plainly, to their acts of volition, or
necessary instincts; while im man there seems to be a™
special apparatus, for the purpose of enabling him to
communicate with his fellow-creatures, by that natural
language, which is read in the changes of his countenance.
There exist in his face, not only all those parts, which
by their action produce expression in the several classes
of quadrupeds, but there is added a peculiar set of
muscles to which no other office can be assigned than to

serve for expression.

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS.

In brutes the most marked expression is that of rage ;
the object of which is opposition, resistance, and defence.
But on examination it will be found that the force of the

122 OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS.

expression is in proportion to the strength of the principal
action in the creature when thus excited.

The graminivorous animals, which seek their sub-
sistence, not by preying upon others, or by the ferocity,
contest, and victory, which supply the carnivorous with
food, have in their features no strong expression of rage;
it is chiefly confined to the effect produced on the general
system. Thus the inflamed eye and the breathing nostrils
of the bull are induced by the excitement of the whole
frame; his only proper expression of rage is in the po-
sition of the head, with the horns turned obliquely to the
ground, ready to strike; and indeed it may be observed,
that animals which strike with the horns shew little
indication either of fear or rage, except in the position
of the head; for the breath ejected from the expanded
nostril is the effect of mere exertion, and may belong
to different conditions of the frame. In all gramini-
vorous animals, the skin of the head is closely attached
to the skull, and capable of very limited motion: the
eye is almost uniformly mild, and the lips are unmoved
by passion.

It is in the carnivorous animals, with whose habits and
manner of life ferocity is instinctively connected, as suited
to their mode of subsistence, that rage is distinguished
by remarkable strength of expression. The eyeball is
terrible, and the retraction of the flesh of the lips indicates
the most savage fury. The action of the respiratory organs,
the heaving and agony of breathing, the deep and harsh
motion of the air drawn through the throat in the growl,
declare the universal excitement of the animal. It is

wrong to imagine that all this is a mere preparatory ex-
posure of the canine teeth. Brutes may have expression,

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS. 123

properly so called, as well as man, though in a more limited
degree; but in them, expression is so moulded to their
natures and their necessities, that it seems accessory to
their needful and voluntary actions.

The horse is universally held to be a noble animal, as
he possesses the expression of courage, without the fero-
ciousness of the beast of prey; and as there is a consent
between the motions of the ear and the eye, which resembles
the exertion of mind, and the movements of the human
countenance. But even this expression is the result of an
incidental consent of animal motions; and no more proves
intelligence, than the diminutive eye and the unexpressive
face of the elephant denote the contrary. We admire it,
because there is as much animation as in the tiger, without
the ferocity. The consent of motions between the eye and the
ear of the horse is a physical consequence of the necessities
of the animal. His defence lies in the hind feet, and there
is an arrangement both in the muscles, and in the form of
the skull, for that retroverted_direction of the eye, which
seems so expressive in the horse, but which merely serves
to guide the blow. The inflation of the nostrils, and the
fleshiness of the lips, belong to the peculiar provision for
his respiration and mode of feeding.

The head of a lion is taken to shew the muscular
apparatus of a carnivorous animal. .
aA. The circular fibres, which surround the eyelids,

and which are common to all animals.
pcp. Accessory muscles, which draw back the eyelids
from the eyeball, and give a sparkling fierceness to the eye.
Artists bestow an expression on the eye of the lion
which they suppose gives dignity—-a kind of knitting of
the eyebrows, whilst the eyelids are straining wide. ‘This
P

124 OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS.

is quite incompatible with the powers of expression in
brutes. When the lion closes his eyes in repose, the
fleshiness about the eyelids and the hair of the skin pro-
duce the effect of a morose human expression, but when he
is excited, and the eye is fixed, there is no such character.

EF. The mass of muscular fibres, with those concealed
under them, are very strong in this class of animals.

They raise and expose the teeth, with the savage expression
peculiar to the carnivora.
c. The muscles which move the nostril in smelling.

yu. A muscle which answers to the zygomaticus in
man, and which must have great power in this animal, as
it reaches from the ear to the angle of the mouth. It
opens the mouth, retracts the lips, and disengages them
from the teeth, as in seizing their prey.

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS. 1@

1. The buccinator muscle.

K. Insertion of part of the masseter muscle, one of the
powerful muscles that close the jaws.

I observed above, that some painters have thought it
allowable to give human expression to the heads of lions,
and others have presented it in their heads of horses.
I think this is done on a mistaken view, and that it
will never enhance the peculiar beauty of any animal to
engraft upon it some part of human expression. Rubens,
in his picture of Daniel in the lions? den, has given this
character to the heads of the lions. It is more than
doubtful, whether it be in the true spirit of that principle
of association which should govern the adaptation of
expression and character in producing an ideal form,
thus to mingle human expression with the features of the
Savage animals. It seems, however, that a distinction is
to be made when the lion is represented in its natural
state, and when sculptured emblematically. Represented
in his den, or in the forest, the picture should possess
all the natural character ; when couched amidst the
insignia of empire, there may be a difference.

A horse’s head is added in illustration ; it is taken
from Giulio Romano. The painter has here produced an
ideal head: we say that it is a horse rather on account
of the bridle in the mouth than because we recognise
the natural character of that animal. Instead of the full
clear eye standing prominent upon the temple, there is an
eye sunk deep, with an overhanging eyebrow; the cha-
racter entirely human, and the expression thoughtful and
Suspicious. In the hair of the forehead, and in the ears, in
the roundness of the head and neck, the artist has pre-
ferred the model of the antique to what, in this Instance,
we must consider to be the finer forms of nature. Here

a ES, we SrnaeNNNNA A eeircsccet os aero

Sn ea a NNR

Sain

126 OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS.

are the nostrils of the horse, but they want expansion ;
and there are thick and fleshy lips, with an open mouth,
which no power of association can ever teach us to admire.

There is a spirit in the expanded nostril, a fire in the
eye, a kind of intelligence in the horse’s head taken
altogether; there is a beauty in the form of the neck, and
an ease and grandeur in the carriage of the head, where
strength and freedom are combined, which cannot be
excelled by the substitution of an ideal form. No doubt
the painter in this instance wished to avoid that com-
monness of form, which represses sentiment in the be-

holder, and destroys the poetical effect of a picture ;

but it is attempted at the expense of truth of cha-
racter. In the utmost excitement, animals of this class do
not open the mouth; they cannot breathe through the
| mouth,—a valve in the throat prevents it,—so that ani-
mation is exhibited only in the nostril and the eye. The
open mouth is from the checking of the bit between the

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS. {27

teeth, and is never seen when the horse is untrammelled
and free.

Such were the opinions delivered in the first edition of
this work, and they were drawn from observation of
nature, on which I always rest with absolute reliance.
Smee that time, the Elgin collection of sculptures has
arrived. ‘These remains of antiquity are of great value to
the arts of this country; as they obviously tend to turn the
artist’s attention to nature, and exhibit to him the con-
sistency of natural form and beauty. The horses’ heads in
that collection are perfectly natural, and if there be ex-
aggeration, it is only in the stronger marking of that
which is the characteristic distinction of the animal.

The next drawing represents the muscles of the horse’s

head.
A A. The orbicular muscle of the eyelids.

B. An accessory muscle to raise the eyelid.

c. A very peculiar muscle. It pulls down the eyelid.

p. A muscle connected also with the eye, and arising
from the cartilages of the ear.

gr. A muscle answering to the zygomatic muscle in

man.

These muscles, surrounding the eyelids of the horse,
account for the superior expression of the eye. The
muscle p seems calculated to operate upon the outer
angle of the eyelids, and to enable the animal to direct
the eye backwards; in this it is probably assisted by the
muscle E. :

F. This forms a class of muscles which descend on the
side of the face, and are inserted into the nostril.

c«. Muscular fibres, also operating in the distension
of the tube of the nostril.

128 OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS.

u. A strong muscle, which acts upon the cartilage, and
distends the nostril with great power.

There is something in the distribution of these muscles
which illustrates the character of the class, and accounts
for the peculiarity of expression. We cannot fail to ob-
serve the difference in the general direction and classing
of the muscles of the face in the horse and in the lon.
In the carnivorous animal, they all tend to lift the lips
from the canine teeth, so that they cannot act without
shewing the teeth, with a snarling expression: in the

graminivorous animal, on the contrary, muscles, having
the same place and origin, pass to the cartilages of the

OF EXPRESSION IN ANIMALS. 129

nose, and inflate it the instant they are excited. It is
these muscles, therefore, more than any thing else, which
produce the very different character and expression in the
two classes of animals, |

11%. A strong muscle, which lies under that of the
nostril r. Its tendon passes forward over the nose, and
unites with its fellow of the other side. These together
form a broad tendon x, which is inserted into the upper
lip. There is a similar muscle moving the lower lip,
which cannot be seen in this view.

um. The circular fibres of the lips, which in the horse
are particularly strong and fleshy.

n. A web of muscle, which is extended from the cuta-
neous muscle of the neck.

The last-named muscles have all great power, and
give extensive motion to the lips. They take a course
over the nose in a manner quite peculiar to this class
of animals, to raise and project the upper lip, as in
gathering food. Any one who feeds his horse from his
hand may feel the singular sensitiveness and mobility of
his lips.

Looking to these muscles, and contrasting them with
the animated sketch by Mr. Northcote, we cannot fail to
see how much the form of the head depends upon the
teeth being small in front, and large and deep-set at the
back part of the jaw; how much the peculiarity of ex-
pression in the animal is owing to its breathing through
the nostril, and not through the mouth, and to its brilliant
eye being placed on the utmost projection of the head, so
that, by the slightest turn of the pliant neck, it may be
directed backward. Finally, we perceive how the muscles
are adapted to draw back the eyelids, to expand the
nostrils, and project the lips from the incisor teeth, and

ing
ion,

3

als, and consider

in anim

able difference between the

nd
ds from necessity or voluntary act

F MAN.

O

F ANIMALS COMPARED WITH THOSE

O

ES
t procee

oe
i 3
fz lezen:
tee,

10n 1 Man a

&é
J
<
=
Z
<
i
©
op)
<2)
red
‘S)
WM
pe)
=
ica]
an)
BR
is]
ae)

1

Ries
Sraacety Sa
Booey

Pi

Seay)
EPA are hires
os

Referring to the remark

OF THE MUSCL
range of express

also to place the food under the operation of the grinding
that in brutes

teeth.

SR a A mee te a NE

ee ee

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 131

while in man there is a special provision for bestowing it,—

a peculiar set of muscles to which no other office can be
assigned, it is proper to reduce the muscles of several
quadrupeds into classes, that we may distinguish the
characteristics of mere animal expression from those in
man.

They may be distinguished as, 1st, Those which raise
the lips from the teeth; 2d. Those which surround the
eyelids; and 3d. Those which move the nostrils.

1. The first- of these classes; viz. the muscles which
raise the lips from the teeth, admit of a subdivision. In
the carnivorous animal the muscles of the lips are so
directed as to raise the lip from the canine teeth. In the
graminivorous they are directed so as to raise the lips
from the incisor teeth. ‘The former I would distinguish by
the name ringentes, snarling muscles: the latter by the
name depascentes, muscles simply for feeding.

The snarling muscles arise from the margin of the
orbit, and from the upper jaw; they are inserted into that
part of the upper lip from which the moustaches grow,
and which is opposite to the canine teeth. ‘Fheir sole
office is to raise the upper lip from the canine teeth ;
and although they are assisted in this by others (the
masticating muscles), I have ventured to distinguish them
particularly as the muscles of snarling. This action of
snarling is quite peculiar to the ferocious and carnivorous
animals. The graminivorous are incapable of it, and con-
sequently these muscles are to be found largely developed
only in the former class, not in the latter. In the car-
nivorous animals it can scarcely be said that there is a
perfect or regular orbicular muscle, as in man, for con-
tracting the lips; the lips hang loose and relaxed, unless
when drawn aside by the snarling muscles, and they fall

ag OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS.

back into this state of relaxation, with the remission of the
action of these muscles.

The chief muscles of the lips, which in carnivorous
animals are directed to the side of the mouth, are, in
" graminivorous animals, directed to the middle of the lip over
the front teeth. I call them depascentes, from their use,
which is to enable the creature to open its lips so as to
gather food, and to bite the grass. They are long
muscles; one set come down upon each side of the face,
and joining in a broad tendon, pass over the nose to be
inserted into the upper lip. Another set run along the
lower jaw, to be inserted by a peculiar feathered tendon
into the under lip. These muscles are very strong in the
horse. ‘They give a peculiar and characteristic expression
to the. stallion, when he snuffs the breeze, with his head
high in air; when he bites, the expression is entirely
different from that of the carnivorous animal; instead of
exposing the teeth corresponding with the canine, he lifts
the lips from the fore teeth, and protrudes them. The
carnivorous animals have not these muscles of the fore part
of the lip; in them the lips covering the incisor teeth are
not fleshy like those of the graminivorous animals, but
are tied down to the gums, and the fore teeth are ex-
posed only in consequence of the straining occasioned by
retraction of the side of the mouth.

Although the graminivorous animals do not possess
those muscles which so powerfully retract the lips in the
carnivorous class, they have a more perfect orbicular
muscle surrounding the mouth, and regulating the motion
of their fleshy lips.

2. Muscles which surround the eyelid.—In man, the
upper eyelid is raised by a muscle coming from the back
of the orbit. But animals of prey, in whose eyes there is

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 130

the peculiar and ferocious splendour, which distinguishes
the tiger or the lion, have, in addition to this muscle,
three others attached to the eyelids, which, stretching the
coats and drawing the eyelids backward upon the pro- |
minent eyeball, produce a fixed straining of the eye, and
a greater brightness. These muscles I have termed scintil-
lantes, because by retracting the eyelids, they expose
the brilliant white of the eye, which reflects a sparkling
light. In the sheep, besides the proper muscle coming
from the bottom of the orbit, there is only a web of
fibres to assist in raising the eyelid. In the horse, there
is a muscle to pull down the lower eyelid; and another,
which, passing from the ear to the outer angle of the
eyelid, retracts it, and enables the animal to direct the
pupil backward, where his defence lies. In the -feline
tribe light is reflected from the bottom of the eye, when
the pupil is*dilated; and as the pupil dilates in obscure
light, there is a brilliant reflection from the cat’s eye,
which we mistake for indication of passion. All these
may be partially displayed in the human eye, as in the
bloodshot redness combined with the circle of reflected
light from the margin of the cornea, like a flame or angry
spark, as Charon is described by Dante,—

“ Ch’ intorno agli occhi avea di fiamme ruote,”
Or as lighted charcoal, from the bottom of the eye,—

“Caron demonio con occhi di bragia.”

It is in this way that a touch of true expression will
illustrate a whole passage; so Milton,

‘‘ With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed.” *

* So also Spenser, B. vi. cant. 7, stanza 42.

eo a A oS TAM RRA RN RONEN TO LT ATTEN L RT RCT Ae
== = : a ee fae een A a em mr

134 OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS.

8. Muscles of the Nostrils. — These are not less dis-
tinct and peculiar, in different classes of animals, than the
muscles of the eye and lips. In the carnivorous animals,
the nose is comparatively insignificant, provision being
made in the open mouth for any occasional increase of
respiration above the uniform play of the lungs; while in
the inoffensive animals, which are the prey of the more
ferocious, the inflation of the nostril is provided for by the

action of another set of muscles. |
For example, in the horse “ the glory of whose nostrils
is terrible,” the muscles which inflate the nostril are very
peculiar. They arise like the ringentes; but instead of
being fixed into the lips, as in carnivorous animals, whose
lips are to be raised from the canine teeth, they pass to

the nostrils, and in combination with some lesser muscles,
powerfully inflate them when the animal is pushed to his
speed, excited by fear, or inflamed to rage.

In the gallery of Florence, there is the head of a horse
in bronze, and antique; it is very fine, and in all respects
as natural as those of the Elgin Marbles; the mouth is
open, but there is a bit in it.

Over the fountain, in the Piazza of the Grand Duke,
is placed a group of Neptune drawn by four horses ;
the mouths of all the horses are open, and as they are
free agents, without bit or harness, they seem to be of
one mind, and to be expressing the same thing, whatever
that may be. ‘They would have been much finer, had the
artist given them animation through the eye and. nostril,
without opening the mouth.*

The horse’s mouth is never seen open when the animal

* “Milan. The four horses in the triumphal arch have their mouths
gaping wide; not so the coursers last night in the Circus.’— Note from
Journal.

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 135

is free. Nothing can be finer than the action of a charger
in the field: but though he should snort and neigh and
throw up his head and mane, with all his excitement he
does not open his mouth. In the antiquities of Count
Caylus, the horse’s head is represented naturally.

We may notice here, that most of the carnivorous
animals hunt their prey. For this object, they not only
require a peculiar and extended organ of smelling, but the
air must be drawn forcibly over the surface on which the
olfactory nerve is spread. It appears to me, that this
~ accounts for their small confined nostril, and their breathing
freely through the mouth. In smelling, an action of the
nostrils takes place which directs the stream of air up-
wards into the cells of the nose, where the olfactory nerve
is distributed. ‘This is especially the case in the con-
formation of the dog’s nostrils.

Returning now to the muscles in the human counte-
nance, we perceive that, although the motions of the lips
and nostrils in man may not be so extensive as in other
classes of animals, there is in his face a capacity for all the
varieties of expression which distinguish these creatures.
He stands, as we have said, between the carnivorous and
graminivorous animals; or, rather, he partakes the nature
of both. He has the snarling muscles which so peculiarly
distinguish the carnivorous class, while he is able to
protrude the lips, and uncover the teeth, like the grami-
nivorous. We have seen that in the carnivorous animals,
the muscles descending from the cheek-bones and upper
jaw to raise the lip are strong, and that the orbicular or
circular fibres of the mouth are feeble, the lip being
attached to the fore part of the gums. In the grami-
nivorous animals, on the contrary, the orbicular muscle
has great power; while the elevating and depressing —

eee CSC ce a eeneeeeennenemenmmnnmeneesieeaebeicieameammmmembianl

136 OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS.

muscles of the side of the mouth are weak. But in man,
both classes of muscles are combined; the elevating and
depressing muscles are fully developed, while the orbicular
muscle completely antagonises them, modulating and qua-
lifying their actions, and bestowing the utmost ——
on the motions of the lips.

Whether we look to the form of the features or to their
power of expression, the consideration of these two classes
of muscles alone will account for certain varieties in the
human face. In one man, the excitement of passion
may be indicated chiefly by the prevalence of one class,
while in a second, another class will predominate in the
expression.

If it be allowable to give examples, I would say that
in the countenance of Mrs. Siddons or Mr. John Kemble,
there was presented the highest character of beauty which
belongs to the true English face. In that family the
upper lip and nostrils were very expressive: the class
of muscles which operate on the nostrils was especially
powerful, and both these great tragedians had a remark-
able capacity for the expression of the nobler passions.
In their cast of features there was never seen that blood-
thirsty look which Cooke could throw into his face. In
him, the ringentes prevailed : and what determined hate
could he express, when, combined with the oblique cast
of his eyes, he drew up the outer part of the upper lip,
and disclosed a sharp angular tooth! And is it not this
lateral drawing of the lips, and stretching them upon the
closed teeth, which make the blood start from them, in
remorseless hate and rancour?

But besides the muscles analogous to those of brutes,
others are introduced into the human face, which indicate
emotions and sympathies of which the lower animals are

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 137

not susceptible; and as they are peculiar to man, they may
be considered as the index of mental energy, in opposition
to mere animal expression.

The most moveable and expressive features are the
inner extremity of the eyebrow and the angle of the
mouth; and these are precisely the parts which have
least expression in brutes; for they have no eyebrows, and
no power of elevating or depressing the angle of the

mouth. It is therefore in these features that we should f

expect to find the muscles of expression peculiar to man.
The most remarkable muscle of the human face is the
corrugator supercilii (p, fig., p. 99), arising from the frontal
bone, near its union with the nasal bones, and inserted
into the skin of the eyebrow; it knits the eyebrows with
an energetic effect, which unaccountably, but oon
conveys the idea of mind. 7

The frontal portion of the occipito- decuae muscle (A, .

fig., p. 99), is the antagonist of the orbicular muscle of the
eyelids. It is wanting in the animals which we have
examined ; and in its stead, fibres, more or less strong, are
found to be inserted directly into the eyelids.

The motion of the features which, next to that pro-
duced by the corrugator supercilii, is most expressive of
human passion and sentiment, is to be seen in the angle of
the mouth. At one time I conceived that this distinctive

expression was chiefly owing to the superbus (1, fig., {
p. 109), which elevates and protrudes the under lip, but I
was deceived. ‘The character of human expression in the |
mouth is given by the ériangularis oris, or depressor |
anguli oris (x, fig., p. 109), a muscle which I have not /

found in any of the lower animals; I believe it to be

peculiar to man, and I can assign no other use for it than

that which belongs to expression. It arises from the base
Q

pensar ees

pie)
Pig eer sree en

Sa a oe

138 OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS.

of the lower jaw, and passes up to be inserted, with the
converging fibres of almost all the muscles of the side of
the face, into the corner of the mouth: it produces that
arching of the lip so expressive of contempt, hatred,
jealousy ; and in combination with the elevator of the
under lip, or superbus, and the orbicularis, it has a larger
share than any other muscle in producing the infinite variety
of motions in the mouth, expressive of sentiment.

When we compare the muscles of the human head with
those of animals, we perceive many smaller distinctions,
which I shall not at present discuss. The depressor ale
nasi (D, fig., p. 107), the nasalis labi superioris (3, fic.,
p- 109), the anterior fibres of the occipito-frontalis (a, fig.,
p- 99), are not found in the brute; and in general, the more
minute and fasciculated structure of all the muscles of the
lips, in the face of man, shews a decided superiority in the
‘provision for motion of the features.

We have already observed, that the rash of animals
seem chiefly capable of expressing rage and fear; even
pain is indicated more in the voice, and in writhing and
struggling.

The rage of the graminivorous animal is chiefly visible
in the eye, in the inflation of the nostril, and in the dis-
turbed state of the body. It is expressed most strongly
by the carnivorous animals : in them it is wild, ferocious,
and terrifying. Their expression of rage, so far as it
appears in the face, is shewn by the strong action of the
ringentes, or snarling muscles, the exposure of the canine
teeth, the gnashing of the tusks, and the brilliant excite-

ment of the eye. ‘The expression of human rage partakes
of both ; the corresponding muscles of the lips and nostrils
producing a similar action to that in animals; an ex-
posure and clenching of the teeth; a degree of sparkling

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 139

of the eye, and an inflation of the nostrils. Of a face
under the influence of such actions, a spectator would
infallibly say, that the aspect was brutal, savage, and
cruel. But when the corrugator supercilu, a muscle pe-
culiar to human expression, is brought into action, the
sign is altered. The eyebrows are knit, the energy of
mind is apparent, and there is the mingling of thought
and emotion with the savage and brutal rage of the mere
animal.

In man, the actions of the frontal muscle, of the cor-
rugator supercilii, and of the orbicular muscle of the mouth,
give much expression. If instead of the retraction of the
lips and the exposure of the teeth, as in the rage or pain
of animals, the mouth is half closed, the lips inflected by
the circular fibres, and drawn down by the action of the
peculiarly human muscle, the depressor anguli orisy then
there is expressed more agony of mind than of meré bodily
suffering, by a combination of muscular actions of which
animals are incapable.

The action of the orbicular muscle of the lips is, indeed,
the most characteristic of agony of mind, and of all those
passions which partake of sentiment; in grief, in vexation
of spirit, in weeping, it modifies the effect of the muscles
of animal expression, and produces human character.

Fear is characterised in animals by a mingling of anger,
and of preparation for defence, with a shrinking of alarm
in the more ferocious, and a straining of the eye and
inflation of the nostril, with trembling, in the milder. In |
human fear and suspicion, the nostril is inflated, and the
eye has that backward, jealous, and timid character which
we see in the horse, and in the gentler classes of animals.

The orbicular muscle of the lips, with the system of
elevating and depressing muscles in man, lead to expressions

140 OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS.

peculiarly human. And here I may observe, that ex-
pression is not always the effect of a contraction of the
muscles of the face, either general or partial. It proceeds
rather from a combined action of the muscles when under
passion: for it is often the relaxation of a certain class,
more than their excitement, which gives expression ; and
of this, smiling and laughter furnish the most apposite
examples.

The capacity of receiving ludicrous ideas is as com-
pletely denied to animals as they are utterly incapable of
the accompanying action of laughter. Dogs, in their
‘expression of fondness, have a slight eversion of the lips,
‘and grin and snuff amidst their frolic and gambols, in a
| way that resembles laughter; but in all this there is
nothing which truly approaches to human expression.
That is produced by the relaxation of the orbicular muscle
of the lips, and the consequent preponderating action of
the elevating muscles; and, of course, it can exist only in
a face which possesses both the orbicular and the straight
muscles of the lips in perfection.

In the emotions of contempt, pride, suspicion, and
jealousy, the orbicular muscle and the triangularis oris,
produce by their combination the arching of the lips, and
the depression of the angle of the mouth. The hori-
zontal drawing of the lips which just discloses the teeth,
and betrays the severe or bitter and malignant passions, is
owing to a more general action of the muscles overcoming
the opposition of the orbicularis.

In grief, the muscles of the eyebrow and those of the
lips are combined in expression; hence the union of that
upward direction of the extremity of the eyebrow charac-
terising peevishness, discontent, and sinking of the spirits,

with the depression of the angle of the mouth, which so

OF THE MUSCLES OF ANIMALS. 141

distinctly indicates the harassed and subdued state of
mind.

By the combination of those muscles of expression,
much of that various play of the features expressive of
human passions, as joy, hope, admiration, anxiety, fear,
horror, despair, is produced ; and thus, while the human
countenance is capable of expressing both the rage of the
more ferocious animals, and the timidity of the milder, it
possesses, by the consentaneous action of a few superadded
muscles, powers of expression varying almost to infinity.

It is curious to observe how the muscles thus afford a
new occasion of distinguishing the classes of animals; and
how, as signs of superior intelligence, they give proofs of
the endowments of man, and the excellence of his nature.
The full clear eye; the arched and moveable eyebrow;
the smooth and polished forehead; as indicating suscepti-
bility of emotion, and power of expression, are grand
features of human character and beauty; and it is the
perfection of beauty when the spectator is made sensible
of this inherent, this latent power, even while no pre-
vailing passion affects the features. But a great portion
of the beauty of the human face is in the nose and the
mouth; in a nostril which has a capacity for expression,
without being too membranous and inflatable, for that
produces a mean and imbecile kind of fierceness ; and
in lips, at once full and capable of those various modula-
tions of form which are necessary to speech and the

indication of human feeling.

ESSAY VI.

“ Grief laments the absence, and fear apprehends the loss of what
we love; desire pursues it; hope has it in view; and joy triumphs in
possession.” *

OF EXPRESSION (CONTINUED).

We advance to the interesting subject of variable ex-
pression in the human face. It is by the habit of ex-
pression that the countenance is improved or degraded,
and that the characters of virtue or vice are imprinted.
If hardship, misfortune, care, and, still more, vice, are
there habitually impressed, then all that we admire is
lost.

Peace, comfort, society, and agreeable studies, preserve
the features mobile, and ready to conform, as an index of
the mind, to the sentiments we love. Petrarch, Boccaccio,
and Dante, dwell on the expression of their mistresses.t

* Heylin, vol. i. p. 5.

+ “ Pot guardo lamorosa e bella bocca—
La spaziosa fronte, e il vago piglio
Li bianchi denti, e il dritto naso, e il ciglio
Polito e brun tal che depinto pare.”—— DAnTE.

* Soave va a guisa di un bel pavone.”

Decamerone Giornata, iv.

OF EXPRESSION. 143

Addison has justly said, “No woman can be handsome ~
by the force of features alone, any more than she can be
witty only by the help of speech.”

The form of the face and the features are but the
groundwork of expression. The influence of passion on
the body is a subject which has been discussed from the
first dawnings of philosophy. ‘The Greeks did not confine
their study to the outward form of man; they also spe-
culated on the habit of the body as affecting the mind:
and we insensibly use their language, although the course
of their ideas may be rejected or forgotten. ‘There are va-
rieties in the forms, strength, temper, and capacities of man.
It has been well said, that you cannot tread on a man’s
toe without learning something of his temper. One man
will have his joke, although it may hurt his dearest friend,
and another has so little imagination, that even in the
delirium of fever he is dull. Some are generous to
profligacy, or frugal to meanness, or gallant and true, or
cowardly and insincere: these varieties are a part of
human nature, and necessary to the constitution of society.
But the ingenious reasoners of Ancient Greece ascribed.
the diversity of disposition to the texture of the frame ;
not to the features, nor to the proportions or shape of the
skull, but rather to the mixture of the elements of the
body; and more to the fluids than to the solids. Those
distinctions, familiar to all, have in every succeeding age
been attributed to the humours. When we speak of the
constitution, the temper, the humour of a man, we are in
truth adopting the language of Hippocrates, who treated
of the four radical humours,—the sanguineous, phlegmatic,
choleric, and melancholic.

Other philosophers have imagined that the disposi-
tions of man might have their source in his greater or less

144 OF EXPRESSION.

resemblance to the brutes. It was then allowable to fancy
that a lion-like frame, strong hair, deep voice, and pow-
erful limbs, were combined with courage. But our heroes
are not of that mould. ‘To be collected amidst fire and
smoke, and the deafening sounds of battle — to marshal
thousands — or to direct the vessel’s course, whilst exposed

not only to wounds but to death, is true courage; and, in
these days, it is witnessed in the pale and fragile, more
than in the strong and sanguineous, or the bulky and
hairy savage. We can better estimate true courage since
combatants have been divested of the helmet and mail.*

That the features indicate the disposition by resem-
bling those of animals, is an unjust and dangerous theory.
The comparison which we have made of the human form
and features with those of certain classes of animals, is
very different from those speculations which would lead
us to condemn a man because of some resemblance in face
to a brute.t

Notwithstanding the attraction of the engravings in
Lavater’s work, the study of physiognomy is now aban-
doned for that of the cranium. But I must repeat,

* Sir G. N., in the assault of » killed his opponent. “The
soldier thrust at me with his bayonet. I parried, and passed my sword
through his body. In withdrawing it, I experienced a sensation which
will only leave me with life.” A kindred spirit expresses himself well.
‘‘*The modern soldier is not the stern, bloody-handed man the ancient
soldier was;” the ancient warrior, fighting with the sword, and reaping
the harvest of death when the enemy was in flight, became habituated to
the art of slaying. “The modern soldier sees not his peculiar victims fall,
and exults not over them as proof of personal prowess.” Homer repre-
sents Achilles as driving over the dead, till his chariot-wheels are dyed
in blood. ,

+ This was the theory of Giambatista Porta, in his “‘ Humana Phy-
siognomia.” He was equally successful in detecting the qualities of
plants by their resemblance to animals.

OF EXPRESSION. 145

that the brain and the skull are constructed in strict
relation,— a perfect brain and a perfect skull are formed
together. And what is the perfection of the skull? The
cranium is as a helmet, constituted for the protection
of the brain; and if so, must it not be adapted to the
forces it has to sustain or resist? ‘The skull is most
perfect when its forms indicate the best possible provision
for its peculiar use, the defence of the brain.

Let us attend more especially to the human passions.
I do not mean to treat of all those conditions of mind
which are considered under the head of the passions,
sentiments, or emotions; but to limit my inquiry to that
kind or degree of mental excitement, which draws the
frame into action, and which is interpreted by its agi-
tation; when the spirits, by their vehemence, produce
uncontrollable movements of the body, not determined by
the will, but spontaneously arising with the state of feeling,
which they strengthen and direct.*

We shall begin, by marking the most extreme expres-
sion of the passions,— laughter and weeping. They suit

our purpose as being peculiarly human, arising from senti-

ments not participated by the brutes.

It is vain to inquire into the sources of these emotions ;
but I hope my reader consents to believe that the capacity
of expression is bestowed as a boon, a mark of superior
intelligence, and a source of enjoyment; and that its very
nature is to excite sympathy; that it radiates, and is un-
derstood by all; that it is the bond of the human family.

* Were we not to limit our inquiry to the agitations of the body, we
should be embarrassed with the ambiguity of such words as passion,
emotion, desire, inclination, appetite, the generous passions, the pas-
sion of pride or of avarice; even the mere state of suffering is called
passion.

146

LAUGHTER.

al
le{

EES BI ne

We have seen that the muscles which operate upon the
mouth are distinguishable into two classes, — those which
surround and control the lips, and those which oppose
them, and draw the mouth widely open. ‘The effect of a

ludicrous idea is to relax the former, and to contract the
latter; hence, by a lateral stretching of the mouth, and a
raising of the cheek to the lower eyelid, a smile is pro-
duced. ‘The lips are, of all the features, the most sus-

ceptible of action, and the most direct index of the feelings.

LAUGHTER. 147

If the idea be exceedingly ridiculous, it is in vain that
we endeavour to restrain this relaxation, and to compress
the lips. The muscles concentring to the mouth prevail ;
they become more and more influenced; they retract the
lips, and display the teeth. The cheeks are more power-
fully drawn up, the eyelids wrinkled, and the eye almost
concealed. The lacrymal gland within the orbit is com- ,
pressed by the pressure on the eyeball, and the eyes |
suffused with tears. |

Simple and passive pleasures, the delight of meeting or
the contemplation of innocence, relax the lips and dimple
the cheek, whilst the eyes are bright and intelligent. ‘The
dimple is formed by the muscles which are inserted in the
angle of the mouth acting on the plump integument of
infancy and youth.

Observe the condition of a man convulsed with laughter,
and consider what are the organs or system of parts affected.
He draws a full breath, and throws it out in interrupted, |
short, and audible cachinnations; the muscles of his throat, |
neck, and chest, are agitated; the diaphragm is especially |
convulsed. He holds his sides, and, from the violent agita-
tion, he is incapable of a voluntary act.

It is impossible to avoid the conclusion, that it is the
respiratory organs and their muscles which are affected
during the paroxysm of laughter. Physiologists, in all
former times, attributed the line of sympathetic relations
which draw these remote parts into action, to a nerve called
the sympathetic. But I have proved, that there is a
machinery altogether distinct; and that the expression,
not only of this, but of all the other passions, arises from
that system of nerves, which, from their great office, I have ;
called respiratory.

The respiratory nerves spring from a common centre

148 WEEPING.

in the medulla oblongata,* and pass off divergingly to all
the parts just enumerated, and to every organ employed
in respiration. ‘They combine these distant parts in the
ordinary action of breathing; and they are the agents in
all the effects of passion, when these organs give the out-
ward signs of the condition of the mind.

WEEPING.+

i ‘

* The medulla oblongata is that part of the nervous system which is
traced from the brain into the tube of the spine; it is, consequently, the
upper part of the spinal marrow.

+ I have thrown the expression of weeping, from pain, into the face
of a Faun; for such expression is inexpressibly mean and ludicrous in
the countenance of a man.

WEEPING. 149

‘Weeping is another state of the features, proceeding, as
we have before observed, from sensibility; and, therefore,
human. Though the organs affected are the same as in
laughter, viz. the respiratory muscles, the expression is as
much opposed as the nature of the emotion which produces
it. Were the condition of the features the effect of mere )/
excitement, why should there be an association of the same |
class of muscles, so different from that in laughter? Is i
not this variety of expression a proof of design, and that
all our emotions are intended to have their appropriate
outward characters ?

According to Homer, the expression of weeping is not
confined to babes; Ulysses is made to feel that sensation
in his nose which precedes the shedding of tears.

The lacrymal glands are the first to be infected ; then
the eyelids; and finally, the whole converging muscles of
the cheeks. The lips are drawn aside, not from their
circular fibres relaxing, as in laughter, but from their bemg
forcibly retracted by the superior influence of their an-
tagonist muscles. Instead of the joyous elevation of the
cheeks, the muscle which pulls down the angle of the
mouth, ériangularis oris, 1s more under influence, and the
angle is depressed. The cheeks are thus drawn between
two adverse powers: the muscles which surround the eye-
lids, and that which depresses the lower lip.

The same cause which drew the diaphragm and muscles
of the chest into action in laughing, is perceived here.
The diaphragm is spasmodically and irregularly affected ;
the chest and throat are influenced ; the breathing is cut
by sobbing; the inspiration is hurried, and the expiration |
is slow with a melancholy note. In the violence of weep-|
ing, accompanied with lamentation, the face is flushed, or |

}
|

rather suffused by stagnant blood, and the veins of the |
R

150 WEEPING.

forehead distended. In this we see the effect of the
impeded action of the chest; a proof, not only that it is
the respiratory system of nerves which is affected, but also
of the condition of the heart, and its influence in respira-
tion, of which we have spoken in a former essay. This
expression of emotion may be introduced even in the
highest walks of art; but it requires great taste to pourtray
it without offensive exaggeration.*

The depression of the angle of the mouth gives an air
of despondence and langour when accompanied by a general
‘relaxation of the features, or, in other words, of the muscles.
When the corrugator which knits the brows co-operates
with it, there is mingled in the expression something of
mental energy, of moroseness, or pain. If the frontal
muscle adds its operation, there is an acute turning upwards
of the inner part of the eyebrow, characteristic of anguish,
debilitating pain, or of discontent, according to the pre-
vailing cast of the rest of the countenance.

But while languor and despondency are indicated by
depression of the angle of the mouth, the depression must
be slight, not violent: for the depressor angult orts cannot
act strongly without the combination of the levator menti

* «The finest possible example of this condition of suffering is in the
picture of Guercino (in the Gallery of Milan), the ‘ Departure of Hagar
and Ishmael.’ Those who have seen only the engraving can have little
conception of the beauty of the picture, for the perfection is in the
colouring. Hagar has been weeping; her eyes are red and swollen, but
not so as to destroy her beauty; she turns again on hearing Abraham
once more addressing her; she suspends her breath, you persuade your-
self that you hear her short convulsive sobs; for in the elevated shoulders
and in the form of the open lips, this is plainly indicated. The suffering
expressed in the condition of the chest, the misery in the forehead, and
the colouring of the eyelids, make this the finest example of expression
which I have seen.” —ote from Journal.

= ——————E—EEEEEE———————
ee LO I OL AR ST I a ae ee ET

WEEPING. 151

or superbus, which quickly produces a change in the
expression, by making the nether lip pout contemptuously.

In sorrow, a general languor pervades the whole coun-
tenance. ‘The violence and tension of grief, the lamenta-
tions, and the tumult, like all strong excitements, gradually

exhaust the frame. Sadness and regret, with depression of

spirits and fond recollections, succeed; and lassitude of
the whole body, with dejection of the face and heaviness of
the eyes, are the most striking characteristics. The lips
are relaxed and the lower jaw drops; the upper eyelid falls
and half covers the pupil of the eye. The eye is frequently
filled with tears, and the eyebrows take an inclination
similar to that which the depressors of the angles of the
lips give to the mouth.*

I am not quite sure that in the distress of Constance there
is not an unnatural mixture of the tumult and violence of
grief with the contemplative recollections of sorrow. Her
impatience and turbulence, which make her tear her hair,
defy all counsel and redress, and call on death or madness
as her sole relief, seem ill assorted with that calmness of
spirit which can stop to recollect and enumerate im detail
the figure and endearing manners of her son.

“ Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form:
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.

Fare you well! had you had such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.—

* Some have been so far deceived by the effect of this raising of the
eyebrows towards the centre of the forehead as to give the same oblique
line to the eyes; but the canthus or angle of the eye is fixed immoveably,
and no working of passion can alter it.

Me
J 1
|
Hayy
}1|
i
Hi
ii |
|
i}
}
i i
|i
1
i
|

(ee ee

WEEPING.

I will not keep this form upon my head [fearing off her head-dress. |
When there is such disorder in my wit.

O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!

My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!

My widow’s comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!” *

This appears rather to be the stage of the passion
which is called sorrow ; the indulgence of which is attended
with a melancholy delight which can sanction the con-
clusion, “‘ Then have I reason to be fond of griet.” Yet,
as conviction returns at intervals upon the mind, a period
of quiet and sorrowful resignation is succeeded by starts
and violent bursts of grief.

Though grief is in general distinguished by its violence,
lamentation, and tumult, while sorrow is silent, deep brood-
ing, and full of depression, there is a stupefaction which
sometimes characterises grief, “ the lethargy of woe.”

We have already had occasion to remark, that ex-
pressions, peculiarly human, chiefly affect the angle of the
mouth and the inner extremity of the eyebrow; and to
these points we must principally attend in all our observa-
tions concerning the expression of passion. ‘They are the
most moveable parts of the face; in them, the muscles con-
centre, and upon the changes which they undergo, expression
is acknowledged chiefly to depend. ‘To demonstrate their

importance, we have only to repeat the experiment made

by Peter of Cortona; to sketch a placid countenance, and
touch lightly with the pencil the angle of the lips and the
inner extremity of the eyebrows. By elevating or depress-
ing these, we shall quickly convey the expression of grief
or of laughter.
These parts, however, and all the features of an
ypassioned countenance, have an accordance with each

* King John, Act III. Scene 4.

TIS ws 8 —_ 7
St RT a A i se = ac EE a TE Se SE

WEEPING. 153

other. When the angles of the mouth are depressed in

grief, the eyebrows are not elevated at the outer angles as

in laughter. When a smile plays around the mouth, or
the cheek is raised in laughter, the brows are not rufiled
as in grief. The characters of such opposite passions are
so distinct, that they cannot be combined where there is
true and genuine emotion. When we see them combined,
it is by those who have an unnatural control over their
muscles, and the expression is farcical and ridiculous. It

is an unworthy conceit to give to one side of the face
comedy and to the other tragedy.

In the features of an impassioned countenance there is
a consent and accordance of expression. It is not upon a
single feature that the emotion operates; but the whole
face is marked with expression, all the movements of which
are consentaneous. ‘This is referable to some cause acting
generally on the tone and state of the frame: the peculiar
expression of individual emotion being distinguished by the
action and determination of certain features.

Taking indifference as the line of distinction between
the two great classes of pain and of pleasure, the sensa-
tions above this line are weak compared with those below
it. The simple sensations of pleasure, before they are
heightened and diversified by the multiplied associations of
mental affection, are soft and gentle in their nature. ‘The
class of painful sensations is powerful and overwhelming ;
they are meant as our guardians and protectors against
danger and death, and they operate with resistless force.
The pleasurable sensations induce a languor and delight,
partaking of the quality of indulgence and relaxation; the
painful excite to the most violent tension, and make the
muscular frame start into convulsive action.

The emotions and passions, grounded on these great

es inncne aap ite ett 8 CR NEN TRANSLA LLL E EL LOO

ee AE al Se
cae i ee a eS

154 WEEPING.

classes of sensation, raised and increased by the mingling
of hopes and fears, and the combination of analogous and
associated images of delight or of danger, derive their most
important traits of expression from the general tone of
pleasure or of pain.

In pain, the body is exerted to violent tension, and all
the emotions and passions allied to pain, or having their
origin and foundation in painful sensations, have this

general distinction of character, that there is an energetic
action or tremor, the effect of universal and great ex-
citement. It must at the same time be remembered, that
all the passions of this class, some more immediately, others

more indirectly, produce in the second stage exhaustion,
debility, and loss of tone, from over-exertion.

On the other hand, as pleasure is characterised by
languor, tranquillity, and relaxation, all the emotions re-
lated to it, or deducible from pleasurable sensations, are
felt in the prevailing state of the system—a degree of
inaction, and as it were forgetfulness of bodily exertion,
and an indulgence in mental contemplation.* ‘The con-
templation of beauty, or the admiration of soft music,
produces a sense of languor; the body reclines; the lips
are half opened; the eyes have a softened lustre from the
falling of the eyelids; the breathing is slow; and from

* « Here (Academia delle belle Arte, Bologna) are two pictures
which one naturally compares. On the one side is the St. Cecilia; on
the other, the Murder of the Innocents. In the St. Cecilia of Raphael,
in ecstasy, there is not only great beauty, but very fine expression.
She hears the music of angels; her face is turned upwards; the
features composed and fine. In the lower part of the face there is a
gentle relaxation, almost a smile; the eyes are directed upwards, but
the eyebrow is placid. She is so wrapt, that the pipes of the organ are
almost falling from the hands, which hang without exertion.

“In the picture of the Murder of the Innocents, by Guido Reni,
there is an admirable figure of a woman, wild and full of fire, who

WEEPING. 155

the absolute neglect of bodily sensation, and the temporary

interruption of respiration, there is a frequent low-drawn

sigh.

flies with her infant pressed to her bosom. But there is another, whose
face is in the very attitude of the Cecilia, yet how different! The
murder of her child has been perpetrated; the child lies dead before
her; she is on her knees; her hands are clasped, and she looks up to
heaven; her mouth is open, and all the features relaxed. The hair and
dress are deranged. What, then, is the difference in expression, for
there is a certain resemblance in the form and attitude of these heads?
What is the difference between the relaxation of despair and of enjoy-
ment: the relaxed jaw, and open mouth, and troubled forehead of the
one, — the softness and languor, with a certain firmness in the lips of the
other.” — Note from Journal.

ESSAY VII.

THE SUBJECT CONTINUED ;— OF PAIN — HORROR —
CONVULSIONS — DEMONIACS — DEATH.

Tue further we proceed in this inquiry the more
difficult and delicate does it become. In continuing the
subject, I shall rather indulge in detached remarks than
_ pretend to follow a regular course ; keeping, I hope, still

true to the observation of nature, and, as far as possible,

unprejudiced by theory.

Pain is affirmed to be unqualified evil; yet pain is
necessary to our existence; at birth, it rouses the dormant
faculties, and gives us consciousness. To imagine the
absence of pain, is not only to imagine a new state of
being, but a change in the earth, and all upon it. As
‘inhabitants of earth, and as a consequence of the great law
of gravitation, the human body must have weight. It
must have bones, as columns of support, and levers for the
action of its muscles; and this mechanical structure im-
plies a complication and delicacy of texture beyond our
conception. Tor that fine texture a sensibility to pain is
destined to be the protection; it is the safeguard of the
body; it makes us alive to those injuries which would
otherwise destroy us, and warns us to avoid them.

PAIN. 157

When, therefore, the philosopher asks why were not
our actions performed at the suggestions of pleasure, he
imagines man, not constituted as he is, but as if he
belonged to a world in which there was neither weight,
nor pressure, nor any thing injurious, where there were no
dangers to apprehend, no difficulties to overcome, and no
call for exertion, resolution, or courage. It would, indeed,
be a curious speculation to follow out the consequences on
the highest qualities of the mind, if we could suppose man
thus free from all bodily suffering.

158 PAIN.

But I return to the position, that pain is the great

safeguard of the frame, and now proceed to examine its
expression.
' In bodily pain the jaws are fixed, and the teeth grind ;
the lips are drawn laterally, the nostrils dilated ; the eyes
are largely uncovered and the eyebrows raised; the face is
turgid with blood, and the veins of the temple and fore-
head distended; the breath being checked, and the de-
scent of blood from the head impeded by the agony of the
chest, the cutaneous muscle of the neck acts strongly, and
draws down the angles of the mouth. But when joined to
this, the man cries out, the lips are retracted, and the
mouth open; and we find the muscles of his body rigid,
straining, struggling. If the pain be excessive, he becomes
insensible, and the chest is affected by sudden spasms.
On recovering consciousness, he is incoherent, till again
roused by suffering. In bodily pain conjoined with distress
of mind, the eyebrows are knit, while their inner ex-
tremities are raised; the pupils are im part concealed by
the upper eyelids, and the nostrils are agitated.

The expression of pain is distinguished from that of
weeping not less than from that of laughing. ‘These arise
from mental conditions, independent of physical causes,
and are uncontrollable and sympathetic. But pain is
bodily ; that is to say, there is a positive nervous sensa-
tion, which excites to action, or to acts of volition; an
energy of the whole frame is produced by suffering, and,
from the consciousness of its place or source, the efforts
are directed to remove it. Hence the struggle, the pow-

erful and voluntary exertions which accompany it. Yet
there is a resemblance and, in some degree, an alliance
between these actions and the spasms excited by galvanism
m experiments on the nerves of animals apparently dead.

nw PS Js. Fin
ae SN ag a A a a aa a bs

159

OF DEMONIACS.

“He has a Devil”»—Two of the greatest painters,
Raphael and Domenichino, have painted demoniacal boys.
In the convent of the Grotto Ferrata, in the neighbourhood
of Rome, Domenichino has represented Saint Nilus in the
act of relieving a lad possessed.* The saint, an old man,
is on his knees in prayer; the lad is raised and held up
by an aged man; the mother with a child is waiting the
consummation of the miracle. Convulsions have seized the
lad; he is rigidly bent back ; the lower limbs spasmodically
extended, so that his toes only rest on the ground; the eyes
are distorted, and the pupils turned up under the eyelids.
This would be the position of Opisthotonos, were not the
hands spread abroad, the palms and fingers open, and the
_jaw fallen. Had the representation been perfectly true to
nature, the jaws would have been clenched, and the teeth
erinding. But then the miracle could not have been
represented, for one, under the direction of the saint, has
the finger of his left hand in the boy’s mouth, and the
other holds a vessel of oil, with which the tongue is to be
touched. The drawing and colouring exhibited in the
lad, and the grandeur of the old men, make this one of
the most admired paintings in Italy.

I have here given a sketch of the true Opistho-
tonos, where it is seen that all the muscles are rigidly
contracted, the more powerful flexors prevailing over the

* « PDomenichino, in consequence of some peccadillo, took shelter in
the sanctuary of the monks of the Grotto Ferrata, a fortified convent
some miles distant from Rome. ‘The monks, under the threat of de-
livering him up, made him paint their walls ; and the frescoes are, indeed,
beautiful, particularly the old men. That compartment which is called
the Demoniac Boy, is most admired.” — Note from Journal.

160 DEMONIACS.

extensors. Were the painter to represent every circum-
stance faithfully, the effect might be too painful, and
something must be left to his taste and imagination.*

It may be considered bold to criticise the works of

Raphael; but I venture to say that, if that great master
intended, in his cartoon of the Death of Ananias, to
excite horror, the effect would have been more powerful, if

there had been greater truth in the convulsions of the
chief figure, instead of a mere twisting of the body.
Strange it is, but true, that we are most affected by the
more slight, if correct, portraiture of a natural condition.
S In the same painter’s great picture of the Transfi-
/ guration, in the Vatican, there is a lad possessed, and in

convulsions. I hope I am not insensible to the beauties of

,. * The original sketch is in the College of Surgeons of Edinburgh.
I took it from soldiers wounded in the head, at the Battle of Corunna.
Three men were similarly hurt, and in short successive intervals similarly
affected, so that the character could not be mistaken.

CONVULSIONS. 161

that picture, nor presumptuous in saying that the figure is
not natural. A physician would conclude that this youth
was feigning. He is, I presume, convulsed ; he is stiff-
ened with contractions, and his eyes turned in their
sockets. But no child was ever so affected. In real
convulsions, the extensor muscles yield to the more pow-
erful contractions of the flexor muscles; whereas, in the
picture, the lad extends his arms; and the fingers of the
left hand are stretched unnaturally backwards. Nor do
the lower extremities correspond with truth; he stands
firm; the eyes are not natural; they should have been
turned more inwards, as looking into the head, and
partially buried under the forehead. The mouth, too, is
open, which is quite at variance with the general con-
dition, and without the apology which Domenichino had.
The muscles of the arms are exaggerated to a degree
which Michael Angelo never attempted ; and still it is the
extensors and supinators, and not the flexors, which are
thus prominent.

Disease has characteristic symptoms, which we can
accurately and scientifically reduce to description ; and
borrowing from this source, there is no state of suffering
from which we can so well infer the nature of the agitation
of the frame as from hydrophobia. The patient being
sensible of his condition, and calm, and aware of the
experiment which is to be made upon him by his phy-
sician, when he calls for a glass of water, cannot resist the
influence of the disease. He shudders, his face assumes
an expression of extreme horror and alarm; convulsive
gulpings take place in his throat; he flies to some support,
and clings to the bedpost in an agony of suffocation.
This I have witnessed in a powerful man. I have had the
pain of seeing the disease in a girl of eighteen. The

162 CONVULSIONS.

irritability of the skin being increased to an awful degree,
so that the touch of her long hair falling on her naked
body, excited, as she said, the paroxysms. These recurred
with a sense of choking, with sudden and convulsive
heavings of the chest, a shuddering, and catching of the
muscles of breathing, and an appalling expression of suf-
fering. ‘The paroxysms in such a case becoming more

feo

frequent and severe, finally exhaust the powers of life. In
these convulsions it is the nervous and muscular systems
belonging to the natural function of respiration which are
affected ; and as they are also the organs of expression,
the condition is seen not only in the countenance, but in
the throat and chest, to be that of extreme horror.

163

FEAR.

‘¢ Nam Timor unus erat, facies non una timoris,
Pars laniat crines, pars sine mente sedet.
Altera meesta silet, frustra vocat altera matrem,
Hee queritur, stupet hae, hee fugit, illa manet.”

Ovip de Arte Amandi.

So Ovid describes the Sabine virgins; and such the
tumultuary and distracted state of mind produced by fear.
« And there is good reason for this, because in a sudden
daunt and onset of an unexpected evil, the spirits which
were before orderly carried by their several due motions
unto their natural works, are upon this strange appearance
and instant oppression of danger so disordered, mixed, and
stifled, that there is no power left either in the soul for
counsel, or in the body for execution.” In mere bodily
fear there is mere animal expression and meanness. The
breath is drawn and the respiration suspended; the body
fixed, and powerless; the eyes riveted, or searching and
unsteady ; and the action undetermined.

Mr. Burke, in his speculations on fear, assimilates it,
with perhaps too little discrimination, to pain. ‘“ A man
in great pain,” he observes, “has his teeth set; his eye-
brows are violently contracted ; his forehead is wrinkled ;
his eyes are dragged inwards, and rolled with great ve-
hemence; his hair stands on end; his voice is forced out
in short shrieks and groans; and the whole fabric totters.”—
“Fear or terror,” he continues, “which is an apprehen-
sion of pain or death, exhibits exactly the same effects,
approaching in violence to those just mentioned, in pro-
portion to the nearness of the cause, and the weakness of
the subject.” *

* Sublime and Beautiful, Part 1V. sect. 3. Cause of Pain and Fear.

od

aera ae — =
an a a i a a a eo uw

164 FEAR.

But there is one distinguishing feature of the two
conditions: the immediate effect of pain is to produce an
energetic action and tension of the whole frame ; that of fear
is to relax all the energy of mind and of body —to paralyse,
as it were, every muscle. Mr. Burke seems to have written
loosely, partly from forgetting that pain and fear are often
combined, and partly from taking a view of the subject. too
much limited to the particular conclusion which he wished
to enforce. There cannot be great pain without its being
attended by the distraction of doubts and fears; the dread
even of death is a natural consequence of extreme pain,
and so the expression of fear in the countenance is fre-
quently mingled with that of pain. But, perhaps, there
are few passions which may not be assimilated by such
combinations ; fear and hatred; hatred and rage; rage
and vengeance and remorse. On the other hand, confining
ourselves to simple bodily fear, there is much truth in the
observation of this eloquent writer. ‘The fear of boiling
water falling on the legs, gives an expression of the antici-
pation of scalding, resembling the meaner expression of
bodily pain. As Mr. Burke says, fear in a dog will no
doubt be that of the lash, and he will yelp and howl as if
he actually felt the blows; and this indeed is the only
kind of fear which brutes know. The higher degrees of
fear, in which the mind operates, and which we shall see
characterised in the countenance by an expression peculiar

_ to mental energy, do not appear in them.

In man, the expression of mere bodily fear is like that
of animals, without dignity; it is the mean. anticipation of

pain. The eyeball is largely uncovered, the eyes staring,

and the eyebrows elevated to the utmost stretch. There is
a spasmodic affection of the diaphragm and muscles of the
chest, disturbing the breathing, producing a gasping in the

FEAR. | 165

throat, with an inflation of the nostril, convulsive opening
of the mouth, and dropping of the jaw; the lips nearly
conceal the teeth, yet allow the tongue to be seen, the
space between the nostril and the lip being full. There is
a, hollowness and convulsive motion of the cheeks, and a

trembling of the lips, and muscles on the side of the neck.
The lungs are kept distended, while the breathing is short _
and rapid. ‘rom the connexion of the nerves of the lungs (
and diaphragm with those of the side of the neck, and with
the branches which supply the cutaneous muscle of the |
cheek and neck, we may comprehend the cause of the con-
vulsive motion of this muscle.* The aspect is pale and

* See Essay on the Nerves.

a Pee ee ae heer

166 FEAR.

cadaverous from the receding of the blood. The hair is
lifted up by the creeping of the skin, and action of the
occipito-frontalis.

In the preceding sketch, I have endeavoured to
express fear mingled with wonder. But if we should
suppose the fear there represented, to have arisen from

apprehended danger still remote, and that the object
of fear approaches, and is now about to cleave to the
person, he trembles, looks pale, has a cold sweat on his
face, and in proportion as the imagination has less room
to range in, as the danger is more distinctly visible, the
expression partakes more of actual bodily pain. ‘The

FEAR. 1607

scream of fear is heard, the eyes start forward, the lips are
drawn wide, the hands are clenched, and the expression
becomes more strictly animal, and indicative of such fear

as is common to brutes.*

* I shall here transcribe a portion from my brother's volume on Italy.
Mr. John Bell travelled in declining health; and died in Rome, in 1820.
He had written a great deal with a pencil, in the course of his journey ;
and no less than thirty small volumes of notes, thus jotted down on his
knee, were submitted by his widow to Professor Bell and myself. In
these we saw much to admire; but knowing how much would have been
changed and corrected had our brother lived, we thought them unfit for
publication. Of the many striking passages in the work, the following
may be selected as relating to the present subject :—

“Turin. The Execution of an Assassin.—I found myself opposite
to the distracted criminal whom they were conducting to execution in
all the agonies of terror and despair. He was seated in a black car,
preceded by arquebusiers, on horseback, carrying their carabines pointed
forward. These were followed by a band of priests, clothed in long black
robes, singing, in deep and solemn tones, a slow mournful dirge,— part of
the service for the dead. A hot burning sun shone with a flood of
light; and, though it was mid-day, such was the silence, and such the
power and effect of this solemn chant, that its sound was re-echoed
from every distant street. The brothers of the Misericordia, clothed
in black, and masked, walked by the side of the car, and joined in the
chant. On the steps of the car sat a man bearing a flag, on which
Death was represented in the usual forms, and on which was inscribed
in Latin (if I read it rightly), ‘ Death has. touched me with his fingers,’
or, ‘Death has laid his hands on me.’ / On each side of the car, the
officiating priests were seated; and in the centre, sat the criminal himself.
It was impossible to witness the condition of this unhappy wretch without
terror; and yet, as if impelled by some strange infatuation, it was equally
impossible not to gaze upon an object so wild, so full of horror. He
seemed about thirty-five years of age; of large and muscular form; his
countenance marked by strong and savage features ; half naked, pale (
as death, agonised with terror, every limb strained in anguish, his
hands clenched convulsively, the sweat breaking out on his bent and
contracted brow, he kissed incessantly the figure of our Saviour, painted
on the flag which was suspended before him; but with an agony of
wildness and despair, of which, nothing ever exhibited on the stage
can give the slightest conception. ‘I could not refrain from moralising

168 TERROR.

I should apply the name of terror to that kind of fear,
in which there is a strong working of the imagination, and
which is therefore peculiar to man. The eye is bewildered;
the inner extremity of the eyebrows is elevated, and strongly
knit by the action of the corrugator; thus producing an
expression of distracting thought, anxiety, and alarm, and
one which does not belong to animals. The cheek is a
little raised, and all the muscles which are concentred
about the mouth are active; there being a kind of modu-
lating action in the circular muscle of the lips, which keeps
the mouth partially open. The cutaneous muscle of the
neck, the platysma myoides, is strongly contracted, and its
fibres may be seen starting into action like cords, under
the skin, and dragging powerfully on the angles of the
mouth. ‘The imagination wanders; there is an indecision
in the action, the steps are furtive and unequal, there is a
spasm which hinders speech, and the colour of the cheeks

vanishes.
“ Canst thou quake and change thy colour,
Murther thy breath in middle of a word,
And then again begin, and stop again,
As if thou wast distraught and mad with terror?” *

When mingled with astonishment, terror is fixed and

upon the scene here presented. The horror that the priest had excited
in the soul of this savage, was greater than the fear of the most cruel
death could ever have produced. But the terrors thus raised, were the
superstitions of an ignorant and bewildered mind, bereft of animal
courage, and impressed with some confused belief, that eternal safety
was to be instantly secured by external marks of homage to the image.
There was here none of the composed, conscious, awful penitence of a.
Christian; and it was evident, that the priest was anxious only to pro-
duce a being in the near prospect of death, whose condition should
alarm all that looked on him. The attempt was successful.” — Od-
servations on Italy, p. 48. By the late John Bell. Published by his
Widow. Edinburgh, 1825.
* Richard III. Act iii. Scene 5.

ae DC a em reas a
a SA

DESPAIR. 169

mute. The fugitive and unnerved steps of mere terror ~
are then changed for the rooted and motionless figure of a
creature appalled and stupified. Spenser characterises
well this kind of terror :—

« He answer’d nought at all: but adding new
Fear to his first amazement, staring wide
With stony eyes, and heartless hollow hue,
Astonish’d stood, as one that had espy’d

Infernal furies with their chains unty’d.
* * * * *

But trembling every joint did inly quake,

And falt’ring tongue at last these words seem’d forth to shake.

Horror differs from both fear and terror, although
more nearly allied to the last than to the first. It is
superior to both in this, that it is less imbued with per-
sonal alarm. It is more full of sympathy with the suffer-
ings of others, than engaged with our own. We are struck
with horror even at the spectacle of artificial distress, but
it is peculiarly excited by the real danger or pain of
another. We see a child in the hazard of being crushed
by an enormous weight, with sensations of extreme horror.
Horror is full of energy; the body is in the utmost
tension, not unnerved, by fear. The flesh creeps, and
a sensation of cold seems to chill the blood; the term 1s
applicable of ‘ damp horror.”

Despair is a mingled emotion. While terror is in
some measure the balancing and distraction of a mind
occupied with an uncertainty of danger, despair is the total
wreck of hope, the terrible assurance of ruin having closed
around, beyond all power of escape. The expression of
despair must vary with the nature of the distress of which
it forms the acmé. In certain circumstances it will assume
a bewildered, distracted air, as if madness were likely to be

Boe

* Faery Queen, Book i. cant. 9, v- 24.
s

170 DESPAIR.

the only close to the mental agony. Sometimes there is at
once a wildness in the looks and total relaxation, as if fall-
ing into insensibility ; or there is upon the countenance of
the desperate man a horrid gloom; the eye is fixed, yet he
neither sees nor hears aught, nor is sensible of what sur-
rounds him. ‘The features are shrunk and livid, and
convulsion and tremors affect the muscles of the face.
Hogarth has chosen well the scene of his picture of despair.
~~’ In a gaming-house, the wreck of all hope affects, in a thou-
sand various ways, the victims of this vice; but in every
representation of despair, an inconsolable and total aban-
donment of those exertions to which hope inspirits and
excites a man, forms an essential feature. We have two
fine descriptions of despair given in detail by English poets.
One is by Spenser :

«“ The darksome cave they enter, where they find
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullen mind ;

His greazy locks, long growing and unbound,
Disorder’d hung about his shoulders round,

And hid his face; through which his hollow eyne
Look, deadly dull, and stared as astound ;

His raw-bone cheeks, through penury and pine,

Were shrunk into his jaws, as he did never dine.” *

The other is in the tragedy of the “ Gamester,” where
Beverley, after heart-rending reiteration of hope and dis-
appointment, having staked the last resource of his wife
and family on one fatal throw, finds himself suddenly
plunged into ruin.

«¢ When all was lost, he fixed his eyes upon the ground,
and stood some time with folded arms stupid and motionless:
then snatching his sword that hung against the wainscot,

* Faery Queen, Book i. cant. 9, v. 39.

ADMIRATION. 171

he sat him down, and with a look of fixed attention drew -
figures on the floor. At last he started up; looked wild
and trembled; and, like a woman seized with her sex’s
fits, laughed out aloud, while the tears trickled down his
face. So he left the room.” ot
A painter may have to represent terror, despair,
astonishment, and supernatural awe, mingled in one power-
ful expression of emotion. In a mind racked with deep
despair, conscious of strength and courage, but withered
and subdued by supernatural agency, the expression 1s
quite removed from all meanness ; it must be preserved
grand and terrific; the hero may still appear, though
palpitating and drained of vigour.
Milton has admirably sketched the nerveless stupefaction
of mingled astonishment and horror : —
“On th’ other side, Adam, soon as he heard

The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz’'d,

Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill

Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax’d ;

From his slack hand the garland wreath’d for Eve

Down dropp’d, and all the faded roses shed :

Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length —
First to himself he inward silence broke.” *

In admiration, the faculty of sight 1s enjoyed to the
utmost, and all else is forgotten. The brow is expanded
and unrufiled, the eyebrow gently raised, the eyelid lifted
so as to expose the coloured circle of the eye, while the
lower part of the face is relaxed in a gentle smile. The
mouth is open, the jaw a little fallen, and by the relaxation
of the lower lip we just perceive the edge of the lower teeth
and the tongue. ‘The posture of the body is most expressive
when it seems arrested in some familiar action.

_ * Paradise Lost, Book ix. ver. 888.

{
|
F
s
f
Ef
P
|
Ref
By }
\ }
FE |
aa
4
}
-

172 JOY.

Joy is distinguishable from pleasure. It consists, not
so much in the sense of gratification, as in the delight of
the conviction that the long-expected pleasure is within
our reach, and the lively anticipation of the enjoyment
which is now decked out in its most favourite and al-
luring shape. A certain sensation of want is mingled
with joy; a recollection of the alternate hopes and fears
which formerly distracted the mind, contrasted with the
immediate assurance of gratification.

In joy the eyebrow is raised moderately, but without
any angularity; the forehead is smooth; the eye full,
lively, and sparkling ; the nostril is moderately inflated,
and a smile is on the lips. In all the exhilarating emo-
tions, the eyebrow, the eyelids, the nostril, and the angle
of the mouth are raised. In the depressing passions it 1s
the reverse. For example, in discontent the brow is
clouded, the nose peculiarly arched, and the angle of the
mouth drawn down. —

Contrasted with joy is the testy, pettish, peevish coun-
tenance bred of melancholy; as of one who is incapable of
receiving satisfaction from whatever source it may be
offered ; who cannot endure any man to look steadily upon
him, or even speak to him, or laugh, or jest, or be familiar,
or hem, or point, without thinking himself contemned,
insulted, or neglected.

The arching of the mouth and peculiar form of the
wings of the nose are produced by the conjoint action of
the triangular muscle which depresses the angles of the
mouth, and the superbus, whose individual action protrudes
the lower lip. The very peevish turn given to the eye-
brows, the acute upward inflection of their mner ex-
tremities, and the meeting of the perpendicular and trans-
verse furrows in the middle of the forehead, are produced

JEALOUSY. 173

by the opposed action of part of the frontal muscle and of -
the corrugator.

Habitual suspicion and jealousy are symptoms and
accompaniments of melancholy. Envy may be classed
with these expressions ; but it is an ungenerous repining,
not a momentary passion.* “It consumes a man as a
moth does a garment, to be a living anatomy, a skeleton—

* «La invidia, crudelissimo dolore di animo, per il bene altrui, fa
ritirar tutti i membri, come contraere et offuscar le ciglie, stringere i
denti, ritirar le labbra, torcersi con certa passione di sguardo quasi in
atto di volere intendere et spiare i fatti altrui,” &c.— Lomazzo, p. 180.

174 JEALOUSY.

to be a lean and pale carcass quickened with the fiend —
‘ entabescetque videndo. ”
Suspicion is characterised by earnest attention, with a
certain timorous obliquity of the eyes : —
‘Nec Foul, ill-favoured and grim,
Under his eyebrows looking still askance ; |
And ever as Dissemblance laugh’d on him,
He lour’d on her with dangerous eye glance,
Showing his nature in his countenance :
His rolling eyes did never rest in place, "
But walk’d each where, for fear of hid mischance,
Holding a lattice still before his face,
Through which he still did peep as forward he did pace.” *

Jealousy is marked by a more frowning and dark ob-
liquity of the eyes, as if it said, ‘I have an eye on you;”
with the lowering eyebrow is combined a cruel expression
of the lower part of the face.

Jealousy is a fitful and unsteady passion: its chief
character is in the rapid vicissitudes from love to hate;
now absent, moody, and distressed; now courting love;
now ferocious and revengeful: these changes make it a
difficult subject for the painter; and it is only in poetry
that it can be truly presented in the vivid colours of
nature. Eyen among poets, Shakspeare alone seems to
have been equal to the task. Sometimes it may be per-

sonified in the face of a mean, suspicious, yet oppressed

creature ; or again in a lowering expression, the body as if
shrunk into itself; like that of one brooding over his con-
dition, and piecing out a tissue of trifling incidents to abuse
his judgment.

Tn jealousy the eyebrows are knit, and the eyelid so
fully lifted as almost to disappear, while the eyeball

* Faery Queen, Book iii. ce. 12, v. 15.

ee

RAGE. 175

glares from under the bushy eyebrow. There is a general
tension of the muscles which concentre around the
mouth, and the lips retract and shew the teeth with a
fierce expression; this depends partly on the turn of the
nostril, which accompanies the retraction of the lips. The
mouth should express that bitter anguish which the Italian
poet has rather too distinctly told: —
“‘Trema ’l cor dentro, ec treman fuor le labbia,

Non puo la lingua disnodar parola,
La bocea amara e par che tosco v’ habbia.’

,

Again : —
“ E per I’ ossa un tremor freddo gli scorre,
Con cor trafitto, e con pallida faccia,
E con voce tremante, e bocea amara.”

There seems to be a natural succession in the passions
of rage, revenge, and remorse: I do not mean morally,
but in regard to our present inquiry concerning the traits
of expression. A slight change in the lineaments of rage
gives the expression of revenge, while the cruel eye of
revenge is tempered by the relaxing energy of the lower
part of the countenance in remorse.

Rage is that excess or vehemence of anger that can be
no longer restrained —se@va animi tempestas. Whether
the object be near or remote, the frame is wrought and
chafed. It is a brutal passion, in which the body acts
with an impetuosity not directed by sense. If we observe
it in a beast, we shall better recognise it in man. When
the keeper strikes the tiger or the wolf with his pole,
there is an instantaneous fire of expression ; the eye, the
teeth are in a moment exposed, and accompanied with an
excitement of the frame which we cannot see unmoved. If
we imagine the human brute strangling helpless age or in-
fancy, it must be with such a rage as this. Lord Kames

=

176 RAGE.

says, “‘ A stock or a stone by which I am hurt becomes an
object of resentment, and I am violently incited to crush it
to atoms.” This is purely as the wolf bites the stick
which is presented to him. In considering those bursts of
passion which lead us to wreak our vengeance upon inani-
mate objects, Dr. Reid supposes we are possessed with the
momentary belief that the object is alive: ‘“‘ There must,”

he says, “be some momentary notion or conception that
the object of our resentment is capable of punishment.”
I believe the mistake here is in not having a confirmed
notion of the intimate connexion between the emotion in
the mind and the exertion of the bodily frame. The body
and limbs suffer an agitation as the face does, resulting
from the passion; and if a man, half conscious of the frenzy
which possesses him, and afraid of bemg betrayed into an
act of cruelty, flings from him the weapon of destruction,

RAGE. ‘77

it is with the jerk and impetuosity of an outrageous act ;
whilst his humane sense controls him, it is not capable of
arresting that instinctive agency of the body wrought upon
by the passion; just as a man, after a long exercise of
patience in some work of delicacy or nicety, is at last
overcome, dashes the instrument from him, and relieves
himself by a burst of impatience and some angry strides.

In rage the features are unsteady; the eyeballs are
seen largely; they roll and are inflamed. The front is
alternately knit and raised in furrows by the motion of the
eyebrows, the nostrils are inflated to the utmost; the lips
are swelled, and being drawn by the muscles, open the
corners of the mouth. The whole visage is sometimes
pale, sometimes turgid, dark, and almost livid; the words
are delivered strongly through the fixed teeth; “the hair
is fixed on end like one distracted, and every joint should
seem to curse and ban.” *

Tasso thus describes the rage of Argante :—

“‘ Tacque; e 'l Pagano al sofferir poco uso,
Morde le labbra, e di furor si strugge.
Risponder vuol, ma ’l suono esce confuso,
Siccome strido d’ animal, che rugge:

O come apre le nubi ond’ egli é chiuso,
Impetuoso il fulmine, e sen fugge ;
Cosi pareva a forza ogni suo detto
Tonando uscir dall’ infiammato petto.”
Cant. vi. 38.

* “La furia fa gl’ atti stolti e fuor di se; siecokme di quelli che si
avvolgono ne i moti offensivi, senza riguardo aleuno, rendendosi vehe-
menti in tutti gl’ affetti, con bocca aperta et storta, che par che stridano,
ringhino, urlino et si lamentino, straeciandosi le membra et i panni et
facendo altre smanie.’”— Lomazzo, lib. ii. p. 185.

If the painter has any imagination and power of delineation, the
reading of the combat of Tancred and Argante must inspire him with a
grand conception of the sublime ferocity of the human figure in action.

178 REMORSEE.

But in representing the passion, it may be much
varied: perhaps the eyes are fixed upon the ground; the
countenance pale, troubled, and threatening; the lip
trembling and the breath suppressed, or there is a deep
and long inspiration as of inward pain.

In the following sketch I endeavoured to represent that

expression which succeeds the last horrid act of revenge:
the storm has subsided, but the gloom is not yet dissipated.
Some compunctious visitings of nature are in the lips,
though the eye retains its severity. By the posture and

MADNESS. 179

fixed attention, I would indicate that the survey of the now
lifeless body carries back the train of thought with regret
for past transactions.

To represent the prevailing character and physiognomy
of a madman, the body should be strong and the muscles
rigid and distinct, the skin bound, the features sharp, the

eye sunk; the colour of a dark brownish yellow, tinctured

with sallowness, without one spot of enlivening carnation ;
the ‘hair sooty black, stiff and bushy. Or, perhaps, he
might be represented as of a pale sickly yellow, with wiry
hair.

“is burning eyen, whom bloody strakes did stain,
Stared full wide, and threw forth sparks of fire ;
And more for rank despight than for great pain,
Shak’d his long locks, colour’d like copper wire,

And bit his tawny beard to show his raging ire.” *

Ido not mean here to trace the progress of the diseases
of the mind, but merely to throw out some hints respecting
the external character of the outrageous maniac.

You see him lying in his cell regardless of every thing,
with a death-like settled gloom upon his countenance.
When I say it is a death-like gloom, I mean a heaviness of
the features without knitting of the brows or action of the
muscles. If you watch him in his paroxysm you may see
the blood working to his head; his face acquires a darker
red; he becomes restless; then rising from his couch he
paces his cell and tugs his chains; now his inflamed eye
is fixed upon you, and his features lighten up into wildness
and ferocity.

The error into which a painter may naturally fall, is
to represent this expression by the swelling features of

* Faery Queen, Book ii. cant. 4, v. 15.

180 MADNESS.

passion and the frowning eyebrow; but this would only
give the idea of passion, not of madness. Or he mistakes
melancholia for madness. ‘The theory upon which we are
to proceed in attempting to convey this peculiar look of
ferocity amidst the utter wreck of the intellect, I conceive
to be, that the expression of mental energy should be

avoided, and consequently the action of all those muscles
which indicate sentiment. I believe this to be true to
nature, because I have observed (contrary to my expecta-
tion) that there was not that energy, that knitting of the
brows, that indignant brooding and thoughtfulness in the
face of madmen which is generally imagined to charac-

‘ MADNESS. . 181

terise their expression, and which is so often given to them
in painting. ‘There is a vacancy in their laugh, and a want
of meaning in their ferociousness.

To learn the character of the countenance, when devoid
of human expression, and reduced to the state of brutality,
we must have recourse to the lower animals, and study
their looks of timidity, of watchfulness, of excitement, and
of ferocity. If these expressions are transferred to the
human face, I should conceive that they will irresistibly
convey the idea of madness, vacancy of mind, and mere
animal passion.

But these discussions are only for the study of the
painter. ‘The subject should be full in his mind, without
its bemg for a moment imagined that such painful or
humiliating details are suited to the canvass. If madness
is to be represented, it 1s with a moral aim, to shew the
consequences of vice and the indulgence of passion.

There is a link of connexion between all liberal pro-
fessions. The painter may borrow from the physician.
He will require something more than his fancy can sup-
_ ply, if he has to represent a priestess or a sybil. It must
be the creation of a mind, learned as well as inventive.

He may readily conceive a female form full of energy,

her imagination at the moment exalted and pregnant, so
that things long past are painted in colours as. if they
stood before her, and her expression becomes bold and
poetical. But he will have a more true and _ precise
idea of what is to be depicted, if he reads the his-
tory-.of that melancholia which undoubtedly, in early
times, has given the idea of one possessed with a spirit.
A young woman is seen constitutionally pale and lan-
guid; and from this inanimate state, no show of affection
or entreaty will draw her into conversation with her

182 MADNESS.

family. But how changed is her condition, when instead of
the lethargy and fixed countenance, the circulation is sud-
denly restored, the blood mounts to her cheeks, and her
eyes sparkle, while both in mind and body she manifests
an unwonted energy, and her whole frame is animated.
During the continuance of the paroxysm, she delivers
herself with a force of thought and language, and in a tone
so greatly altered, that even her parents say, “ She is not
our child, she is not our daughter, a spirit has entered
into her.” This is in accordance with the prevailing
superstition of antiquity; for how natural to suppose,
when this girl again falls into a state of torpor, and sits
like a marble statue, pale, exhausted, taciturn, that the
spirit has left her. The transition is easy; the priests
take her under their care, watch her ravings and give
them meaning, until she sinks again into a death-like
stupor or indifference.

Successive attacks of this kind impress the countenance
indelibly. ‘The painter has to represent features powerful,
but consistent with the maturity and perfection of feminine

beauty. He will shew his genius by portraying, not only
a fine female form with the grandeur of the antique, but a

face of peculiar character; embodying a state of disease
often witnessed by the physician, with associations derived
from history. If on the dead and uniform paleness of the
face he bestows that deep tone of interest which belongs
to features inactive, but not incapable of feeling: if he
can shew something of the imprint of long suffering
isolated from human sympathy, throw around her the
appropriate mantle, and let the fine hair fall on her
shoulders, the picture will require no golden letters to
announce her character, as in the old paintings of the

Sybil or the Pythoness.

183

OF DEATH, AS REPRESENTED IN THE PAINTINGS OF THE
OLD MASTERS.

Before proceeding, I must repeat, that the convulsions

of the body which sometimes accompany the act of dying,
are not the effect of pain, but succeed to insensibility.
There may remain, after death, for a time, the expression
of suffering; but this soon subsides, and the features
become placid and composed. Therefore it is that the
sorrowing friends are withdrawn, until Death has had
the victory, when the features assume the tranquillity of
sleep.

~The observation of Leonardo da Vinci, that contrast
is essential in painting, has a fine example in the picture

\y of the “ Martyrdom of St. Agnes.”* Near the martyr lie
"’ two soldiers struck down by a miracle: one of these is in

the agony, but not yet dead; the muscles of his neck are
convulsed, the mouth extended, and the lips drawn back
from the teeth, the brow is furrowed, the eyes almost closed,
and the pupils not visible: the other soldier is tumbled
over him ; his features are fixed in death: with both of
these is contrasted the resignation of the martyr.

When in Rome, I heard much of the fine statue of
St. Cecilia; I, therefore, went to the Convent of St. Cecilia
Decollata. Looking for a statue, my surprise was great
when it was pointed out where the figure lay, in a crypt
or low marble arch, under the great altar.t A gold case,
containing the heart of the saint, hangs from the centre of
the arch. St. Cecilia was an early convert to Christianity,
and having drawn her brother, and many others to the

* In the Academia delle belle Arte, Bologna.
+ In the Church of St. Cecilia in Trastevere.

184 DEATH.

faith, she suffered martyrdom, and was found in the precise
position in which this marble represents her. The body
lies on its side, the limbs a little drawn up; the hands are
delicate and fine, they are not locked, but crossed at the
wrists; the arms are stretched out. The drapery 1s
beautifully modelled, and modestly covers the limbs. The
head is enveloped in linen, but the general form is seen,
and the artist has contrived to convey by its position, though
not offensively, that it is separated from the body. A gold
circlet is around the neck to conceal the place of decol-
lation. It is the statue of a lady, perfect in form, and
affecting from the resemblance to reality in the drapery of
white marble, and the unexpected appearance of the statue
altogether. It lies, as no living body could lie; and yet
correctly, as the dead, when left to expire,—I mean in the
gravitation of the limbs.*

The position of the head will distinguish the dead from
the living figure. There is so much difference between
fainting and death ; that is to say, it is so possible to mark
the difference, that I confess I have been disappointed by

the failure of some of the finest painters; for example, in
the representation of the Madonna fainting at the foot of
the cross, which is a very frequent subject, the colouring is
commonly that of death.t

* Statua di St. Cecilia.—“ Questa graziosa statua giacente, rappre-
senta un corpo morto come se allora fosse caduto mollemente sul terreno,
colle estremita ben disposte e con tutta la decenza nell’ assetto dei pan-
neggiamenti, tenendo la testa rivolta all’ ingiu e avilluppata in una benda,
senza che inopportunamente si scorga I’ irrigidire dei corpi freddi per
morte. Le pieghe vi sono facile, e tutta la grazia spira dalla persona,
che si vede essere giovine e gentile, quantunque asconda la faccia; le
forme generali, e le belle estremita che se mostrano, danno a vedere con
quanta grazia e con quanta scelta sia stata imitata la natura in quel
posare si dolcemente.”

+ Gest Cristo Morto.—“ He lies, the head and shoulders resting on

DEATH. 185

There is sometimes in death a fearful agony in the eye ;
but we have said, that it is consolatory to know that this
does not indicate suffering, but increasing insensibility.
The pupils are turned upwards and inwards. This is
especially observed in those who are expiring from loss of
blood. It is the strabismus patheticus orantium of Boer-
haave. Sauvages observes on this rolling up of the eye-
ball, in dying children, — « Vulgo aiunt hos tenellos suam
patriam respicere.” ‘The vulgar say, that these little ones
are looking to their native home.’

We cannot fail to observe how artfully the poets
accommodate their descriptions of death to that kind of
interest which they have laboured to excite. The tyrant
falls convulsed and distorted in agony ; the hero, in whose
fate we have been made to sympathise, expires without
the horrors of death; his fall is described with all
the images of gentle sinking, where mortal languor is
succeeded by insensibility, unaccompanied by pangs and
struggles,

In the episode of Nisus and Euryalus, Virgil gives to
the death of Sulmo all the horror of violent death; the
breath is convulsively drawn, and the sides palpitate.

“‘ Hasta volans noctis diverberat umbras,
Et venit aversi in tergum Sulmonis, ibique
Frangitur, ac fisso transit preecordia ligno.

Volvitur ille vomens calidum de pectore flumen
Frigidus, et longis singultibus ilia pulsat.”— 4i'neid, ix. 411.

the knees of his mother, who has fainted. The posture and abandon-
ment of the Magdalen is the finest representation possible; her hair, as
usual, loose. She is kneeling at the feet of our Saviour, her hands con-
vulsively entwined. The dead body is beautifully drawn; the anatomy
perfect, not exaggerated. But the mother is dead— gone to decay —not
in faint, but in death: such is the effect of the colouring.” — Note from
Journal. Parma.

186 DEATH.

But in the death of Euryalus the poet recurs to all the
images of languid and gentle decline : —

« Volvitur Euryalus letho, pulchrosque per artus
It cruor, inque humeros cervix collapsa recumbit :
Purpureus veluti quum flos, succisus aratro,
Languescit moriens ; lassove papavera collo
Demisere caput, pluvia quum forte gravantur.” *
Ai neid, ix. 433.

Tasso presents us with some very fine contrasts of the
same kind; in the death of Argante, for example, there is
a picture of ferocious impetuosity and savage strength : —

«‘ [nfuriossi allor Tancredi et disse ;
Cosi abusi, fellon, la pieta mia?
Poi la spada gli fisse et gli refisse
Nella visiera, ove accerto la via.
Moriva Argante, e tal moria qual visse :
Minacciava morendo, e non languia ;
Superbi, formidabili, e feroci
Gli ultimi moti fir, l’ultime voci.”
Tasso, Ger. Lib. cant. xix. 26.

Sometimes, indeed, death may be represented unac-
companied with the horror by which it is commonly

* In the death of Dardinel, the simile of Virgil is beautifully imitated
by Ariosto:—

“‘ Come purpureo fior languendo muore
Che’l vomere al passar tagliato lassa ;
O come carco di soverchio umore
ll papaver no I’ horto, il capo abbassa ;
Cosi gid de la faccia ogni colore
Cadendo, Dardinel di vita passa,” &c.

Cant. xviii. 153.

As a further contrast, we might take the death of the Soldan’s page,
Ger. Lib. ix. 86. So of Nisus throwing himself upon the body of his friend,
ZEneid, ix. 444. Contrast also the death of Eunzus, Jd. xi. 668, with _
that of Camilla, in the same book.

DEATH. 187

associated. A young creature is seen in death, as if asleep,
with the beauty of countenance unobscured by convulsion ;
the form remains, but the animation is gone, and the
colours of life have given place to the pale tints of death.

“‘ D’ un bel pallore ha il bianco volto asperso,
Come a’ gigli sarian miste viole.
— - In questa forma
Passa la bella donna, e par che dorma.”
Tasso, Ger. Lib. cant. xii. 69.

Again the same poet : —

«« K, quasi un ciel notturno, anco sereno
Senza splendor la faccia scolorata.”

Or Petrarch :—

“ Non come fiamma che per forza € spenta,

Ma che per sé medesma si consume,
Se n’ ando in pace I’ anima contenta:

A guisa di un soave e chiaro lume,
Cui nutrimento a poco a poco manca,
Tenendo al fin suo usato costume;

Pallida no, ma pit che neve bianca,
Che senza vento in un bel colle fioechi,
Parea posar come persona stanca.

Quasi un dolce dormir ne’ suoi begli occhi,
Essendo il spirto gia’ da lei diviso,
Era quel che morir chiaman gli sciocchi.

Morte bella parea nel suo bel viso.”
Trionfo della Morte.

A man who has died in battle lies blanched and very
pale; he has bled to death; but one strangled, smitten,
or crushed by some deadly contusion, has the blood settled
in his face. The following picture is truly horrible from

its truth and accuracy : —

“ But, see, his face is black, and full of blood ;
His eyeballs further out than when he lived,

DEATH.

Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ;
His hair uprear’d, his nostrils stretch’d with struggling ;
His hands abroad display’d as one that grasp’d
And tugg’d for life, and was by strength subdued.
Look on the sheets ; his hair, you see, is sticking ;
His well-proportion’d beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged.
It cannot be but he was murder’d here;
The least of all these signs were probable.”
King Henry VI. Part II.

The laws of inquest in England require such things to

be witnessed in all their appalling circumstances, since the

body lies where it falls, and no weapon or even disorder of
dress is removed.

Are such scenes to be painted ?—Certainly not. ‘The
impression may be conveyed to the spectator consistently
with good taste, and in a manner less obtrusive, so as to
awaken the sensations which should attend them, without
the detail of the actual scene. It may be allowed in
words, as Shakspeare has represented the body of the good
Duke Humphrey; but, in painting, the representation
becomes too palpable to admit the whole features of horror.

<<
Ga ~

ESSAY VIII.

OF EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY—THE EMO-
TIONS MODIFIED BY CONTROLLING EXPRESSION.

In the preceding essays, it has been shewn, that the
powerful passions influence the same class of nerves and
muscles which are affected in highly excited or anxious
breathing; and it was inferred, that the apparatus of
respiration is the instrument by which the emotions are
manifested. In fear or in grief, the movements of the
nostrils, the uncontrollable tremor of the lips, the con-
vulsions of the neck and chest, and the audible sobbing,
prove that the influence of the mind extends over the
organs of respiration; so that the difference is slight
between the action of the frame in a paroxysm of the
passions and in the agony of a drowning man.

Having traced the connexion between the excitement
of the chest or trunk of the body and expression in the

face, we may for a moment turn our attention to the
consent between the breathing or expression of the
body generally, and the position of the limbs. Let us
take the instances by which we before illustrated the
universal consent of the animal frame. When the tiger

190 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

or wolf is struck by the keeper, and suddenly roused to
ferocity and activity, the character is seen not only in the
glare of the eyes, the retraction of the lips, and the harsh
sound of the breath as it is forcibly drawn through the
' confined throat, but every muscle is in tension, and the
limbs in an attitude of strained exertion, prepared to
spring. In this condition of high animal excitement,
observe the manner in which the chest is kept distended
and raised; the inspiration is quick, the expiration slow ;
and, as the keeper strikes the jaw, there is at the same
instant a start into exertion, and the breath rapidly drawn
in. The cause of this expansion of the chest is readily
understood, when we recollect that the muscles by which
the limbs are exerted have two extremities: one fixed,
which is called the origin; the other moveable, which is
called the insertion. ‘The muscles of the arms, in man, and
of the forelegs, in brutes, have their origins on the chest.
To give power to the further extremities or insertions of
these muscles into the limbs, the chest must be fixed: and,
to give them their fullest power, it must be raised and ex-
panded, as well as fixed. Hence that most terrible silence
in human conflict, when the outcry of terror or pain is stifled
in exertion; for, during the struggle with the arms, the
chest must be expanded or in the act of rising, and,
therefore, the voice, which consists in the expulsion of the
breath by the falling or compression of the chest, is sup-
pressed, and the muscles which perform the office of raising
and distending the chest, act in aid of the muscles of the
arms. The moment of alarm is also that of flight or defence ;
the sudden and startled exertion of the hands and arms is
attended with a quick inspiration and spasm of the mouth
and throat, and the first sound of fear is in drawing, not in
expelling the breath; for at that instant to depress and

EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY. 191

contract the chest would be to relax the muscles of the
arms and enfeeble their exertion. Or, to put the example
in another form, suppose two men wrestling in the dark,
would not their voices convey to us the violence of their
efforts? ‘The short exclamation choked in the act of
exertion, the feeble and stifled sounds of their breathing,
would let us know that they turned, and twisted, and were
in mortal strife. To an apt observer, two dogs fighting
might illustrate the subject. Such combinations of the
muscular actions are not left to the direction of our will,
but are provided for in the original constitution of the

animal body: they are instinctive motions. Yet, the
principles of criticism in these matters have been laid
down with surprising confidence by persons who had no
knowledge of anatomy, and whose curiosity had never

been raised, to inquire into the phenomena of their own
emotions, or of those they must have witnessed in others.
‘I shall transcribe here a passage from an elegant and
ingenious critic, on which I shall freely make some
remarks.

‘In like manner it is not with the agonies of a man,
writhing in the pangs of death, that we sympathise, on
beholding the celebrated group of Laocoon and his sons;
for such sympathies can only be painful and disgusting :
but it is with the energy and fortitude of mind which
those agonies call into action and display. For though
every feature and every muscle is convulsed, and every
nerve contracted, yet the breast is expanded and the throat
compressed, to shew that he suffers in silence. I therefore
still maintain, in spite of the blind and indiscriminate
admiration, which pedantry always shews for every thing
which bears the stamp of high authority, that Virgil has

192 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

debased the character, and robbed it of all its sublimity and
grandeur of expression by making Laocoon roar like a bull ;
and I think that I may safely affirm, that if any writer of
tragedy were to make any one personage of his drama to
roar out in the same manner, on being mortally wounded,
the whole audience would burst into laughter, how pa-
thetic soever the incidents might be that accompanied it.
Homer has been so sensible of this, that of the vast number
and variety of deaths, which he has described, he has
never made a single Greek cry out on receiving a mortal
wound.” *

The criticism here is just, so far as the artist is praised
and the poet blamed; but the critic has mistaken the
ground of the praise and of the blame. It appears
strange that any one should philosophise on such points,
and yet be ignorant of the most common things in the
structure of his own frame, and of the facts most essential
to just criticism in works of art. What ideas can be
conveyed, for example, by “the convulsion of a feature,”
and the “ contraction of a nerve?”

The writer has had the impression, which all who look
on the statue must have, that Laocoon suffers in silence,
that there is no outcry. But the aim of the artist is

mistaken. He did not mean to express “‘ energy and
fortitude of mind,” or, by ‘‘expanding the breast and com-
pressing the throat, to shew that he suffers in silence.”
His design was to represent corporeal exertion, the attitude
and struggles of the body and of the arms. ‘The throat is
inflated, the chest straining, to give power to the muscles
of the arms, while the slightly parted lips shew that no

* Mr. Payne Knight on Taste, p. 333.

EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY. 193

breath escapes; or, at most, a low and hollow ecroan.* He
could not roar like a bull —he had not the power to push
his breath out in the very moment of the great exertion of
his arms to untwist the serpent which is coiled around
him. It is a mistake to suppose that the suppressed voice,
and the consent of the features with the exertion of the
frame, proceed from an effort of the mind to sustain his
pain in dignified silence; for this condition of the arms,
chest, and face, are necessary parts of one action.

The instant that the chest is depressed to vociferate or
bellow, the muscles arising from the ribs and inserted into
the arm-bones must be relaxed, and the exertion of the
arms becomes feeble. Again, in speaking or exclaiming,
a consent runs through all the respiratory muscles; those
of the mouth and throat combine with those which move
the chest. Had the sculptor represented Laocoon as if
the sound flowed from his open mouth, there would have
been a strange inconsistency with the elevated condition of
his breast. Neither is it correct to suppose it possible that
a man struck down with a mortal wound, and rolling in
the dust, like Homer’s ill-fated heroes, can roar out like a
a bull. A mortal wound has an immediate influence on
these vital parts and respiratory organs, and the attempt
to cry aloud would end in a feeble wail or groan. ‘There

* « Tile simul manibus tendit divellere nodos,
Perfusus sanie vittas atroque veneno:
Clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit :
Qualis mugitus, fugit quum saucius aram
Taurus, et incertam excussit cervice securim.”
Aineid, Lib. ii. 1. 220,
“Virgilio ci rappresente Laocoonte in smanie e in muggite, come
un toro ferito a morte; ma Agesendro seppe exprimere tutto il dolore,
senza cedere la bellezze.”— Azara, p. 58. This is just the criticism of
Mr. Payne Knight.
ile

194 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

is no danger that the tragedian who follows nature should
offend the taste of an audience by actual outcry. But these
critics think it necessary to refine and go beyond nature,
whereas the rule is to learn her ways, and to be cautious of
adding the slightest trait of expression, or what we con-
ceive to be such, to the simple, and because simple, the
grand character of natural action; instead of making the
appeal more strongly to the senses, it is sure to weaken it.

| In Bernini's statue of David with his sling, there is an
“attempt at expression which offends good taste, because it
is not true to nature. The artist has meant by the biting
of the lip to convey the idea of resolution and energy. But
that is an action intended to restrain expression, to sup-
press an angry emotion which is rising in the breast ; and
if it be permitted, even in caricature, it must be as a sign
of some trifling inconvenience, never of heroism. It is not
suitable to the vigorous tone which should pervade the
whole frame. That vigour cannot be otherwise represented,
than by the excitement of the breast, lips, and nostrils,
while the posture and the eyes give it a direction and
meaning. This is all destroyed by an expression so weak
and inconsistent as biting the lip; it is vulgar, not because
it is common, but because it is a trick, and not true to
nature.

The “ Dying Gladiator” is one of those masterpieces of
antiquity which exhibits a knowledge of anatomy and of
man’s nature. He is not resting; he is not falling; but
in the position of one wounded in the chest and seeking
relief in that anxious and oppressed breathing which at-
tends a mortal wound with loss of blood. He seeks
support to his arms, not to rest them or to sustain the
body, but to fix them, that their action may be transferred

to the chest, and thus assist the labourimg respiration.

EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY. 195

The nature of his sufferings leads to this attitude. In a
man expiring from loss of blood, as the vital stream flows,
the heart and lungs have the same painful feeling of want,
which is produced by obstruction to the breathing. As
the blood is draining from him, he pants, and looks wild,
and the chest heaves convulsively. And so the ancient
artist has placed this statue in the posture of one who

gy

Zw
Li

Zi

suffers the extremity of difficult respiration. The fixed
condition of the shoulders, as he sustains his sinking body,
shews that the powerful muscles, common to the ribs and
arms, have their action concentrated to the struggling
chest. In the same way does a man afflicted with asthma
rest his hands or his elbows upon a table, stooping for-
wards, that the shoulders may become fixed points; the
muscles of the arm and shoulder then act as muscles of
respiration, and aid in the motion of the chest, during the
heaving and anxiety which belong to the disease.

196 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

When a man is mortally wounded, and still more if
he be bleeding to death as the gladiator, he presents the
appearance of suffocation; for the want is felt in the
breast, and relief is sought in the heaving of the chest.
If he have at that moment the sympathy and aid of a
friend, he will cling to him, half raising himself and
twisting his chest with the utmost exertion; and while
every muscle of the trunk stands out abrupt and pro-
minent, those of the neck and throat, and nostrils and
mouth, will partake the excitement. In this condition he
will remain fixed, and then fall exhausted with the ex-
ertion; it is in the moment of the chest smking, that the
voice of suffering may be heard. If he have fallen on the
turf, it is not from pain, but from that indescribable
agony of want and instinctive struggling, that the grass
around the lifeless body is lodged and torn.

So too with the actor. In order to convey to the
spectator the idea of human nature agitated by passion or
suffering, he must study how the parts of the frame are
united and co-operate in expression. Of the success of
such an effort we had lately an example on our own stage.
It was in witnessing the struggles of a man who had
received the mortal thrust, and the representation was
horribly correct. The actor having rubbed the paint from
his face, presented a hollow cheek, with the countenance
haggard and pale; but it was the heaving of the shoulders
attending his deep and painful inspiration,— his difficult
utterance, — the gurgling of his voice, as if the blood
impeded. the breath, which made altogether a most
powerfully drawn representation of violent death. Even
those who knew nothing of the cause of their being moved
felt that it was correct.

But let us take a less appalling instance of the consent

EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY. 197

of the frame with the functions of the heart and lungs. It
is this connexion between the muscles of the chest and
arms which makes a little man oppressed by obesity
speak with abrupt gesticulation. His emphatic words are
forced out in barking tones, accompanied by jerks and
twists of the arms, the reverse of grace; while a tall and
ungainly person exhibits an awkwardness of an opposite
kind, in a disjointed swing of his arms during the efforts
of his elocution.

Are we not now authorised to say, that expression is to
passion what language is to thought: that as without
words to represent ideas, the reasoning faculties of man
could not be fully exercised, so there could be no vio-
lence or excess of passion merely in the mind, and in-
dependent of the action of the body? As our thoughts
are embodied and the reasoning powers developed by
the instrument of speech, the passions or emotions have
also a corresponding organ to give them a determined
character and force. The bodily frame, though se-
condary and inferior, comes in aid of the mind; and the
faculties owe their developement as much to the operation
of the instruments of expression as to the impressions of

the outward senses.

It is also curious that expression appears to precede _
the intellectual operations. ‘The smile that dimples an
infant’s cheek, which in after years corresponds with

pleasurable and complex emotions, cannot have its origin
from such ideas. ‘This expression is not first seen when
the infant is awake, but oftener while asleep; and this
first beam of pleasure to a mother’s eye is met with the
cold observation of the wise old women, that it is caused
by some internal convulsion. They conclude that the

198 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

child’s intellects are not yet matured to correspond with
the expression, and attribute the effect to some internal
irritation. The expression is in fact the spontaneous
operation and classification of the muscles, which await
the developement of the faculties to accompany them
closely when they do arise, and in some measure to control
them during life. It may be too much to affirm, that
without the co-operation of these organs of the frame the
mind would remain a blank; but surely the mind must
owe something to its connexion with an operation of
the features which precedes its own conscious activity,
and which is unerring in its exercise from the very
commencement. x

The expression of pain in an infant is extraordinary in
force and caricature ; the expression of laughter is pure in
the highest possible degree, as indicating unalloyed plea-
sure, and it will relax by sympathy even the stubborn fea-
tures of a stranger. Here the rudiments of expression
ought to be studied, for in after life they cease to have
the pure and simple source from which they spring in in-
fancy; the feelings are composed and restrained, the mind
is in a state of more compound feeling, and the genuine cha-
racteristics of passion are to be seen only in unpremeditated
bursts of great vehemence.

How much influence the instrument of expression has
in first rousing the mind into that state of activity which
we call passion or emotion, we may learn from the
power of the body to control these affections. “I have
often observed,” says Burke, “that on mimicking the
looks and gestures of angry, or placid, or frightened, or
daring men, I have involuntarily found my mind turned to
that passion whose appearance I endeavoured to imitate.”

Whether it be possible to mould the body, and thus to

= SE ees eee ————— ——

EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY. 199

steal into another’s thoughts, I know not; but it is of
more consequence to recollect that we may in this way
ascertain our own. As the actions and expressions of the
body betray the emotions of the heart, we may be startled
and forewarned, as it were, by the reflection of ourselves,
and at the same time learn to control our passions by
restraining their expression.

As we hold our breath and throw ourselves into an
opposite action to restrain the ludicrous idea which would
cause us to break out in rude laughter, so may we moderate
other rising impulses, by checking the expression of them;
and by composing the body, we put a rein upon our very
thoughts. The powers of language are so great, and
minister In so superior a manner to reason and the higher
faculties of the mind, that the language of expression,
which attends the developement of these powers, is in a
manner superseded ; good taste and good manners retain
it in habitual subordination. We esteem and honour that
man most who subdues the passions which directly refer
to himself, and cultivates those which have their source in
benevolence — who resists his own gratification, and enters
warmly by sympathy into what others feel — who despises
direct pleasures, and cultivates those enjoyments in which
he participates with others. “Whatever is morally just

is beautiful in art:” the expression of pain, proceeding
from the mere suffering of the body, is repulsive in repre-
sentation, while the heroic pangs which the artist may
raise to the highest degree of expression, in compassion
or sympathy with another’s sufferings, cannot be too
powerfully portrayed, if they be consistent with nature
and truth.

In studying expression the artist should attempt all,
even that which is disagreeable, so that in higher com-

200 EXPRESSION IN REFERENCE TO THE BODY.

position he may avoid deformity and every debasing
expression, and this not by chance, but by knowing them
and avoiding them; by this means — and it was followed
by the ancients — his power of representation will be 1m-
proved, and what is dignified and beautiful in form and

expression more certainly attained.

Re cma RTT SS

ESSAY IX.

OF THE STUDY OF ANATOMY AS NECESSARY TO DESIGN. OF
THE IDEAL, IN THE REPRESENTATION OF THE BODY.

OF THE GENIUS AND STUDIES OF MICHAEL ANGELO

BUONAROTTI.

Were I to attempt a definition of the ideal in the
representation of the body, or of the head and face, I should
adopt, as the most harmless to the sculptor or painter, that

which has heen given by Cicognara. ‘The ideal in art,”
says he, ‘(is nothing more than the imitation of an object
as it ought to be in perfect nature, divested of the errors
or distortions which secondary causes produce.” He takes
for granted that man, like every thing else, has degener-
ated from the original design of nature, and “that we
ought to endeavour to present his form as when he rose a
newly-created being, before misery and famine, cold or
excess of heat, had influence upon his frame. To accom-
plish this, the artist has to contemplate those acknowledged
beauties in the Venus, in the youthful Apollo, in the
vigorous Athlete, and in the Hercules. From such sources
he must select the perfect forms, which are now to be found
no longer im nature, and recompose them into a beautiful
whole.”

202 OF DESIGN.

This is at least intelligible, and, to a certain degree,
practicable. It divests the subject of that mystery which
those throw over it who would persuade the artist that to
represent perfection of form, he must avoid what is human,
and retain what is divine.

But, when this is attained, and the drawing of the
figure is unobjectionable, a higher object still is to be
found, in a deeper meditation on human nature. Senti-
ment and expression may be impressed on the figure, as on
the face; but they must be made appropriate to their
situation. Some of the most beautiful remains of Grecian
art, when deposited in churches, appear out of place ;
while, in the same situation, the statues of Michael An-
gelo seem perfectly congenial. The noble forms and
grave attitudes of his statues, in the sombre light of
the aisles, lead memory back to all that is great in
times gone by. Those magnificent designs have the
effect of a passage in the historian or the poet, when the
reader closes the book to indulge in the associations of
ideas which have been awakened. But, were they placed
in a gallery or saloon, they might with more propriety
be subjected to the flippant criticisms which they have
met with.

Individuals, as well as nations, have different manners
of representing the same objects,—the human figure, for
example. ‘The Egyptians, the Greeks, the people of Hin-
dostan, or of Europe, will raise a monument with more
marked peculiarities than are seen even in the designs of
Michael Angelo, Correggio, and Raphael; care, there-
fore, should be taken to give full scope to different dis-
positions, capacities, or tastes. I cannot help saying, that
the method of study in the academies tends to cramp the
efforts of genius. In the Academy of Bologna I found the

———-— - Sere ers

enema memento nes ce eR r= — Een

STUDIES OF THE ANCIENT ARTISTS. 203

students copying from the plaster casts, as our youths do
at home; and if some means be not afforded to encourage
individual genius, tameness and mediocrity must be the
result. I think the remedy is to be found in the study of
anatomy.

There has been much unnecessary ingenuity exercised
on the question, whether the ancients studied anatomy.
Undoubtedly they did not study it in our fashion; yet that
they possessed all the knowledge of it which art requires,
cannot be denied. ‘The finer specimens of ancient statuary
evince a more perfect acquaintance with anatomy, as far as
it is shewn in the proportions, general forms, and action of
the body, than the productions of those modern sculptors
and painters who have pursued this art with the greatest
zeal and success,——even than Michael Angelo himself.
The only question therefore is, how they acquired this
knowledge.

Although in Greece the dead were burned, and no
artists dissected the human body, yet they certainly had
the means of learning the nature of a bone, muscle, and
tendon. No more was necessary; the rest was before
them. ine as their athletes were in youth, they were
subject to the decay of age. Now, in comparing the frame
of a man advanced in years, especially if in earlier life he
had been remarkable for “thews and sinews,” with the
young and active, every thing essential to the painter and
the sculptor may be observed. If the Greeks had before
them the most admired forms of youth and manhood, they
had also the “time-honoured wrestler,” who in old age ex-
hibited, almost as in the dead anatomy, every muscle, origin
and insertion, every tendon, and every vein. - I know how
far this manner of demonstrating the anatomy may be
carried. Having in my lectures on surgery taken the

>

ES a ee

|

|}

.
|)
9

H
a
f
oT |
Bt) |
oa i}
mi) |
of ae
Ht }
, |
i
i
Ay
\ ia
Rt
ae
at |} |
ied if
Pee iy |
aie
itl
5 tf |
E bi}
ea th |
ma |i |
a |
it
‘aa
}
boa f
fig tt
a }
he ‘
re ti |
P, t
L if
|
}
‘aa
| |
ay
4
my it
| im
ha Hel
|
| {i}
gia
al
H it
ea || |
Bal |} |
:
| F
f
i
lt
4] it
| H
oe |

204 OF THE GENIUS AND STUDIES OF

living man, the academy model, to illustrate the practice
in fractures and dislocations, I was accustomed to in-
troduce a powerful muscular fellow to my class, with this
appeal :— ‘In the exercise of your profession you have to
judge of the displacement of the limbs, and the joints
disfigured by dislocation, fractures, or tumour; but not
one of you, perhaps, has ever looked on the natural body
itself.” In giving these lessons, I became aware how
much -of the structure of the muscles and articulations
might be demonstrated without actual dissection.

In the heat of the southern countries of Europe, the
workmen, the Galeotti, or men condemned to the public
works, the young people and children, are all accustomed
to a state of nudity; the naked form becomes, therefore,
familiar to the eye.

In the same day I made careful examinations of the
anatomical studies of Michael Angelo, in the collection of
the Grand Duke of Florence, and I compared them with
his noble works in the tombs of the Medici. I ob-
served that he had avoided the error of artists of less
genius, who, in shewing their learning, deviate from
living nature. I recognised the utmost accuracy of ana-
tomy in the great artist’s studies; in his pen-and-ink
sketches of the knee, for example, every point of bone,
muscle, tendon, and ligament was marked, and perhaps a
little exaggerated. But on surveying the limbs of those
fine statues, this peculiarity was not visible; there were
none of the details of the anatomy, but only the effects of
muscular action, as seen in life, not the muscles. As,
perhaps, this is the most important lesson which can be
given to the artist, I shall venture to transcribe the notes
I made at the time.

“<The statue of Lorenzo di Medici, Duca d’Urbino, by

MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI. 205

Michael Angelo, is in the Capella di Principi, of the church
of St. Lorenzo. Under the statue are two figures, one of
Twilight, the other of Daybreak. I observed in the male
figure, which is of very grand proportions, the clavicle or
collar-bone, the head of the humerus, the deltoid and
pectoral muscles developed beyond nature, yet singularly
true in the anatomy. Such a shoulder was never seen in
man, yet so finely is it imagined, that no one part is
unduly exaggerated ; but all is magnified with so perfect a
knowledge, that it is just as a whole, the bone and the
muscle corresponding in their proportions. In the same
chapel are the statues of Giuliano di Medici, Duke of
Nemours, and brother of Leo X. with the recumbent
figures of Day and Night. It is in these finely conceived
figures that we have the proof of Michael Angelo’s genius.
They may not have the perfect purity and truth that we
see in the antique; but there is a magnificence, which
belongs to him alone. Here we see the effect of muscular
action, without affected display of anatomical knowledge.
The back is marvellously fine. The position of the
scapula, for example, makes its lower angle throw up the
edge of the latissimus dorsi, for the scapula is forced back
upon the spine, in consequence of the position of the arm.
Michael Angelo must have carefully studied the anatomy
in reference to the changes produced in the living body by
the action of its members: the shifting of the scapula,
with the consequent rising of the mass of muscles, some in

action, some merely pushed into masses, are very finely

shewn.” * |
Having just come from observing his sketches of the

* I might make similar remarks on the statue by John of Bologna,—
Januarius sitting, shivering under a shower, in a fountain in the Villa
Petraia, near Florence.

206 OF THE GENIUS AND STUDIES OF

anatomy of the knee-joint, I was curious in my observation
of the manner in which he made his knowledge available
in the joints of these fine statues; and they gave rise to
the following remarks.

“If an artist, with a knowledge of the structure, should
look upon the knee in a bent position, he will recognise
the different bones and ligaments. But if he look upon it
m an extended position of the limb, or during exertion, he
will not distinguish the same parts. The contour, the
swelling of the integument, and the fulness around the
jomt, are not produced by the forms of the bones, but by
the rising up of the parts displaced by the new position of
the bones. The fatty cushions which are within and ex-
ternal to the knee-joint, and which serve the purpose of
friction-wheels in the play of the bones upon each other,
no longer occupy the same relative places; they are pro-
truded from the depth of the cavity to the surface. How
well Michael Angelo knew this these statues of Day and
Night evince.

‘In these statues, great feeling of art and genius of
the highest order have been exhibited ; anatomical science,
ideal beauty, or rather grandeur, combined. It is often
said that Michael Angelo studied the Belvidere Torso,
and that he kept it continually in his eye. ‘That fine
specimen of ancient art may have been the authority for
his grand developement of the human muscles; but it did
not convey to him the effect which he produced by the
throwing out of those magnificent and giant limbs. Here
we see the vigour of this sculptor’s stroke and the firmness
of his touch, as well as his sublime conception of the
human figure. We can imagine that he wrought by no
measure or mechanical contrivance; that he hewed out
the marble as another would cast together his mass of

SSS

MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI. 207

clay in a first sketch. Many of his finest works are
left unfinished ; it appears that he found the block of
marble in some instances too small, and left the design
incomplete.* For my own part I feel that the finish and
smoothness of the marble is hardly consistent with the
vigour of Michael Angelo’s conceptions; and I should
regret to think that such a genius should have wasted an
hour in giving softness or polish to the surface.

“Who is there, modern or ancient, that would thus
voluntarily encounter all the difficulties of the art and
throw the human body into this position, or who could
throw the shoulder into this violent distortion, and yet
preserve the relations of the parts, of bone and muscle,
with such scientific exactness? We have in this great
master a proof of the manner in which genius submits to
labour, in order to attain perfection. He must have

undergone the severe toil of the anatomist, to acquire such
a power of design, which it was hardly to be supposed could
be sufficiently appreciated then or now.

‘Without denying the beauty or correctness of the

* There is one unfinished production of Michael Angelo which
discloses his manner of working; a statue of St. Matthew, begun on a
block of marble, so small, that it appears to have restrained him. The
figure is distorted, and he seems to have given up the work before it
was more than blocked out of the marble. A contemporary gives an
interesting account of the energy which possessed him while at work.
“‘T have seen Michael Angelo, when above sixty, and not very robust,
make more fragments of the marble fly off in a quarter of an hour than
three vigorous young sculptors would have done in an hour; and he
worked with so much impetuosity, and put such strength into his blows,
that I feared he would have broken the whole in pieces, for portions, the
size of three or four fingers, were struck off so near to the contour or
outline, that, if he erred by a hair's-breadth, he would have spoiled all
and lost his labour, since the defect could not have been remedied as in
”— Blaise de Vigenere.

working in clay.

ie
i || |
a |
|
a
ae
tas

208 OF THE GENIUS AND STUDIES OF

true Grecian productions of the chisel, they ought not to
be contrasted with the works of Michael Angelo to his
disadvantage. He had a noble conception of the august
form of man: to my thinking, superior to any thing ex-
hibited in ancient sculpture. Visconti* imputes infe-
riority to Buonarotti; and to confirm his views, compares
the antique statues restored by him, with the limbs and
heads which he added. But I can conceive nothing less
suited to the genius of the artist than this task of mo-
delling and adjusting a limb in a different position from
that which is entire, and yet so as to preserve the pro-
portions and character of the whole. The manner of his
working and the urgency of his genius for an unrestrained
field of exertion, unfitted him for that kind of labour,
while it is a matter of necessity, that a copy shall be
inferior to an original.

“What the figures of Night and Morning had to do
before the degenerate son of the Medici is another matter.
They seem to have been placed there as mere ornaments,
and in the luxury of talent, to give the form and posture
of the human figure, ‘ per ornamento e per solo spoggio di
giacitura e de’ forme.’

‘When in Rome I was impatient until I stood before
the statue of Moses, so much had been said of its extra-
ordinary merit,t and also so much of its defects.t Itisa
noble figure, with all the energy of Buonarotti displayed in
it. Itis not the anatomy alone which constitutes its perfec-
tion; but there is the same mind displayed in the attitude,

* Museo Pio. Clem.

+ “Questo e Mosé quando scenda del monte
E gran parte del Nume avea nil volto.”

{ ‘“E una testa da satiro con capelli di porco.”

TE oes,
TERR it cr a 2 RIT Se

MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI. 209

the habiliment, the beard, and all the accompaniments, as
in the vigour of the naked shoulders and arms. It is the
realisation of his high conception of the human figure.

«« My brother, in his ‘Observations on Italy,’ finds
fault with the arm, and, perhaps, looking in one direction,
it may be imperfect; but this was one of many figures
which were intended by the artist to ornament the great
monument to Julius II.; and, consequently, designed to be
seen only in a certain aspect.* Besides, we ought rather
to teach ourselves to admire what is esteemed excellent
than to seek for defects. As to other criticisms on this
statue, it should be remembered that it is an ideal figure
as much as the Apollo or the Jupiter. From whatever
notion derived, Moses is represented with horns rising
from his temples; an adjunct which, placed either on the
face of the antique or of common nature, would have been

truly ridiculous.”

To resume the subject of anatomy, we may take the
opinion of Vasari:+ in addition to the study of the
antique he recommends the frequent examination of the
naked figure, of the action of the muscles of the back and
limbs, and the form and play of the joints; and takes
occasion to advise the study of the dissected body, in order
to see the true position of the muscles, their classification
and insertions; so that by perfect knowledge of the
structure the artist may with more security represent the
figure in every varying attitude, bestowing, through a
knowledge of their action, the proper swelling and contour
of the muscles, according to their position and the force
exerted; and from this, he truly observes, comes the

* See the account of this great work in the “ Storia della Scultura,”

by Cicognara.
+ In his Preface, “‘ Da che habbia origine il buon disegno.”

210 ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE MUSCLES.

power of invention, giving natural variety to the figures, as
in the representation of a battle or great historical work.

And here I cannot help expressing a belief that, as it
is necessary that the young artist should have an accurate
eye to form, the drawing of the bones should be’ sub-
stituted for what is called the “round,” that is, the fine
indefinite and undulating surface of the antique. By
drawing the curious shapes of the thigh-bone or tibia, he
will sooner acquire a notion of external form than if set to
draw a foot and ankle, or knee, without an idea of what
produces the convexities which he is tracing. Drawing
from the bones and from the skeleton will give him a
desire for learning more, and afford an introduction to the
classification and insertions of the muscles, with perfect
ease in representing, either from nature or the antique, the
slightly defined forms of the joints.

But, as we have seen in the works of the masters, let

him avoid exhibiting the anatomy or displaying his know-
ledge, else he will fall into the caricature of Fuseli, instead
of attaining the vigour of Buonarotti. Anatomy is not to
be displayed, but its true use is to beget an accurate
observation of nature in those slighter characteristics which
escape a less learned eye.

ESSAY X.

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER—FAULTS INTO WHICH
ARTISTS MAY BE BETRAYED IN STUDYING THE ANTIQUE
OR IN DRAWING FROM THE ACADEMY FIGURE—ANATOMY
AS CONDUCTING TO TRUTH OF EXPRESSION AND OF
CHARACTER.

Ir is interesting in a very high degree to mark the
traits of emotion, and to compare them with the anatomical
structure ; and amidst the severer studies of anatomy, as
connected with health and disease, I have been able,
without departing too far from professional pursuits and
duties, to pass many pleasant hours in observing and
Investigating the anatomy of expression. In the prosecu-
tion of anatomy we never know to what results it may lead.
The observations I have made on the nervous system
might be traced to investigations on the present subject. I
saw that the whole frame is affected sympathetically with
expression in the countenance; and it was in trying to
explain that sympathy, that I was led to ascertain, that
there exists in the body a distinct system of nerves, the
office of which is to influence the muscles in Respiration,
in Speech, and in Expression.

The study of the animal frame, as it is affected by

Y

212 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER,

emotion and passion, is nearly related to philosophy, and
is a subject of great difficulty and delicacy. The question
is often discussed, of what use is anatomy to the painter?
The study of anatomy has been objected to by some persons
of pure taste, from the belief that it leads to the representa-
tion of the lineaments of death more than of life, or to
monstrous exaggerations of the forms. So far this is the
case, when an artist without natural talent, or right feeling,
will rather exhibit the bones or muscles than the fine
forms of health and vigour. But we return to the question,
what are the advantages to be gained from this study by
the artist? As we may define anatomy to be the examina-
tion of that structure by which the mind expresses emo-
tion, and through which the emotions are controlled and
modified, it introduces us to the knowledge of the relations
and mutual influences which exist between the mind and
the body. To the painter, therefore, the study is neces-
sarily one of great importance; it does not teach him to
use his pencil, but it teaches him to observe nature, to see
forms in their minute varieties, which but for the principles
here elucidated would pass unnoticed,— to catch expressions
so evanescent that they must escape him, did he not know
their sources. It is this reducing of things to their prin-
ciples which elevates his art into a connexion with philo-
sophy, and which gives it the character of a liberal art.

By anatomy in its relation to the arts of design, I under-
stand not merely the study of the individual and dissected
muscles of the face, or body, or limbs,—but the observa-
tion of all the characteristic varieties which distinguish the
frame of the body or countenance. A knowledge of the
peculiarities of infancy, youth, or age; of sickness or
robust health; or of the contrasts between manly and
muscular strength and feminine delicacy; or of the ap-

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. 913

pearances which pain or death present, belongs to its
province as much as the study of the muscles of the face
when affected in emotion. Viewed in this comprehensive
light, anatomy forms a science, not only of great interest,
but one which will be sure to give the artist a true spirit
of observation, teach him to distinguish what is essential
to just expression, and direct his attention to appearances
on which the effect and force, as well as the delicacy of his
delineations, will be found to depend.

Among the errors into which a young artist is most
likely to be seduced, there are two against which the study
of anatomy seems well calculated to guard him. The one
is a blind and indiscriminate imitation of the antique; the
other, an idea that he will find in the academy figure a
sure guide for delineating the natural and true anatomy of
the living body. He who makes imitation of the antique
the beginning and end of his studies, instead of adopting it
as a corrective of his taste, will be apt to fall into a tame
and lifeless style; and, in pursuing ideal beauty, will be in
danger of renouncing truth of expression and of character.
Nay, I suspect that many painters have copied casts of the
antique for years, without perfectly understanding what
they should imitate, or even perceiving the necessity of
previously studying the design of the artist, or the pecu-
liarities of his mode of composition. Into this fault, one
who is learned in the science and anatomy of painting can
never fall. But he who has not compared the natural with the
antique head, nor understood the characteristic differences,
nor studied the principle on which the ancient artists com-
posed, may be betrayed into the grossest misconceptions,
by too implicitly following their models. In painting a
hero, for example, on whom the Greek artist would have
bestowed a character of strength and grandeur, by bold

214 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

anatomy and expression, he may be following the ideal
form of a deity in which the sculptor had studiously
divested his model of all that might seem to pertain to
humanity. As I have before remarked, the ancient sculptor,
im accordance with the mythology of his country and the
spirit of her poetry, studied to shew the attributes of
divinity in the repose of the figure, without any indication
of muscles or veins, and by a face stamped with the mild
serenity of a being superior to human passion; thus
shadowing out a state of existence, in which the will
possessed freedom and activity, without the accompanying
exertion of the bodily frame. But those ideal forms are
scarcely ever to be transferred to the representation of the
human body; and a modern artist who follows indis-
criminately such models, misapplies the noblest lessons of
his art.

Independently of the ideal form of divinity, there are
also some peculiarities in the nature of the ancient sculp-
ture which ought to be well considered by the student in
modern painting. |

: In the infancy of their art, sculptors did not venture
¥ to give to their figures either animation or character ; they
did not even open their eyelids, or raise the arm from the
side. A stillness and simplicity of composition were thus
the characteristics of ancient sculpture ; and we are told
that Pericles, even in the best period of Grecian art, was
anxious that his pupils should preserve this feature of the
early ages in all their works, as essential to grandeur. The
pleasure of being carried back to old times seems to be a
part of our nature, or, at least, of the cultivated mind. So
Pliny speaks of retaining in every thing about a villa its
ancient simplicity. It is observed accordingly, that among
the excellencies which distinguish the Greek artists, the

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. Q15

first and most admirable is that gravity of style, —that
sedate grandeur of expression, and prevailing tranquil-
lity of soul which still appear under the most terrible
agitation and passion. Upon this chaste model the taste
in sculpture was formed in the better ages of Greece and
Rome, and its influence has extended to modern times.
Unfortunately this style of composition has been taken
as an additional authority for rejecting powerful ex-
pression and character even from the canvass. But, we
must never forget the distinction between sculpture and
painting. ‘The statuary, indeed, as well as the painter, has

often to represent what is not consistent with beauty; while
both must sometimes preserve an indefiniteness, and soften
all the harsher, though strictly natural lines of expression.
If the statues of Michael Angelo and John of Bologna
were as familiar to us as the casts of the antique, they
would probably modify the prevailing opinions on this

subject. Still there is an essential difference between the
principle of composition in painting and in sculpture.

In the works of ancient artists we see a perpetual effort
to exalt their productions above the commonness of nature.
They studied a grand and general effect, avoiding the
representation of minuteness or sharpness of feature, and
of convulsions or distortions, however strictly natural ;
and, indeed, it is scarcely consistent with the character
of a statue to represent the transitory effects of violent
passion. The sculptor must exercise his genius on the
more sublime and permanent feelings, as characterised in
the countenance and figure; and much of the difficulty
of his art consists in preventing the repose which ought
to be preserved in the attitude and expression, from ex-
tinguishing all character, and degenerating into tameness
and indifference.

- TE TRL OE NTE PET ai
= - oace —— ne ~ meres

o*

ge

216 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

It is repose, and not absence of expression, that is to be
aimed at. ‘The flashes of passion do not assort with the
material, while the languor and the gloom of the features
in grief are quite consistent with it. The slaves and mutes
on the pedestal of a monumental statue may contribute to
the effect: they are mere accessories,—as the frame to the
picture. But this principle does not apply to the painter ;
to transfer to his art the rules of composition which flow
from the study of ancient sculpture would endanger all in
which it is most excellent. As his materials do not permit
a close imitation of the actual forms of nature, a stronger,
and more natural character is to be adopted on the canvass,
than is proper toa statue. It is true, that he may often
maintain much of the same gravity of style as the statuary,
and that in such compositions there may be a certain
august majesty; some subjects require this, and others
only admit of it, provided the tone and principle of com-
position be preserved, and the colouring be low and sombre.
In general, however, this is neither necessary, nor perhaps
suitable to a picture; and it may be at least laid down,
that where there is bold light and vivid colouring, there
should also be strong expression, and bold characteristic
drawing. A painting, with high finishing and bright
colouring, demands minute expression, because the same
circumstances which display the natural colour, bring out
a clear disclosure of the parts, and a sharpness of expression
in the features.

Thus the painter must study the traits of human ex-
pression. ‘The noblest aim of painting is unquestionably
to affect the mind, which can only be done by the repre-
sentation of sentiment and passion,— of emotion as indicated
by the figure and the countenance. But, if it be contended
that an imposing stillness and tranquillity must pervade

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. Q1y

the higher subjects of painting, I venture to affirm that it
is a tranquillity which he can never attain who is not
capable of representing all the violence and agitation of
passion. It is not such repose as the artist who has
despised or neglected natural character may be able to
represent, but such as he alone can conceive and execute,
who has studied all the variety of expression, and learned
the anatomy of the face and limbs in their most violent
action. Nay, tranquillity or repose, in the strict sense of
the words, can only be truly represented by one who can
with equal facility give energy to the features and figure ;
for in rest there must be character, and that character will
best be expressed by him who has studied the effect of the
action of the muscles. It ought also to be remembered
that repose and agitation must ever greatly depend on con-
trast and opposition. ‘There are few grand subjects in
history or mythology, in which the tranquillity and higher
beauty of expression in the main figure does not borrow
some aid from the contrast of the harsher features, more
marked characters, and more passionate gestures of the
surrounding groups.

Perhaps I have sufficiently pointed out how dangerous
it is for one who aims at excelling as a painter to imitate
too closely and indiscriminately the productions of ancient
sculpture. But it is natural for the student to believe that
the study of the academy figure may serve as a guard
against all such danger; and afford hima sure criterion
for judging of the anatomy of his figures.

Where is the artist to find the principles of his art
when he desires to express mental suffering under all those
influences which form the subjects of design in the higher
departments of art, and especially in historical painting ; is
he to grimace at himself in a’ mirror ?—then he falls into

218 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

caricature: is he to study the expression of the actor ?—
then he represents what is fantastic and theatrical. For what
may be correct representation on the stage is not correct in
painting, any more than it would be correct for the tragedian
to display on the stage those traits of expression with which
the physician is alone supposed to be familiar. Powers of
observation, cultivated by good taste, lead us to distinguish
what is appropriate. The physician in studying symptoms,
the actor in personifying suffering, the painter in repre-
senting it, or the statuary in embodying it in marble, are
observers of nature; but each sees her differently, and with
a feeling influenced by his pursuit.

The study of the academy figure is, undoubtedly,
essential; but unless followed with some regard to science,
it necessarily leads to error. In the first place, it can give
no aid in reference to the countenance. Here the lessons
of anatomy, associated with the descriptions of the great
poets, and the study of the works of eminent painters and
sculptors, afford the only resource. But even for attaining
a correct knowledge of the body and limbs, the academy
figure is far from being an infallible guide. The display
of muscular action in the human figure is but momentary,
and cannot be retained and fixed for the imitation of the
artist. ‘The effect produced upon the surface of the body
and limbs by the action of the muscles—the swelling and
receding of the fleshy parts, and that starting out of the
sinews or tendons, which accompany exertion or change of
posture, cannot be observed with sufficient accuracy, unless
the artist is able to class the muscles engaged in the action;
and he requires some other guide to enable him to recollect
these varying forms, than that which is afforded by a
transitory view of them.

When the academy figure first strips himself, there is

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. 219

a symmetry and accordance in all the limbs; but when
screwed up into a posture, they indicate constraint and
want of balance. It cannot be supposed that when a man
has the support of ropes to preserve him in a position of
exertion, the same action of muscles can be displayed as if
the limbs were supported by their own efforts; hence in
all academy drawings, we may perceive something wrong,
from the ropes not being represented along with the figure.
In natural action there is a consent and symmetry in every
part. When a man clenches his fist in passion, the other
arm does not lie in elegant relaxation; when the face is
stern and vindictive, there is energy in the whole frame;
when a man rises from his seat in impassioned gesture, a
certain tension and straining pervades every limb and
feature. This universal state of the body it is difficult to
excite in those who are accustomed to sit to painters ; they
watch his eye, and where they see him intent, they exert
the muscles. The painter, therefore, cannot trust to the
man throwing himself into a natural posture; he must
direct him, and be himself able to catch, as it were in-
tuitively, what is natural and reject what is constrained.
Besides, those soldiers and mechanics who are employed as
academy figures are often awkward and unwieldy; hard
labour, or the stiff habits of military training, have impaired
the natural and easy motion of their joints. |
Until the artist has gained a perfect knowledge of the
muscles, and is able to represent them in action without
losing the general balance of the figure, he is apt to pro-
duce an appearance like spasm or cramp in the limbs, from
one part being in action, while the other is in repose.
For it is always to be remembered, that whether the body
be alive or dead, whether the limbs be in action or relaxed
in sleep, an uniform character must pervade the composi-
Z

220 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

tion. Whether the gently undulating line of relaxed
muscle be the prevailing outline, or the parts be large and
strong, and the muscles prominent, bold, and turgid, there
must be perfect accordance, or there will be no truth of
expression.

I think, that in the sketches, and even in the finished
paintings of some artists, I have observed the effect of con-
tinuing to draw from the model or from the naked figure,
without due attention to the regulated action of the muscles.
I have seen paintings, where the grouping was excellent
and the proportions exact, yet the figures stood in attitudes
when they were meant to be in action; they were fixed as
statues, and communicated to the spectator no idea of
exertion or of motion. ‘This sometimes proceeds, I have
no doubt, from a long-continued contemplation of the
antique, but more frequently from drawing after the still
and spiritless academy figure. ‘The knowledge of anatomy
is necessary to correct this; but chiefly, a familiar acquaint-
ance with the classification of the muscles, and the pecu-
liarities and effect of their action.

The true use of the living figure is this ;—after the
artist has studied the structure of the bones and the group-
ings of the muscles, he should observe attentively the play
of the muscles and tendons when the body is thrown into
action and attitudes of violent exertion ;—he should espe-
cially mark their changes during the striking out of the
limbs. By such a course of observation he will soon be
able to distinguish between posture and action, and to
avoid that tameness which results from neglecting the
effects of the alternate contraction and relaxation of the
muscles. And with this view, after having learned to draw
the figure, the painter would do well to make the model go
through the exercise of pitching the bar, or throwing, or

USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. oo

striking. He will then find that it is chiefly when straining
in a fixed posture that there is a general tension and equal
prominence of the muscles; and that in the free actions of
the limbs, a few muscles only swell out, while their oppo-
nents are relaxed and flattened. He will not, perhaps, be
able at once to catch the character of muscular expression,
and commit it to paper; but having an accurate knowledge
of the muscles, according to their uses, and the effect of
each action in calling particular sets of them into activity,
knowing to what points his observation should be applied,
and how his preconceived notions are to be corrected by
the actual appearance of the limb, each succeeding exhibi-
tion of muscular exertion will advance his progress in the
delineation of the figure. Hence it may well be said, that
anatomy is the true basis of the arts of design; and it will
infallibly lead those to perfection who, favoured with
genius, can combine truth and simplicity with the higher
graces and charms of the art. It bestows on the painter a
minuteness and readiness of observation, which he cannot
otherwise attain; and I am persuaded, that while it enables
him to give vigour to the whole form, it teaches him to
represent niceties of expression, which would otherwise
pass unnoticed.

Even in drawing from a particular model, the artist
versed in anatomy has a great superiority. When I have
seen one unacquainted with the internal structure, drawing
from the naked figure or from a statue, I have remarked
the difficulty which he experienced in shewing the course
of a swelling muscle or the slight depressions and con-
vexities about a joint; and this difficulty might be traced to
his ignorance of the relations and actions of the muscles.
The same perplexity he often feels in drawing the knobbed
ends of the bones or the insertions of the tendons, at the

222 USES OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

articulations ; for these parts being covered over by the in-
teguments, and cushions of fat of variable thickness, and
sheathed in membranes, are but faintly marked on the
surface. ‘The delicate and less definite indications of the
anatomy, though easily traced by one acquainted with the
structure of the limb, appear to the uninformed only un-
meaning variations in the outline; he has no means of
judging of their importance, and he is subject to continual
mistakes in attempting to imitate them.

Suppose that a young artist, not previously grounded
im anatomy, is about to sketch a figure or a limb, his
execution will be feeble, and he will commit many errors if

he endeavours merely to copy what is placed before him —

to transcribe, as it were, a language which he does not
understand. He sees an undulating surface, with the
bones and processes of the joints faintly marked; he
neglects the peculiar swelling of the muscles, to which
he should give force, as implying motion; he makes
roundings merely; he is incapable of representing the
elegant curved outline of beauty, with decision and ac-
curacy, and of preserving at the same time the cha-
racters of living action. Drawing what he does not.
understand, he falls into tameness or deviates into
caricature.

But with a knowledge of anatomy, if he attempt the
same task, his acquaintance with the skeleton will enable
him to make his first outline of the figure with truth
and ease, and preserve its various proportions ; and the
study of the muscles will enable him to give force to
the muscular parts, and to represent the joints accurately
without exaggeration.

It is, however, in composing, much more than in
copying, that this knowledge is truly useful. Without it,

USE OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. 293

all the original efforts of genius must be checked and
repressed. Every change of posture is accompanied with
muscular action, and in proportion to the painter’s ig-
norance of the cause of those changes, all his designs will
be cramped and restrained. Leonardo da Vinci gives
formally, as a precept, what is self-evident to an anatomist:
“In naked figures, those members must shew their muscles
most distinctly and boldly, upon which the greatest stress
is laid; in comparison with which the rest must appear
enervate.” ‘* Remember, further, to make the muscles
most visible on that side of any member which it puts
forward to action.” Such rules and precepts are rather
the result of anatomical study than useful to one ignorant
of the subject, in pointing out how effect is to be produced.
It is not by following such recommendations that the end
is to be accomplished, but by enriching the mind with
frequent observation of the changes which are displayed by
action, and forming rules for their representation. For
example, in vigorous action there is a general tension of
the whole frame; but in order to produce a particular
motion, a certain class of muscles is brought into stronger
action than the rest; and the nature of the motion is
expressed by marking the arrangement of the muscles. If
a man be merely pointing upwards, a graceful simplicity
may be all that the painter can attain, or should attempt ;
but if he is bringing down a heavy sword to make a
blow, the muscles will start into strong exertion, and the
idea of mighty action will be conveyed by representing
those swelling muscles of the chest which pull down the
arm and give the sweep to the whole body. ‘Thus, to
compose with truth and force, it is necessary that the
painter should not only know the place and form of the
bones and muscles, but that he should also have an

Q24, USE OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

accurate conception of the classing of the muscles in
action.*

Perhaps I may best convey my idea of the advantage
to be derived from this study, by contrasting two young
artists drawing from a figure; the one trusting to his
untutored genius, the other assisted by a knowledge of
anatomy. ‘The first is seen copying bit by bit, and mea-
suring from point to point; and the effect, after much
labour, is an accurate outline. The other seizes the chief
characters of the attitude with facility ; because his know-
ledge of the skeleton has enabled him to balance the trunk
upon the limbs, and give the contours boldly. The turn of

* “Socrates one day paid a visit to Clito, the statuary, and in the
course of conversation said to him, ‘We all know, Clito, that you
execute a variety of figures; some in the attitude of the race, and others
in the several exercises of wrestling, of pugilism, and of the pancratium ;
but with regard to the quality which particularly captivates the soul of
the spectator,— I mean their correct resemblance to the life,— how is
this property wrought into your productions?’ As Clito hesitated for a
reply, Socrates quickly rejoins, ‘Is it not by endeavouring to imitate the
configuration of the bodies of those who are actually engaged in those
exertions of skill and activity that you succeed?’ ‘Without doubt,’ said
the artist. ‘ Well, then,’ resumed the philosopher, ‘ you study, under the
various gestures and attitudes of the living body, what parts are drawn
up out of their natural situation, or carried in a contrary direction ~
below it. Some which undergo compression, others an unnatural ele-
vation; some which are thrown into a state of extension, others which
become relaxed; all this you imitate, and hence you produce that
fidelity, that accuracy, which we admire.’ The artist acquiesced in the
remark. ‘And the expression of the passions, again, — how great a
pleasure does this produce to the spectator?’ ‘Surely,’ replied Clito.
‘ Thus those who are in the actual conflict of the battle, are they not to
be represented as bearing menaces in their eyes, while satisfaction and
joy should sit upon the countenances of the victorious?’ ‘ Unquestion-
ably.’ ‘It is then equally the business of the statuary to transfuse into
his productions the workings and emotions of the mind.—XENopHoN:
Memorabilia, Lib. iii. cap. x. p. 6.

USE OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. ro

the limbs, the masses of muscle, and the general forms of
the joints, are touched with a slight but accurate hand,
and the spirit and life of the original are recognised at
once, Even in the early stage of his drawing, while his
rival is copying parts, he will present the foundation of
a correct and spirited sketch; and as he can convey the
general idea by a few lines, he also excels in finishing the
minute parts.

But this superiority is still better shewn if the model
be removed from these two young painters, and they draw
the figure from recollection; or if, keeping the model
before them in its original posture, they are required to
alter the attitude. Let us take for example the fighting
gladiator. Instead of a young warrior pushing on with
great energy, let their task be to represent him receiving
the blow of his antagonist, which forces down his shield
upon his breast, or brings him with his knee to the
ground, as it is beautifully represented on some medals.
Can we doubt for a moment which will excel? The one
will copy from memory his original drawing, or with great
difficulty twist the erect limbs of the statue into a couching
posture, while the other will gain by his greater freedom.
Retaining the general air, like one who had understood
what he copied, he is aware that a new class of muscles
comes into action, while those formerly in exertion are
relaxed; he knows that the bending of the limbs increases
their measurements; he knows how to represent the
joints in their new postures; in short, he gives to his
figure energy and effect.

It is a mistake to suppose that, because in many of the
finest pictures the anatomy is but faintly indicated, the
study may not be necessary to a painter. Even that which
in the finished picture is intended merely to give the idea of

| |
i
Pe TAY
bat!
1) oth
i
1
1 ii
i
} 1
]
Lv
ayy
Pe tke
1B
|
4
4 Me
j |
17
hh
ii
ie his Gt
aay
any
4}
i}
ayia
4
ai
;
;

226 USE OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER.

muscular exertion, should have its foundation laid in the
sketch, by a correct and strong drawing of the full action.
It is true, that the sketch is too often a mere indication of
the painter’s design, intended to be worked up to the
truth of representation as he transfers it to the canvass,—
that the outlines of the figures are rather shadowy forms,
undefined in their minute parts, than studies of anatomical
expression, or as guides in the subsequent labour. And,
perhaps, it is for this reason that there have been many
painters, whose sketches all admire, but whose finished
paintings fall short of public expectation. But a sketch
which is without vigour, and in which the anatomy has
not been defined, is a bad foundation for a good picture ;
and even a little exaggeration in this respect is not only
agreeable, but highly useful. The anatomy should be
strongly marked in the original design; and from the
dead colouring to the finishing, its harshness and rugged-
ness should be gradually softened into the modesty of
nature. The character of a sketch is spirit and life; the
finished painting must combine smoothness and accuracy.
That which was a harsh outline in the sketch, or the
strong marking of a swelling muscle, or the crossing of a
vein, will be indicated in the finished composition, perhaps
only by a tinge of colour. The anatomy of the finished
picture will always be most successful, and even most
delicate, where the painter has a clear conception of the
course and swelling of each muscle and vein which enters
into the delineation of the action.

While artists neglect the study of anatomy, as con-
nected with character and expression in painting, they
never can attain the “ vantage ground” of their profession.
Perhaps it is also to be feared, that while only a few
artists are versed in this science, they will be apt to

USE OF ANATOMY TO THE PAINTER. ey

caricature nature; they are learned above their rivals; it
is their forte, and they are solicitous to display it. But
were the study of anatomy more general, the same spirit
and love of originality, which tempt them to a style
bordering on deformity, would make those very men seek
distinction by combining grace, and the other qualities of
fine paintimg, with truth and expression.

It is not enough, however, that the painter should im-
prove himself in the knowledge of anatomy: public
attention must also be directed to its importance. For
as necessity precedes invention in the origin of the
arts, so must general good taste precede or accompany
their improvement. ‘The mere conviction in the mind of
the painter, that anatomy is essential to the perfection of
his art, will seldom be sufficient to insure his application
to a very difficult and somewhat repulsive study. The
knowledge and opinion of the public must force him to
the task, and encourage his labour by the assurance of its
merited reward.

PX
inca]
am
Z,
ea
joey
Ry
—

APPENDIX.

ON THE
NERVOUS SYSTEM.

BY

ALEXANDER SHAW.

In many parts of this volume references are made to an
Essay upon the Nervous System; and such an essay was con-
tained in the last edition: but it was found that the author had
drawn his pen through that essay, and had left nothing new to
supply its place. It cannot be doubted that he intended to
recompose that part of his work; and as some account of his
observations on the nervous system bearing upon the questions
here discussed may be interesting, I have been requested to give
a short review of his opinions. I enter upon the task with
feelings of great diffidence.

It is stated, in various parts of the essays, that a distinct class
of nerves is provided in the human body for controlling the organ
of respiration ; and that it is this class which is principally affected
by passion and emotion, so as to give rise to the phenomena of
expression.

The organ of breathing is so constructed in man, that besides
ministermg to the oxygenation of the blood, its primary office in

239 OF THE NERVES.

the economy, it is the instrument of voice and of expression,—two
properties which bear relation to his intellectual nature. The
apparatus required for adapting the organ of breathing to those
superadded endowments, is altogether different from that which
is found in the lower animals, where the organ is subservient
only to the purification of the blood: and as a correspondence
must exist between the structure of the different moving parts of
the frame, and the nervous system, which regulates the actions of
the body, the change in the construction of the organ is accom-
panied with a change in the arrangement of the nerves. Accord-
ingly the author of this volume found, by comparing the nervous
system as it exists in inferior animals, with its order and distribu-
tion in man, that a distinct class of nerves is appropriated in the
human frame to the organ of respiration: and to that class he gave
the name respiratory nerves.

But this conclusion was not arrived at till many other important
observations had been previously made by the author on the
functions of the nervous system. Medical science has been in-
debted to him for improvements in this branch of physiology,
only to be compared, for their extent and value, with those intro-
duced by Harvey by his discovery of the circulation of the
blood. Although no parts of the living body have excited
greater interest, since anatomy was first studied, than the brain
and the nerves; yet when Sir Charles Bell entered upon his
researches into this subject, he found it involved in so much

confusion, and surrounded by so many difficulties apparently in-
surmountable, that physiologists had almost ceased to prosecute
it. Errors on points which bore on the first elements of the

inquiry had taken deep root. He succeeded in removing these
errors, and in establishing an entirely new principle of investi-
gation; by adopting which, as his guide, he was rewarded not
only by making discoveries of the utmost value to medicine
himself, but by communicating a fresh impulse to the labours of
other physiologists in the same field.

The error which formerly prevailed, and had the greatest
effect in retarding improvement, was this: — It was taken for
granted that all parts of the nervous system had certain general

OF THE NERVES.

properties belonging to them in common; so that all were
considered alike in function. The brain, including the spinal
marrow, was looked upon as a common store, from which
certain powers, such as that of motion, were issued to the body,
and into which others, such as sensation, were received, the
nerves being regarded as the conductors; and, in conformity
with that view, it was further supposed that any part of the
brain, or any single nerve, had an equal power with all the rest,
of bestowing the numerous properties commonly assigned to the
nervous system. For the sake of illustration, let us take the
nerves of the lower extremities. These come off from the spinal
marrow. Now it was conceived that they were all simple in
structure; and that each had the power of conferring motion on
the limbs, and at the same time of giving sensation; and that
the spmal marrow from which they arise, being a prolongation
of the brain, had these two functions combined promiscuously
in all its parts.

It is not difficult to explain how these mistaken views ori-
ginated. In the first place, when we look to a nerve, there is
nothing visible in the structure of the fibrils of which it consists
to lead us to suppose that one set possesses different functions
from the others: they are all exactly alike in size, colour, and
consistence, and are held together in the same manner, in one
common investing membrane or sheath. In the second place,
although the brain is subdivided into numerous masses of dif.
ferent forms and dimensions, so as to give the appearance at
first sight of its consisting of many separate organs, yet an
uniformity prevails in its general structure, and the distinct sub-
stances of which it is formed are so diffused and intermingled with
each other, that it seems as if its functions must be common and
possessed equally by all its parts. Again, the phenomena of
certain. diseases and accidents, occurring almost daily, must have
strengthened these erroneous opinions. When the trunk of a
nerve, in its course along one of the extremities, is cut across in
a wound, the lower part of the limb thus isolated from the brain
is deprived at once both of motion and sensation: if the spinal
marrow be crushed or wasted by disease, total paralysis ensues ;

I34 OF THE NERVES.

that is, the limbs lose motion and sensation conjointly. When a
man is struck down by apoplexy from a sudden effusion of blood
into the brain, numbness or insensibility accompanies the loss of
motion. These circumstances taken together were all likely to
mislead, and may account for the error mentioned above having
held its place so long.

After Sir Charles Bell began to investigate the subject, it
soon occurred to him that great inconsistencies were involved in
the opinions generally maintained. One of the difficulties which
struck him most was the following :— When we suppose a nerve
in the act of exciting a muscle to contract, it necessarily implies
that the stimulus by which it produces that effect travels out-
wardly,— that it originates in the brain, and is conveyed ex-
ternally along the fibrils of the nerve to the muscle. But when
we suppose a nerve in the act of giving rise to a sensation, it
implies that the impression which occasions the sense is first
communicated to the extremity of the nerve expanded upon
the skin, and is then conveyed inwardly till it arrives at the
sensorium. Hence the peculiar influence which causes muscular
action travels in one direction; and that which causes sensation,
in exactly the opposite direction: and it seemed impossible to the
author that they could both be conducted by the same nerve.

The fundamental principle, which may be looked upon as
the origin of all the author’s important discoveries, was thus
announced. “The nerves of the body possess distinct and appro-
priate functions, corresponding with the parts of the brain and
spinal marrow with which they are connected at their roots ;
and when a nerve, which appears simple, is found to bestow
more than one endowment, it is a sign that that nerve has more
than one origin from the brain, and consists in reality of several
nerves joined together.”

The mode in which this principle was demonstrated and
established as a law in physiology, was the following :—

The author first directed his attention to the nerves of the
organs of the senses. These nerves were formerly conceived to
be allied so closely to each other, that the functions belonging
to them were regarded rather as modifications of one common

OF THE NERVES. 935

property, than distinet and specific; hence it was supposed that
the nerve of one organ could be the substitute for the nerve of |
another organ, if transposed to that organ: for example, it was
believed that the optic nerve, on which vision depends, could
bestow sensation or pain, like a nerve of the skin. But the
author proved this to be incorrect, and that each nerve is
limited to receiving a distinct impression, appropriated to it ex-
clusively. Thus the nerve of vision can only give ideas of light
and colour;* the nerve of hearing, impressions of sound; the
nerve of smelling, the perception of odours; and so on. He
further shewed that these special properties depended on
each of the nerves arising from a distinct portion of the brain
provided for receiving its own peculiar impression. This fact
could not be easily demonstrated by referring to .the human
brain alone, where the structure is complicated to the greatest
degree, owing to the organs of sense and the intellectual
capacities related to them, having reached their highest point
of developement; but it could be satisfactorily made out with
the assistance of comparative anatomy. When we examine
the lowest classes of animals, it is not found that they have
the same number of organs of sense which belong to the
higher. On the contrary, the organs are bestowed gradually,
one after another, in correspondence with the progressive
advancement of the creatures in the scale of animal existence ;
and it is further observed, that the part of their nervous
system, recognised as similar to the brain, becomes more com-
plex in proportion as the organs multiply. Each nerve can be
traced at first into a little ganglion or accumulation of nervous
substance, which is concluded to be the source of its particular

* He illustrated this fact in the following manner :— Pressure applied to
the surface of the eye, between the eyelids, gives rise to pain more acute than
that felt in the skin generally, but still of a similar kind; while the same degree
of pressure applied to the ball of the eye, so as to affect the retina within,
produces the appearance of a halo of differently coloured light before the eye,
or a totally different kind of sensation from the former. In couching for ca-
taract, the needle, when piercing the outer part of the eye, gives rise to pain,—
to a sensation like that of pricking the skin ; when it transfixes the retina, an
appearance, as if a spark of fire had entered the eye, is produced.

BB

236 OF THE NERVES.

power: they increase in number as the organs increase; and
they become larger and more complicated in organisation in
proportion as the organs are more perfectly developed, and the
animal more elevated in its position. These ganglions are called
after the organs of sense, over which they are supposed to pre-
side; and hence they get the names of optic ganglions or lobes,
olfactory lobes, auditory lobes, &e. This was the first step taken
by the author to shew that the nerves possess distinct functions,
and that they obtain these from being connected with subdivisions
of the brain, which have also distinct endowments.

The next stage in his progress was marked by more striking
results. His object was now to explain the cause of the nerves,
which are distributed to the body generally, having the double
property of giving motor power to the muscles and sensation to
the skin.

The way in which he proceeded was this. He took the dif-
ferent nerves known to possess these two functions, and traced
them to their roots in the brain. It has been already noticed,
that when we examine a nerve situated in a limb, it is found to
consist of numerous fibrils, all similar in structure, and held
together by a common membraneous sheath; no indication ap-
pearing of one set having different functions from the others.
But if we follow the nerve in its course towards the spinal
marrow or brain, we shall find that, as it approaches either of
these organs, and before it terminates, it subdivides into two
distinct roots— one of which can be traced into a division of
nervous substance distinct from the other, and one of which is
further distinguished by having a swelling upon it, called a
ganglion, which the other has not.

Now Sir Charles Bell was led by this observation of the
anatomy to suppose that each of these roots had a distinct
function; that one bestowed the power of motion and the other
sensation; and that the reason why the whole nerve possessed
both of these properties was, that it consisted of two distinct
nerves joined together. He proceeded, therefore, to verify this
opinion by experiment; and he confirmed it by the most satis-
factory evidence. He shewed that the root which passes to the

OF THE NERVES. O37

posterior part of the spinal marrow, and has a ganglion upon it,
gives sensation alone, while that which arises from the anterior part
gives motion alone. He thus established for the first time the
important fact, that the nerves of sensation are distinct from those
of motion.

It may here be observed, that by far the greatest number of
the nerves which provide the body with motion and sensation
arise from the spinal marrow; only a few come directly from
the brain. Sir Charles Bell was led, in the next stage of his
progress, to compare these nerves with each other; and by doing
so, he obtained several interesting confirmations of the truth of
his views.

He was particularly struck, in the first place, by noticing
that the divisions of the spinal marrow, with which the roots of
motion and sensation are respectively connected, are prolonged,
as distinct tracts of nervous substance, into the brain; and that
they continue to give off nerves, in regular succession, after they
have reached that organ. Again he observed an important dif-
ference between the mode in which the nerves of the brain go to
their destinations, and that in which the spinal nerves proceed.
With the exception of one nerve, the fifth (to which I shall
presently refer as being similar both in origin and functions to
the nerves of the spine), all the cerebral nerves escape from the
skull by distinct holes, so as to be simple in structure, instead
of consisting of two roots joined together. Accordingly, greater
facility was afforded for investigating the functions of these
nerves, than was the case with the spinal nerves.

The first nerve of the brain selected for experiment was that
which passes to the tongue, and is called the ninth. It is to be
remarked that this nerve arises in all respects like the anterior
root of a spinal nerve, which, it has been seen, is the one that
confers motion; that is, the ninth has its origin from the division
of the spinal marrow, which gives off the anterior roots, just as
that division begins to expand and mix with the brain: it then
passes immediately, without being joined by the fibrils of any
other nerve, through an appropriate hole in the base of the skull,
to the tongue, in the muscular substance of which it is lost.

238 OF THE NERVES.

When this nerve was cut across in experiment, it was found that

the tongue was deprived of the power of motion; but its sensi-

bility remained unimpaired ; thereby proving conclusively that,
like the anterior roots of the spinal nerves, the ninth confers
motion alone.

The author next selected for experiment another nerve,
which springs from a different part of the brain from the
ninth, —the facial nerve, or portio dura. This nerve arises by
a simple root, and, without mixing its fibrils with those of any
other, appears externally before the ear, as represented by A
in Plate IV., and is distributed to the face. It had been hitherto
believed that the portio dura was capable of bestowing both
motion and sensation. But the author proved that this nerve was
limited to giving motor power. By making a small incision
through the skin, not larger than that for bleeding, he exposed the
nerve in a monkey,—an animal which he considered better adapted
than any other for the experiment, owing to the well-known
mobility and activity of its features: when the nerve was laid
bare and cut, the motions of the corresponding side of the
countenance were at once and entirely extinguished; but the
sensibility was unimpaired. It was even observed, as an addi-
tional proof that sensation does not depend upon the portio
dura, that the animal manifested no signs of pain during the
act of cutting it through.

Having obtained these conclusive proofs, with others which I
need not detail, that each nerve of the brain which arises by a
single root has a distinct and appropriate function, instead of
possessing various combined functions, as was formerly supposed,
it was next important to examine the fifth nerve, which, it has
been stated, is distinguished from the others by resembling the
spinal nerves. It may be briefly mentioned that this nerve
arises from the brain by two roots, having a similar structure in
every respect to those of the nerves of the spine, except that in
the fifth, one root is much larger compared with the other, than in
the spinal nerves; the root which has a ganglion upon it being
about five times greater than that which has no ganglion. It
may also be stated that, shortly after its origin, the whole nerve

OF THE NERVES. 239

subdivides into three great trunks, which ramify over the entire
head; and that the smaller root accompanies only one of the
trunks, called the third or inferior maxillary, which supplies the
lower part of the face and the muscles of the jaws. Hence the
first and second great branches are simple in structure, being
formed entirely of fibrils from the larger, or ganglionic, root ;
while the third is in part compound, from containing fibrils of the
lesser root.

Referring to Plate IV., it may be observed that two large
branches, one above and the other below the orbit, marked
respectively I. and II., issue from the bones of the face to go
to parts already abundantly supplied by the portio dura: these
are branches of the first two trunks, derived from the ganglionic
root alone. Now it was found that when these branches, called
the supra-orbitary and infra-orbitary nerves, were exposed in a
living animal, it gave the most acute pain to prick or squeeze
them; and when they were cut across, the whole surface of the
face to which they are sent, was deprived instantaneously of
sensation; so entirely was the sensation destroyed in these parts
by this experiment, that the skin could be cut or pinched without
the animal being conscious of the injury; and yet the motion of
the parts was perfectly retained, because the portio dura was
untouched. Again, when the third or inferior maxillary trunk,
composed of the two roots conjoined, was similarly exposed and
eut across, pain was experienced in the operation, and the parts
to which it is sent were deprived of sensation, but an additional
effect was produced—the muscles of the jaws, to which the
smaller root goes, were paralysed. Hence the conclusion was
obvious, that the larger root of the fifth nerve is endowed with
sensation and the smaller with motion; and it is only where the
two are combined that the nerve can give both properties at
once.

It will be acknowledged that the facts now stated were suf-
ficient to prove the truth of the general proposition, that nerves
of sensation are distinct from nerves of motion; and that the
distinction depends on the portions of the brain with which they
are connected at their roots, having corresponding appropriate

ee thelial neal fe 4

nla eters EET - Say , 3 :

DE alt Ste

errs
. Rha

cS a etaas

Bran ves Wenveen erenrmnts Serra %

scsriattestkae vieceenirane

24.0 OF THE NERVES.

endowments. Soon after the first experiments were performed,
additional confirmation of his views was obtained by Sir Charles
Bell, in studying the phenomena of disease: numerous cases
came under his observation* where morbid action in the brain or
spinal marrow, or at the roots of the nerves, gave rise to effects
in the human body, exactly similar to those produced by the
experiments on the lower animals. For example, tumours some-
times grow within the canal of the vertebral column, where the
spinal marrow is lodged, and develope themselves in such a
manner as to destroy one set of the roots of the nerves without
involving the other: in these cases, only one function of the
spinal nerves is lost. If the anterior roots be affected, there is
loss of motion ; and if it be the posterior roots, there is loss of
sensation; and the patient is in the singular condition of having
feeling in the limb, although he cannot move it, or he may be
able to move it, and have no feeling. Cases ofa similar kind were
met with more frequently in the head; owing to the nerves of the
brain being more apart from each other at their origins than the
roots of the spinal nerves. Thus many cases were observed where
the two nerves which supply the face, the one with motion, and

the other with sensation, were affected separately by morbid action,

so as to be deprived of their functions.

While the branches of the fifth nerve go straight outwards
to reach the face by the shortest route, the portio dura takes
a circuitous course to arrive at the same part. It passes
through the bone which contains the ear ard behind the lower
jaw, and is, consequently, liable to be involved in disorders,
from which the branches of the fifth are free. When the
portio dura was thus affected by itself, the patient could no
longer knit his brows, close his eyelids, inflate his nostril, or
hold any thing between his lips; expression was entirely lost in
the side of the face, and there was actual distortion, owing to the
muscles of the sound side dragging the paralysed cheek and lips
towards them; but there was no diminution of sensibility in the

* They were recorded chiefly by his zealous assistant in these pursuits, Mr.
John Shaw.

OF THE NERVES. 241

half of the face, which was so completely deprived of motion.*
Again, when the fifth nerve,— or, more properly, those branches
of it which arise from the larger root alone,—were implicated in
disease, so as to have their structure destroyed, sensation was
lost, while motion was unimpaired. Taking even the most
delicate and acutely sensible part of the face, the membrane
which lines the eye, it might be scarified, in cases where the fifth
had lost its functions, without the patient winking, or, in fact,
being conscious of the operation.+ In painful affections of the
face, as tic-douloureux, the fifth nerve was found to be the source
of the suffering. When disease affected a part where the smaller
or motor root was included with the larger, besides the pain and
loss of sensation, the muscles which move the lower jaw were
paralysed, these being controlled by that root.

From such examples some idea may be formed of the advan-
tages conferred upon medicine by the discoveries which have
been described, and especially of the new light they threw upon
diseases of the brain and spinal marrow. While the belief pre-
vailed, that every nerve, from whatever part it came, had the
same kind of functions, and that the different divisions of the brain
and spinal marrow were also alike, it followed that, when a case
was met with of partial loss of sensation or of motion in any part
of the body, the physician was led to conclude that disease had

* And it might be added, that no pain, arising directly from the disease in
the nerve, attended the loss of function. Patients are seldom aware of their
face having become paralysed, until told by a friend, or it has been observed by
themselves in the mirror. This is accounted for by the portio dura being
simply a nerve of motion, and having no power of bestowing sensation or

giving pain.

+ The loss of sensation in the eye, from lesion of the ophthalmic branches
of the fifth, is often followed by inflammation, which terminates in the de-
struction of the organ. This is caused by the eye having been deprived of its
most important guardian,—namely, the sensibility which induces not only
winking, but other efforts to protect the tender surface from irritation. Cases
are sometimes met with where the surface of the eye has lost its sensation; but
where the upper eyelid has become permanently dropped (owing to another
nerve, the third, being also affected), so as to cover it, and defend it from
injury: in these cases, inflammation does not occur, and the eye preserves its

transparency.

24,2 OF THE NERVES.

commenced in the brain; and his treatment was conducted on
that supposition. But when it was learned that the nerves had
distinct endowments, it was only required, in such cases, to be
acquainted with the particular uses and the anatomical course
of the individual nerves distributed to the affected part, to be
able to determine at once, whether the disorder was in one of the
nerves, after it had been given off from the brain, and therefore
a comparatively harmless complaint, or if it were situated in that
important organ itself, and of a serious nature. In short, the
knowledge now acquired of the nervous system lends, every day,
the most valuable aid to the practitioner; it gives him means,
not formerly in his power, of exploring disease, and of tracing
it along the nerves to the precise spot where it is situated.

But when Sir Charles Bell reached this stage of his progress,
and had thus settled the distinction between the nerves of sensa-
tion and of motion throughout the body, he became aware that
other important questions remained to be examined before we
could have a satisfactory knowledge of the functions of all the
nerves. The subject which principally attracted his attention was
a contrast between the distribution of the large class of nerves
which arises from the whole length of the spinal marrow,
together with certain nerves of the brain, and a comparatively
small class, which arises from the medulla oblongata, a division
of the nervous system placed at the point where the spinal
marrow and brain join each other.

When he looked to the nerves of the spine, he perceived their
chief character to be, that they supply the body generally: they
go to the neck, and even to a part of the head; they go to the
arms; they supply the trunk; and they are sent to the lower
extremities. To all these parts, he had also ascertained that they
give motion by one of their roots, and sensation by the other. He
had demonstrated, at the same time, that the fifth nerve of the
brain is exactly of the same nature as the spinal nerves: it is com-
posed of two roots, by one of which motor power is given to the
muscles of the jaws, and by the other sensation to all the surfaces
of the head. Now, placing the spinal nerves and fifth pair
together as one class, and associating the nerves of the organs of

OF THE NERVES. 943

the senses with them, he considered that there was here a system
of nerves competent to fulfil all the essential services of a nervous

system.
He turned his attention, in the next place, to the nerves which

come off at the medulla oblongata; being four in number, and
varying in size and extent of distribution. The chief circumstance
which gave interest to these nerves was, that they arise from a
small circumscribed part of the nervous system, distinct from
those divisions which give origin to the nerves of the former
class; and they pass to a limited extent of the body, already
plentifully supplied by that class.

From this observation Sir Charles Bell inferred that the
nerves of the medulla oblongata could not thus arise from a
distinct portion of the brain, and course to parts of the frame
already sufficiently supplied by nerves from a different quarter,
for the mere purpose of giving the same powers, or even an
addition of the same powers, conferred by the other nerves.
He thought, on the contrary, that they must be sent to bestow
properties which the spinal nerves and fifth are incapable of
giving. He saw, at least, that our knowledge of the uses
of the first-mentioned class could not be considered perfect,
until the question was properly solved, Why is the other class
superadded? He accordingly endeavoured to remove that diffi-
culty.

He began this part of the inquiry by seeking to discover
whether any common character could be proved to belong to
the nerves arising from the medulla oblongata; and, with that
object, he studied carefully the functions of the organ to which
they are severally sent. He observed that they all agree in one
thing, namely, that they are distributed to parts of the frame
which together form the organ of Respiration. The portio dura
is sent to the nostrils and mouth, the exterior orifices of the
tube which leads to the lungs; the glosso-pharyngeal goes to the
posterior openings of the nostrils, and upper part of the wind-
pipe and fauces; the superior and inferior laryngeal nerves,
branches of the par vagum, supply the larynx, which is the organ
of voice; the par vagum then descends into the chest, and is

CC

24.4, OF THE NERVES.

distributed chiefly to the windpipe and lungs ; but branches, also,
go to the heart ; the spinal accessory nerve is sent to the muscles
of the shoulders and neck, which combine with those of the chest
in dilating the lungs. Being satisfied, therefore, that the nerves
of this class belong to the organ of breathing, he proceeded next
to ask, Why this part should have a distinct set of nerves
provided for it? Why the spinal nerves and fifth nerve should
not have been sufficient to control the various movements of
breathing.

But that question, he soon perceived, could not be answered
by confining his attention to the organ of respiration merely as it
is found in man. It was necessary to follow the developement of
the apparatus in the animal kingdom generally, and to study the
uses to which it is applied in the lower, as well as the higher,
animals. By such a course of investigation alone, did he think
that this problem could be solved.

It deserves to be particularly remarked that the mechanism
of the organ of respiration, as it exists in the lower animals, is
very different from what it is in the higher. And the reason is
obvious. In the lower classes of animals the organ is limited to
one function—that, which is its primary office in the economy, of
oxygenating and purifying the blood; while, in the higher classes,
it becomes also the organ of Voice; and, in man, where it is in
the perfection of organisation, it is the instrument of Articulate
Language, as well as of Expression.

Here, then, may be perceived the groundwork of the explana-
tion given by Sir Charles Bell why, in man and the higher
classes of animals, the organ of respiration is provided with a
series of nerves distinct from those which confer motion and
sensation on the body generally. He considered that, in the
course of its developement, from the simplest to the most complex
animals, this part undergoes such great and remarkable changes
in its construction to become the organ of voice in addition to
that of mere respiration, that a new class of nerves was required
to regulate the actions of the superadded mechanism.

Let us reflect on what is necessary in the structure of the
organ of respiration to form it as the instrument of voice. The

OF THE NERVES. 24.5

first essential thing is, that the air for oxygenating the blood
shall be received into a closed cavity, communicating with the
external atmosphere by a single tube; the second is, that this
cavity shall be capable of contracting on the volume of air within,
so as to expel it along the tube, with a stream strong enough
to vibrate and produce sound. This is the simplest view of a
chest, containing lungs, and of a trachea opening at the nostrils
and mouth. ©

But it were a mistake to suppose that the form of respiratory
organ here described is one met with generally in the animal
kingdom. So far from this being the case, it is not till we ascend
to the class vertebrata, that we find the earliest and faintest
indications of a true chest and windpipe.

In the lowest classes of animals, those a single grade in the
seale above vegetables, there is neither circulating system nor
distinct respiratory organ. But as soon as a circulating system
appears, traces are also perceived of an apparatus for oxygenating
the blood. The organ, however, is of the most simple structure,
being merely a few prolongations of the integument of the
animal, disposed in the shape of tufts or fringes, which float
freely in the water, and expose the blood to the oxygen contained
in that element. As the circulating system becomes more distinct,
the fringes are exchanged for small sacs within the animal,
formed by the integument folded inwards upon itself. ‘The
apparatus for respiration in insects, is a modification of the latter
kind of structure: ranged along the sides of their bodies, at
regular intervals, there is a succession of holes, which are the
openings of a series of infinitely small tubes, that extend in all
directions through their interior; these openings and tubes
conduct the air into their bodies, where the oxygen purifies the
blood. A higher form of respiratory organ is presented in
branchiz or gills. These are possessed by such animals only as

have the circulating system so far developed, that the elements of )

a heart, and a distinct set of vessels for conveying the blood to be
oxygenated, appear for the first time; and they therefore indicate
a greater concentration both of the respiratory organ and of the
circulating system. But even gills pass through many gradations

Serer etree enh - EE DEEaT ETE - mmerece ~

Sei Sn ce ie n

a

Se ae

‘|

24.6 OF THE NERVES.

before they acquire that high degree of developement with which
we are most familiar in fishes.

What we have chiefly to remark in all these modes of
respiration is, first, that until we arrive at the order fishes,
the lowest of the vertebrata, the mouth has no connexion with
the organ of breathing ;—it is limited, in all the invertebrata,
to the purposes of nutrition: and, secondly, that not only is
the earliest example of the mouth being an orifice common for
the food and breathing, seen in fishes, but they have an internal
skeleton in which is blocked out, as it were, the first rude
form of a chest for containing lungs, and for inhaling the breath
through a single tube, the trachea.

It may be new to many of the readers of this work to be told

that the air-bladder, which serves in most kinds of fishes to

accommodate their specific gravity to the degrees of density of
the water in which they swim, is, in reality, an elementary lung.
Yet this is proved to be the case by many facts in comparative
anatomy. It is sufficient to state, that a set of fishes exist called
Sauroid (from their resemblance to the inferior kinds of reptiles),
in which the air-bladder communicates with the mouth by a tube
(termed ductus pneumaticus), which resembles, in all respects, a
windpipe ; and these fishes, when left on dry land, can respire
by this apparatus independently of their gills. The same struc-
ture passes through various gradations in other animals inter-
mediate between fishes and reptiles, till the gills at length
disappear, and the air-bladder becomes a more perfectly
organised lung.

If we continue to trace the mechanism by which the sac, thus
introduced for the first time in connexion with the mouth for the
purposes of respiration, is alternately expanded and compressed
by an apparatus of ribs and muscles, to receive and expel
the air, it will be found that it makes considerable advance
in its developement in the order reptilia. In the lowest of
this order, as the frogs and tortoises, the form of the chest is
so imperfectly matured that, instead of the sac or sacculated
bag, which constitutes their lungs, being filled by an expansive
motion of that cavity, it is distended by successive actions

OF THE NERVES. Q4'7

of the mouth, like swallowing; and nostrils are now first
perceived in communication with the throat. Im the higher
orders, as the crocodile, distinct ribs, and muscles for moving
them, are provided; and the process of respiration, although
carried on sluggishly, in accordance with their being cold-blooded
animals, nearly resembles that with which we are best acquainted
in mammalia and in man.

But there is an important distinction between the structure of
the chest, as seen in reptiles or in birds (which are next above
them in the chain of animal existence), and that in mammalia.
In reptiles and in birds, no partition exists between the abdominal
and thoracic cavities, so that the ribs form a common covering for
the viscera of nutrition, and the lungs, which lie in contact with
them. It is not till we ascend to mammalia that a diaphragm is
introduced, a septum composed of muscular fibres, which stretches
across from the lower border of the ribs on one side to that of
the other, and forms a complete boundary between the abdomen
and chest. Now the diaphragm has not only the effect of
circumscribing the space for containing the lungs, and thereby
giving greater force to the expansion and contraction of these
organs, but it acts itself as a powerful muscle of respiration in
dilating the area of the chest. In short, when a diaphragm is
added, the organ of breathing attains its highest state of con-
centration in the animal kingdom ; and it is not only adapted
in the most admirable manner for oxygenating the blood, but the
mechanism surrounding the lungs is so adjusted, that the air can
be expelled through the larynx, the organ of voice, and through
the mouth, the organ of speech, with so strong an impulse as to
produce vocal sounds and articulate language.

When the chest acquires the compact form and the new
properties just described, there follow several modifications in the
structure of different parts of the frame, which do not at first
appear to have any direct relation to the organ of breathing.
Peculiar sensibilities are also introduced, with various combined
actions of muscles far apart from each other, obviously designed
to guard the organ from injury, and to perfect it as the instru-

ment of speech.

248 OF THE NERVES.

The first example, I shall take from the circulating system.
It is found by comparative anatomy that, according as the
apparatus of respiration becomes more perfectly organised, the
heart and blood-vessels begin to be subdivided into two distinct
systems, the one for purifying the blood, and the other for
distributing it over the body. This is the origin of that
distinction which comparative anatomists draw between the
pulmonic circle, including the part of the heart and blood-vessels
belonging to the lungs, and the systemic circle, which sends the
blood over the body, and returns it to the heart. This separation
takes place in a slow and gradual manner in the animal kingdom,
and it is only seen to be complete in the warm-blooded animals.
Thus, in man, the division of the circulating system appropriated
to the lungs or the oxygenation of the blood, consists of cavities
of the heart and of blood-vessels, which are quite distinct from
those provided for propelling the blood over the body. Yet
these two divisions act in perfect concert with each other, a con-
cert mechanically secured by the peculiar structure of the heart ;
for the two sets of cavities are joined together to form a single
organ, and they contract in unison. Thus, so close a sympathy
is established between the heart and the organ of respiration, that
any interruption to the entrance of air into the chest will not
p Only affect the action of that division of the heart which belongs
' to the lungs, but it will disturb that part joined to it in structure
_ by which the purified blood is conveyed through the body.
Hence, the agitation and palpitation of the heart, so much dwelt
upon in this volume, caused by disturbances in the action of
respiration, whether from bodily exertion or mental emotion.

_ Another point, still connected with the circulating system,
deserves to be noticed, as throwing light on some of the questions
treated in the work. The blood which returns to the heart by
the veins, flows towards the chest in a slow and easily interrupted
stream ; the force which propelled it when issuing from the heart
by the arteries, being exhausted before it enters the veins. From
this weakness of the current it follows, that the blood collected in
the great veins close to the entrance of the chest—as the jugular
veins, for example—may be stopped by a slight cause; when

OF THE NERVES. Q4,9

congestion of the minute branches will be the consequence, and
serious injury may be occasioned to the more delicate organs
from which the blood returns. Now there are certain conditions
of the chest in breathing, during which the blood is thus inter-
rupted. As we draw in the breath, the blood flows into the chest
along the veins with perfect facility, because the superior opening
of the cavity is then enlarged, and the suction, which draws the
air into the windpipe, has also the effect of increasing the force of
the current of blood. But when we expel the air, and thereby
diminish the area of the chest, an obstruction takes place in the
flow of blood in the veins, and if the act of expiration be strong,
regurgitation may be produced. This interruption, and retrograde
motion of the blood in the large veins of the neck, will gorge the |
smaller vessels; and the effect may be seen in a person seized
with a fit of coughing or of sneezing: for his face then be- |
comes suffused and red, and the superficial veins turgid with blood.
It is therefore obvious, that if the veins of the surface of the head
become congested, in such violent conditions of breathing, the
deeper veins, returning the blood from the brain and the eye, will
also be over distended from the same cause. Consequently, these
important organs will be in danger of suffering serious injury to
their textures from the loaded and turgid condition of the veins.
But both organs are defended from such dangers by a beautiful
arrangement of the muscles of the neck, which cover and protect
the large veins. These muscles combine in sympathy with the
movements of the chest, so as to compress the veins when there
is a tendency to regurgitation, and to take pressure off them when
the chest is expanded. It is further to be noticed, that the flat
web of muscular fibres which covers the eye—the orbicularis
muscle—is a part of the same provision. It acts in compressing
the eye-ball whenever the chest is violently contracted ; by
this means it closes the veins at the back of the orbit, and
prevents engorgement of the fine branches which ramify on the
delicate coats within.*

_ i tt an i At cai atc ica a _— - chara —o
eat te RL i le a = :

* The orbicularis muscle is wanting in animals which have not the same
concentrated apparatus for breathing as man. I have shewn elsewhere that in
man and mammalia another provision exists besides that mentioned in the text,

7 eee >
i tn ents

a
‘ales
rg

mental ichitanrtemnienslid

250 | OF THE NERVES.

I shall offer one other illustration of the new sympathies
and arrangements in the actions of the muscles which are intro-
duced into parts of the frame originally unconnected with the
organ of breathing, to accommodate them for its becoming the
instrument of voice in man.

We are so familiar with respiration through a mouth and
nostrils, that we are led to look upon these parts as necessary to
every apparatus for breathing. But it has been already stated
that it is only in the class vertebrata, commencing with fishes,
that the mouth has any relation to the function of breathing.
In all animals lower in the scale, the openings in their bodies for
the reception of air or water in respiration, are quite distinct
from the oral aperture, as it is called, and placed at a distance
from it. In short, the mouth is exclusively an inlet for the food
in the invertebrata.

When so important an office is added to the mouth in the
higher animals as that of receiving air in its passage to the lungs,
it is obvious that many changes must accompany its newly ac-
quired character. To adjust this opening for two functions so
dissimilar as breathing and taking in food, and to ensure regu-
larity in the performance of a process so vital as that of breathing,
we find that a new mechanism, with appropriate muscles, and
new sensibilities to animate these muscles, are introduced into
the animal frame.

This is not the place to enter minutely into the subject ;
but I request the reader’s attention to one or two examples of
the mode in which the mouth and throat are protected in their

for guarding the eye against the irregularities of the venous circulation. The
veins which ramify in the interior of the organ between the delicate membranes
that support the retina, join the larger trunks, before these pass out from the
eye-ball, in a peculiar manner; each minute branch makes a circular sweep
so as to describe nearly a complete circle, previous to entering its principal
vein. These small vessels are so numerous that they quite cover the surface,
and being arranged in concentric circles, they produce an appearance from
which the name vasa vorticosa has been applied to them. Nothing could
be more admirable than this structure for breaking the force of a retrograde
current of blood, and gradually diffusing it over the membranes. A similar
appearance, though less distinct, may be observed in the superficial veins of
the brain.

OF THE NERVES. Q51

complex operations, by the sensibilities with which they are
endowed.

Let us suppose that a morsel of food is chewed and ready to
be swallowed. I only allude, in passing, to the peculiar arrange-
ment by which it is provided that, while the mouth is obstructed
by containing the food, the breathing proceeds uninterruptedly
by the air passing along the nostrils, which open behind, and
directly over the windpipe. When the morsel is propelled
backwards, it comes in contact with a part of the cavity of the
throat, which is endowed with a remarkable sensibility ; it is of
such a nature that, when excited, there is an irresistible desire to
swallow; and the consequence is, that whenever the part is
touched, a large class of muscles, consisting not only of those
immediately adjoining it, but of others situated at a distance, are
brought into combined action, to grasp and propel the morsel
along the gullet. Here a great variety of movements. take place
consentaneously. The windpipe is closed by its valve, the
epiglottis, falling over it; the posterior nostrils are shut by the
folding upwards of the curtain, called the soft palate; certain
strong muscles surrounding the upper part of the gullet compress
the morsel, and urge it into that canal; but, before the food ean
reach the stomach, it must pass through muscular fibres of the
diaphragm encircling the gullet; these fibres consequently re-
lax, and there is a momentary interruption of the breathing.
Now all these actions, which shew so remarkable a consent
between the muscles of deglutition and of respiration, are excited
and regulated by the peculiar sensibility seated at the back part
of the throat. If, however, there should be any disturbance in
the act of swallowing, and a small portion of the food should pass
the wrong way, a different set of actions will occur, under the
influence of another kind of sensibility. That is, if a crumb of
bread should lodge in the throat, near the opening of the
windpipe, a sensibility distinct from that which gives rise to
swallowing will be excited, and will rouse the muscles into
action, to produce a set of movements altogether different from
the former. The same muscles will be combined in such a way

Day

252 OF THE NERVES.

as to cause a succession of violent expirations, which will con-
tinue till the irritating particle is expelled from the top of the
windpipe, and the danger of choking removed. It may be
further noticed, that there are various other sensibilities seated
in distinct parts of the passages, which differ in kind as well as
degree from those just mentioned ; and, when these are excited,
similar concatenated actions of the muscles are produced,
modified, however, according to the structure which requires to
be cleared or defended.

The important circumstance that we have to attend to in all
these examples of combined actions of the muscles, and fine
sensibilities, provided in the face, neck, throat, and chest, is, that
they have each a decided relation to the peculiar form of the
organ of breathing in the highest animals; and that they are only
required, when the mouth combines the two offices of being an
inlet for the air and for the food.

It was from studying the human body with these views, that
Sir Charles Bell was led to conclude that the nerves which arise
from a part of the brain distinct from that which gives off the
nerves generally, and which are distributed to the structures I
have described, are bestowed in correspondence with the changes
of mechanism, and the new relations established in the organ of
breathing, during its course of developement in the animal king-
dom. He concluded, that the main design of the progressive
changes which the apparatus of breathing undergoes, from the
lowest to the highest creatures, is to afford to Man an instru-
ment corresponding with his superior endowments ;—to supply
him with an organ adapted to the great purpose of communi-
cating thought, and evolving the powers of his Mind—the
attribute by which he holds his exalted position in creation.
He also thought that the same organization which serves for
articulate language, or the production of those arbitrary sounds
by which nations converse in speech, is appropriated to the
universal language, understood by all, through which emotion
and passion address us in the countenance, neck, and breast:
hence, Sir Charles Bell believed that in man, the organ of

OF THE NERVES. 953

breathing is the organ of Expression, and that it is superin-
tended in all its varied actions, by the class of nerves to which
he gave the name Respiratory nerves.

The correctness of these opinions, so founded on a compre-
hensive survey of the organ of respiration in the animal kingdom,
was more fully confirmed, when the author examined, in the next
place, by a similar reference to comparative anatomy, the fune-
tion of the class of nerves to which those of respiration were
looked upon as superadded; namely, the spinal nerves and fifth
nerve of the brain.

The extensive distribution of this system has been already
noticed; it has been seen that it consists of double nerves, each
composed of a root that bestows motion, and another that bestows
sensation, and that they are sent to all parts of the body. But,
although they are thus extensively distributed, Sir Charles Bell
was much struck by observing, that they do not confer both of these
properties equally upon the whole frame: he saw that sensation is
bestowed indiscriminately or promiscuously, but that with regard
to motion, the case is different: that there is a defined limit to
the power which this class possesses of regulating the muscles.
As this observation was of great importance in guiding him to
the right view of the functions of these nerves, I may enter into
a little more explanation concerning it.

If we direct attention to the spinal nerves, it will not appear
that they are restricted in their distribution ; they pass out directly
from the spinal canal, to supply both motion and sensation
equally, to the whole body, not excepting a part of the head.
But, if we attend to the fifth nerve, it will be seen that, however
freely it gives its sensitive branches to all the surfaces of the
head, its motor branches are bestowed on the muscles of one
organ alone: they are distributed (as I have already had occasion
to notice) exclusively to the muscles of the jaws, and those
muscles of the cheeks and lips which are associated with the
jaws in mastication. Hence, viewing the functions of this great
class, comprising the spinal nerves and fifth, we see that they
give sensation to all parts of the frame, from the crown of the
head to the toe; but they give motion only to the trunk, the

254 OF THE NERVES.

extremities, and the parts in the head by which mastication is
performed.

It was from reflecting on this remarkable restriction of the
fifth to the office of controlling the motions of the jaws, and
inquiring into the peculiar relation which exists between the act
of mastication and the functions bestowed by the spinal nerves
generally, that the author was led to explain why these nerves
should be associated to form a distinct class in the animal
kingdom.

The course of his observation was this: — He asked, in the
first place, What is the primary use of the mechanism, consisting,
in the higher animals, of head, trunk, upper and lower ex-
tremities, and, in the inferior creatures, of parts corresponding
more or less closely with these, which is supplied by this class of
nerves? The answer was, to minister to the great function of
nutrition. These different members, he thought, might be re-
garded, taking this comprehensive view of the animal kingdom,
as combining to form an organ by which the animal shall obtain
nourishment.

This will be more readily understood, if we inquire what is
the chief distinction between an animal and a vegetable. An
animal possesses a system of organs in the interior of its body
for elaborating and assimilating the nourishment received into
it: now a vegetable has analogous organs, by which similar
processes are performed; no distinction, therefore, can be
drawn between them on these grounds. But there is an es-
sential difference in the modes by which they procure their
nourishment. The tree or plant is fixed in the soil, and obtains
the nutritious juices which preserve it in life, by the roots that
fasten it to the earth: the animal, on the contrary, is locomotive,
and must transport itself from place to place, in quest of its food.
Accordingly, the animal must be provided with certain endow-
ments bearing reference to that peculiarity of its nature; and if
we consider what these endowments are, it will be found that they
are such as the system of nerves under consideration confers.

Let me enumerate the powers which an animal must possess
to enable it to go from place to place, and select its food. First,

OF THE NERVES. Q55

it must have organs of locomotion: fins, or paddles, or some
analogous -structure, if the creature be aquatic; wings, if it
move in the air; or extremities and feet, if it inhabit dry land.
Secondly, it must have certain prehensile instruments, constructed
for grasping and securing its food; and these may be either ten-
tacles, paws, or organs corresponding with the hand in man.
Thirdly, it must have a special mechanism for receiving the
food, and, if required, for triturating the material of which it
consists, so as to prepare it for being passed into the stomach ;
that is, a mouth and jaws. Fourthly, the mechanism here de-
scribed would be useless, if unaccompanied by the means of
putting it in motion and regulating it; whence a nervous system
becomes necessary, consisting of nerves of motion and organs of
sense, and a central part corresponding with the brain. To
these various structures physiologists have applied the name
“animal” organs, to distinguish them from parts common to
vegetables and animals, termed the “ organic” structures.

Here, then, may be perceived the foundation of Sir Charles
Bell’s explanation of the functions of the class consisting of the
spinal nerves and fifth nerve of the brain. He looked upon this
system, in the highest animals, as the representative of a set of
nerves which exists generally throughout the animal kingdom;
and which bestows powers common to all creatures raised
above the vegetable kingdom, whatever may be their mode of
respiration. In man they supply the lower extremities, his
organs of progression — corresponding with the structures in other
animals by which they move from place to place in search of
food: they are given to the arm and hand, his instruments of
prehension—analogous to organs in the inferior creatures which
are necessary for obtaining their nourishment; and they give
power to the muscles of mastication, by which the food is prepared
for the stomach—corresponding with the oral aperture and man-
dibles in all animals. Finally, these nerves bestow touch and
taste,* senses which are possessed most generally by animals, and
which may be justly considered the most essential to an organiza-

* The gustatory nerve, the special nerve of the organ of taste, is a branch of
the fifth nerve. .

256 OF THE NERVES.

tion adapted, in its comprehensive view, to procure nourishment.
The senses of seeing, hearing, and smelling, which belong to
a large proportion of the animal kingdom, in common with
man, are to be regarded, in this comparative survey, aS super-
added senses; they are introduced into the animal frame, one
after the other, subsequently to touch and taste, according as the
creatures ascend gradually in the scale of existence.

Before quitting this subject, it is interesting to remark how
the mechanism thus shewn to be superintended by the spinal
nerves and fifth, becomes accommodated to the organ of speech,
upon that structure being added to the frame; and in such a
manner, that it still performs its original office in the most perfect
way. This adjustment is accomplished by a series of changes
being gradually wrought in the different organs subservient to
the mouth, so that this opening, in ministering to the animal
wants, shall have simpler duties to fulfil, and depend more on its
subsidiary parts, the higher animals ascend in the animal scale.
Thus in the inferior animals, the offices of progression, of prehen-
sion, and of preparing the food for deglutition, are shared by the
different members, in such a manner that each performs, to a
greater or less extent, the duties proper to the others. For
example, the structures designed principally for progression are
instrumental also in seizing and grasping: those intended chiefly
for prehension assist in progression ; and the mouth, so far from
being adapted exclusively, in all animals, for mastication, is in
some an organ of progression, as it is in a great many, the
principal apparatus for prehension. My limits prevent me from
entering fully into this subject, or illustrating. by example, how
each of the offices here enumerated comes at length to have its
own appropriate instrument, distinct from the rest. It may be
sufficient, however, to say, that when the animal frame reaches
the high condition presented in man, the hand becomes so perfect
a minister to his animal wants, that the mouth is absolved from
performing more offices than that of mastication simply. Hence
this cavity is diminished in size; the teeth and jaws are reduced to
moderate dimensions; and its form is consequently suited in the

most admirable manner, for being the organ of articulate lan guage.

oe ae

eee pS

OF THE NERVES. pS

Thus, in whatever view we study the developement of the
animal frame, new proofs present themselves of its being the
final aim of all the modifications which we successively trace, to
confer upon man an instrument adapted to his intellectual
nature—an organ of Speech. It is the fine adjustment of the
various members of his body for that object, that renders his
organization the most perfect in the animal kingdom. Additional
strength is, therefore, given to the author’s opinions, that our
conceptions of human beauty, both as regards the form of the
head, and the moveable features, have a direct relation to the
fitness of the structures, for Speech, Voice, and Expression.

Such is a brief account of the leading parts of the discoveries
made by the author of the volume, in this important part of the
anatomy of the body—the nervous system. He first established,
on undoubted evidence, the fact, that the nerves of motion are
distinct from those of sensation; and that the nerves generally
possess different endowments, according to the divisions of the
brain from which they arise. He then arranged the nerves of
the whole body into three distinct systems, corresponding with
the organs which they respectively control. The first class,
was that composed of the spinal nerves and fifth nerve of
the brain; this class, he proved, bestows both motion and sen-
sation on all the parts to which it is distributed; and these
parts, he further shewed, are organs which belong to man in
common with the lowest creatures, their united function being to
supply food, the first necessary want of all animals: he termed

this set of nerves the “original” class, and included in it the
various organs of the senses. The second class comprised in it a —

series of nerves, distinct from the former, both in their origin and
mode of distribution: they pass off from a circumscribed central
portion of the nervous system, the medulla oblongata, and diverge
to different parts of the head, neck, throat, and chest already sup-
plied by the original class: he shewed that these structures form
together the organ of respiration—a mechanism which does not
belong to the lowest animals, but is gradually introduced by a slow
process of developement into the animal kingdom, in order that,
besides oxygenating the blood, it may become, in man, the organ of

SS RE ETI BE

258 OF THE NERVES:

Voice and Expression : to this set of nerves he applied the name,
respiratory class. In these two classes were combined all the
nerves together which arise either from the brain or spinal marrow.
The third class consisted of a series of nerves which have their
centre in large ganglions scattered principally among the viscera
of the abdomen. This forms the system called ganglionic or
sympathetic: and their use has been generally supposed to be, to
unite in sympathy those organs by which the various organic
functions are performed : such as secretion, absorption, assimilation
of the food, the growth and decay of the body, &. When the
nerves belonging to these different classes are viewed in their
combined condition, as seen by the anatomist, nothing can exceed
their apparent confusion; but when examined by the aid of the
principle, and the arrangement, introduced by Sir Charles Bell,
order and design are found to pervade every part.

L844 .

¥
7?

hn Murray, Jan

Ss
>
SS
a)
Ss
~
Ss
ed
=
x
sS
y
s
|

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

Puate I.

Fig. 1. The Skull of a Man fully grown, presented in a front view.

a. The Frontal Bone (os frontis).

p. The Protuberances formed by the Frontal Sinuses.

c. The Temporal Ridge of the frontal bone; on which the form of
the temple depends.

p. The Cheek Bone (os male).

EE. The Upper Maxillary Bones.

r. The Nasal Bones.

6c. The Orbits or Sockets for the Eye-balls. The circle of their
margin is seen to be formed by the frontal bones, the cheek-
bones, and the superior maxillary bones.

HH. The Temporal Bones. ‘These hollows are filled with a strong
muscle, which arising upon the side of the skull, passes down,
through the arch, to be inserted into the lower jawbone.

11. The Mastoid or Mamillary Processes of the Temporal Bone.
These are the points into which the strong mastoid muscles,
which give form to the neck, are inserted.

x. The Lower Jaw.

L. The Angle of the Lower Jaw.

m. The Processes of the jaws which form the sockets for receiving
the roots of the teeth.

Fig. 2 is the Skull of an Adult seen in profile, in which we have to

remark these parts :—

A. The Frontal Bone.

B. The Temporal Bone.

c. The Zygomatic Process of the temporal bone, which, with the
process of the cheek-bone, forms an arch, under which the

EE

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

tendon of the temporal muscle passes, to be inserted into the
lower jaw.

pd. The Hole or Foramen of the Ear; a little below this is the

mastoid process of the temporal bone.

E. The Parietal Bone; so called, because it forms the greater part,

as it were, of the wall of the skull.

F. The Occipital Bone.

These bones are united by sutures, in which the processes of the
bones seem to indent themselves, as they grow, into the opposite bone,
without there being an absolute union between them. That which unites
the frontal and parietal bones is called the coronal suture; that which
unites the parietal and temporal bones is called the sqaamous or temporal
suture; the line between the occipital and parietal bones is the lamb-
doidal suture; and the line between the parietal bones is called the
sagittal suture, because it is laid between the lambdoid and coronal
sutures, like the arrow between the bow and the string.

There are many lesser sutures which unite the smaller bones of the
face; but they need not be mentioned here.

Gg. The Cheek Bone (os male).

Hu. The Upper Jawbone (os maxillare).

1. The Bones of the Nose (ossa nasi).

K. The Lower Jaw (inferior maxilla).

L. The Angle of the Jaw.

mM. The Process of the Jaw which moves in the socket in the temporal

bone.

n. The Coronoid Process of the Jaw, into which the temporal muscle

is fixed, to move the jaw in conjunction with other muscles.

Fig. 3 represents the Skull of an Infant, in which the sutures are not
yet formed, the bones of the cranium being loose, and attached by their
membranes only ; while spaces may be observed, left unprotected, from
the imperfect ossification of the bones. The individual parts require no
references; they will be understood from their correspondence with
fig. 2.

Fig. 4 is the Section of a Cranium, in which the only thing meant to
be particularly remarked, is the cavity which is seen in the frontal bone,
viz. the frontal sinuses.

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

Puate II.

OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE.

This plate represents the Muscles of the Face as they appear in a

front view.
There are muscles attached to the eyebrow which produce its various

motions.
aA. The Frontal Muscle. A thin muscle, expanded over the fore-
“head, and inserted into the skin under the eyebrow. We de
not see here the whole of the muscle, but only a part of what
_ is properly called Occipito-frontalis.

It arises in a web of fibres, from the back of the skull (from a ridge
of the temporal and occipital bones): becoming tendinous, it covers all
the upper part of the skull with a membrane or sheet of tendon, and
terminates in the anterior muscle, which is seen in this view.

BB. The Corrugator Supercilii arises from the lower part of the
frontal bone near the nose, and is inserted into the integument
under the eyebrow. It lies nearly transversely, and its office is
to knit and draw the eyebrows together.

cc. The Circular Muscle of the Eyelids (the orbicularis palpebra-
rum). There is a little tendon at the inner angle of the eye,
which is a fixed point for this muscle, attaching it to the
maxillary bone, and being both origin and insertion.

The descending slip of the Occipito-Frontalis. As this fasciculus
of fibres descends from the frontal muscle to be attached to the side of
the nose, it has a distinct operation, and may be considered as a separate
muscle. It draws the inner extremity of the eyebrow downwards.

These four muscles move the eyebrow, and give it all its various
inflexions. If the orbicularis palpebrarum and the descending slip of
the frontalis act, there is a heavy and lowering expression. If they yield
to the influence of the frontal muscle, the eyebrow is arched, and there
is a cheerful or an alert and inquiring expression. If the corrugator
supercilii acts, there is more or less of mental anguish, or of painful

exercise of thought.

262 EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

Muscles moving the nostrils : — :

D. Levator Labii Superioris Aleque Nasi. It arises from the upper
jaw, and is inserted into the upper lip and nostril, which it
raises.

gE. Compressor Nasi. A set of fibres which compress the nostril.

L. The Depressor Ale Nasi lies under the orbicularis oris. It arises
near the incisor teeth, and is inserted into the moveable
cartilage, which forms the wing of the nostril.

These three muscles serve to expand and contract the nostril. They

move in consent with the muscles of respiration.

Muscles of the lips :—

F. Levator Labii Proprius. It arises from the upper jaw-bone, near
the orbit, and is inserted into the upper lip, which it raises. |

x6. Levator Anguli Oris. This muscle, lying under the last, is, of
course, shorter: it raises the angle of the mouth.
\H. Zygomatie Muscle. So called, because its origin is from the
as zygomatic process of the cheek-bone. It is inserted into the
angle of the mouth.

. Orbicularis Muscle of the Lips.

- Nasalis Labii Superioris. Draws down the septum of the nose.

- Triangularis Oris, or Depressor Labiorum. A strong muscle
arising from the base of the lower jaw, and inserted into the
angle of the mouth.

- Quadratus Menti, or Depressor of the Lower Lip.

Levatores Menti. Small, but strong, muscles. They arise from
the lower jaw near the alveolar processes of the incisor teeth,
descend, and are inserted into the integument of the chin. By
their action they throw up the chin and project the lower lip.

- The Buccinator forms the fleshy part of the cheeks. It acts
principally in turning the morsel in the mouth. Its fibres are

- inserted into the angles of the mouth.
Geir. Fibres of the Platysma Myoides, which ascend from the neck
upon the side of the cheek.

London, Lublished by John Murray, Tank 1644.

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

Puate III.

MUSCLES OF A DOG’S FACE.

AA. Circular Fibres, which surround the eyes, and which are
common to all animals.
pFp. Accessory Muscles, which I name Scintillantes. They draw
back the eyelids from the eye-ball.
cu. Muscles of the Ear.
tx. A Mass of Muscular Fibres, always the strongest in this class of
animals, and which, with those concealed under them, I call
Ringentes. They raise the upper lip and expose the teeth.
. Muscles which move the nostril in smelling.
. Circular Fibres of the Mouth, which yet do not make a perfect
orbicularis muscle.
. A Muscle which answers to the Zygomaticus in man, and which
has great power in this animal: it reaches from the ear to the

angle of the mouth. It opens the mouth, retracts the lips, and
disengages them from the teeth, as in seizing their prey.

. The Cutaneous Muscle. It sends up a web of fibres from the
neck on the side of the face: they are stronger here than in

man.

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

Prats IV.

BEING A VIEW OF THE NERVES OF THE HEAD.

In this Plate the two distinct classes of nerves which go to the face
are represented; the one to bestow sensation and mastication, and the
other for the motions of speaking and expression, that is, the motions
connected with the respiratory organs.

The spinal nerves on the side of the neck are also represented.
These I have discovered to be compound nerves, arising by double roots,
and possessing’ two functions; they control the muscular frame, and
bestow sensation upon the skin. Besides these regular spinal nerves,
which are for endowments common to all animals, the nerves of the
throat are represented. The latter nerves are the cords of sympathy
which, in the higher animals, connect the motions of the neck and throat
with the motions of the nostrils and lips; not merely during excited
respiration, but in the expression of passion.

A. The Respiratory Nerve of the Face; or, according to authors, the
Portio Dura of the seventh nerve. The nerve of motion of
the features : —

a. Branches ascending to the occipito-frontalis.

6. Branches which supply the eyelids.

e. Branches going to the muscles which move the nostrils
and lips.

d. Branches going down upon the side of the neck and
throat.

e. Superficial Cervical Plexus.

Jf: Connexions formed with the Cervical Nerves.

g- A nerve to the muscles on the back of the ear.

B. The Eighth Nerve, Par Vagum, or Grand Respiratory Nerve.

c. The Superior Respiratory Nerve, or Spinal Accessory Nerve.

p. Ninth Nerve, or Lingualis, the nerve of motion of the tongue.

E. Diaphragmatic Nerve.

F. Sympathetic Nerve.

G. Laryngeal Nerve.

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

H. Recurrent Laryngeal Nerve.

1. Glosso-Pharyngeal Nerve.
1. Frontal Nerve. A sensitive branch of the fifth nerve,

which I have proved to be the nerve of sensation and of
mastication, and to resemble the spinal nerves.

u. Superior Maxillary Nerve. A sensitive branch of the
fifth.

ir. Inferior Maxillary Nerve. A sensitive branch of the
fifth.
1v. Temporal Branches of the second division of the fifth,
which also give sensation.

y. Branch of the third division of the fifth, prolonged from
the motor root; it supplies the buccinator muscle and
angle of the mouth, associating these parts with the
muscles of the jaws in mastication.

vi. The Sub-occipital Nerve. The first of the spinal nerves
which bestow both motion and sensation.

vit. The Second Spinal Nerve.
vill. rx. Spinal Nerves.

THE END.

Cambridge University Library,
On permanent deposit from
the Botany School

LONDON :—PRINTED BY MOYES AND BARCLAY, CASTLE STREET,
LEICESTER SQUARE.

PRACTICAL ESSAYS.

STR CHARLES BELL, K.H. M.D. Gott. F.R.S. L. & E.
PROFESSOR OF SURGERY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH.
IN TWO PARTS.
1841-2.

Imperial 8vo.

Contents oF Parr I.

_ Of the Powers of Life to sustain Surgical Operations. ;
_ Of the different effects of bleeding from the Artery, and from the Vein.

. Of Squinting, and the attempt to remedy the Defect.

. Of Tic-Douloureux.
Part II.

. Of the Nerves of Respiration.

_ Of the Powers circulating the Blood.

. Subject continued.

_ Of the formidable Diseases of the Spine, as distin guished from Distortion.

PUBLISHED BY MACLACHLAN, STEWART, AND CO.
EDINBURGH ;
AND JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, LONDON.

Ee
Meet
seers

ay
a ae.

fetta

;
ae eee ed

be

Sek bs
Dies

Mal

*,
‘s.

SESE
i ms oe

shah antisera
Se Cee ee en as
as
% oats saa On
\ ea en
a
a

SS
eat ke
Sus Beate
SA
ws bes

eS aE,
NS
AR

ee ss
i aes
s SS a BS on MY aS
eres ie y
i s - Net ay
i ES

Seatatahs®
oe See :

RET renege oe STD
EA Setate SE AO NS ol a
ass

‘

By
geek
gape as
See Ae

en

hy

ssiste
Ree
at

Coen

se CFS hoe
se Sicahtetesiantanee allies OO DMR A SNS
the \ 2 as

.
es
xs

UGX
SER

. 5
Co
SS ee

eee
ea a

thes
oe

tous
Cae
ee
See
ar bt eh
States

ee
-

Re

cine

BB

e
oe

Feats,
Sis sie

*
oe

¢
Sot

ee
iS)

pe

2
seh Ae

See
ox

om
RS
een

sae

dow

Shir
ts *3

ame
patie

“te
PEP as
3 >
seo

ake
re.

oa

3

CY ie
. BRS
SS wt

es * .
SSNS RR
*
:

ta as
Sept
ies
ae a
~ ae ae

aS RU
Soe
sides betsrit etl

at
panna .

a
ma : nae

ee
oe
_ Kal

Oe
RoR
3
5 * = Merwe aeS
ate

Pes
See
ech ane
ee

Ae eas Ay
ERR Re
rm ee aw

o>,
we 8
re een
een
RETO

Mates
Pett een ees,
wos ate
Sen

ose

Leah eats

“
2,
ee
raat ee
Pore.
CRIES
One
eres St
inline

S
o
x

cal
; SSeS
* Ake
Sts SS

Ses

aS

(S40
>. fate

ie g

ie

tot!
am
vet
ae
ReSeeES
oe
2.
ites

ay)
Kote
pas
es

igs
te

ptks8
ey
Re
“ay aty
neat
py >

Set
is

is
sates

>
ieee sataset
EMeia nck ee

di orartty

Selotecetoaes

“
SP asates

(bin

FESO,
oe

ee
ates.

% a,

7

Lyjee

See
pete he NS.

Cesk

Se

ia

iS.
4
tase

»
er Hare
eee

Se

7
>

%
5

+ 0 eh
hake oe
COAT

ae
aa

ae
hake

ee ey
Hie per
vretetete rete tey
a

Se
eS
es

Se
it

»

re
‘S

-
S

~
¥
«

cS
es

5

ao
»

eS
iS

vr
%
,

Xe *
nig MY ‘5
Bre ts bn enaaa

Sek at

bead

>

ae

ee

ures

iS

aesetes
athe te te
a ot, saee reas

iG ses
aryth
years?

pa

SURE
See eee

a
“
At

Se

Be

é

‘s:

aa ox c
SED in
NS

<o
*

pid tatet?
Otte te
ehcatetatcs
CGR hak OO dS Kot 16 Oe very
Seca e bebe on 26 Oe ok oe a oe Rea ake
Seat Ge ot
vy Pe, 7
‘ isschenete teeeenced tases
sen tcate Se sigc anaes SAF ae

eters:

64 eGted