to ours, that will behold in such persons greater virtues than in any who are by nature inclined to goodness. These, however, will be brought as examples of the deformed virtuous. So be it; such deformities, nevertheless, are only faithful expressions of the vices which long were predominant, and the multitude of which do but enhance the worth of present virtue. How much greater was the deformity of the features before the power of this virtue was felt, and how much more beautiful have they since become! . . . I walk in the multitude, I contemplate the vulgar; I go through villages, small towns and great; and everywhere, among all ranks, I behold deformity, I view the lamentable, the dreadful ravages of destruction. I constantly find that the vulgar collectively, whether of nation or village, are the most distorted. . . . Let us compare the inhabitants of a house of correction, where we find the stupid, the indolent, and the drunken, with some other society in a more improved state. However imperfect it may be, yet will the difference be visible. Let us add to this an inseparable truth, which is, that not only the flexible parts of the countenance, but also the whole system, bones and muscles, figure, complexion, voice, gait, and smell, every member corresponding with the countenance may be vitiated and deformed or rendered more beautiful. . . . Each frequently repeated change, form, and state of countenance impresses at length a durable trait on the soft and flexible parts of the face. The stronger the change and the oftener it is repeated, the stronger, deeper, and more indelible is the trait.

...

An agreeable change by constant repetition makes an impression on, and adds a feature of durable beauty to, the countenance" (and an analogous remark applies to disagreeable changes). . . . "A number of such beautiful changes, when combined, if not counteracted, impart beauty to the face, and many deformed changes impart deformity. . . . Morally beautiful states of mind impart beautiful impressions, therefore the same changes inces

santly repeated stamp durable expressions of beauty on the countenance," and the like of vicious changes and deformity.

The great difficulty of distinguishing the slight but important differences that register themselves in the countenance in obedience to the dictates of mental propensities, the difficulty of judging of the direction in which a mind is travelling, cannot be too strongly insisted on. Indeed this difficulty is so great, that, until it is removed by closer study and more precise results, it will ever prevent physiognomy from being ranked among the sciences, and perhaps even from being considered as a profitable study, or a reliable source of information. It is a difficulty which causes the most painstaking physiognomist to be himself constantly deceived in his judgment, and one which operates so potently against all other persons, that most people are never tired of declaiming against the deceitfulness of appearances. Nevertheless the elementary principles of physiognomy are so evident, that nobody will cease to put their trust in them: we will neither abstain from preaching against the fallacy of appearances nor yet refuse to act upon those very appearances. Hence Shakspere makes Duncan, when deceived in his opinion of Cawdor, denounce physiognomy as an untrustworthy creed-"There is no art to read the mind's construction in the face; he was a gentleman on whom I built an absolute trust." And hence also he makes Miranda, when Ferdinand is accused by Prospero of meanness and treachery, defend him by saying "There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple; if the ill spirit have so fair a house, good things will strive to dwell with it." The same opinion runs, sometimes wittingly, sometimes unwittingly, through every kind of poetry, and many indeed are the verses dedicated to "a countenance in which did meet sweet records, promises as sweet;" and even where the conduct is denounced, features that are admired are ever held to carry some sanctification with them; "for

passions linked to forms so fair and stately needs must have their share of noble sentiment."

"1

If the principles above cited or advanced be just—and I must confess my inability to understand how they can be proved otherwise-we need go no farther to show that the beauty of the human countenance attaches, like all other beauty, to utility; for if we admire a face because it teaches us where superior mental qualities are to be found, because it is the herald of a virtuous mind, does not this mean that we expect some good from the owner of the countenance? Do we not look for advantage from the person whom we believe to be upright, sympathetic, and sincere? Do we not anticipate some benefit, either directly to ourselves or indirectly through others, from one whom we believe to be honest, faithful, and benevolent? Do we not connect something good, either intellectually to the understanding or tangibly to the senses, with one whom we regard as self-denying, honourable, and open-hearted? Do we not look for an improvement to society, to mankind at large, and thus ultimately to ourselves, from such characters as we call pure-minded, conscientious, patient, temperate, forbearing, loving, compassionate, long-suffering, generous, gentle ? And do we not apprehend mischief, trouble, danger, annoyance, injury, want, unpleasantness, degradation, shame, &c., from the absence of the abovenamed virtues or from the presence of their contrariesdeceitfulness, dishonesty, insincerity, truculence, treachery, malignity, meanness, avarice, spitefulness, heartlessness, cruelty, selfishness, revengefulness, greediness, ingratitude, ill-temper, petulance, impatience, coldness, intemperance, craftiness, faithlessness, cowardice? And, lastly, do we not expect nothing good, profitable, beneficial, advantageous, pleasant, or agreeable, but rather what is inconvenient and vexatious, and mortifying and humiliating, from those who are without virtue and without vicethose who are weak-minded, empty-headed, foolish, igno

1 Wordsworth's "Ruth."

rant, imbecile, idiotic, silly, stupid, incapable? If this be so, we can readily account for the many and various degrees of beauty, ugliness, and plainness into which we have divided personal appearance in our own species. We admire the beautiful because they are virtuous, and thus advantageous; we despise the ugly because they are not virtuous, and thus not advantageous; we hate and fear the hideous because they are vicious, and thus dangerous; for the most abominable countenances are properly described, not as mean or ugly, but as hideous, since we do not contemn so much as fear them.

Statuary and Painting. This being the case, we have ample explanation of the admiration which is accorded to the works of sculptors and painters; for those classes of workers confessedly deal with what is beautiful and sublime; and, indeed, their profession absorbs most of the meaning attached to the word artist. All such artists are obliged to be anatomists and physiognomists of no ordinary stamp; they are supposed to have a correct appreciation of human beauty in its most perfect forms and types; and they are expected to bring those forms and types before the common gaze in order that it may be instructed as to what it should admire and what it should esteem. It is their chosen office to draw public attention to what is admirable and estimable, to familiarise the public eye with what is comely and excellent, and, by eliciting general applause for what is magnificent, to promote reverence for what is great and love for what is good. Hence every piece of sculpture and every piece of painting should contain a moral or a lesson in life or conduct. It is not enough that men and women are portrayed with fidelity; the women so portrayed ought to be beautiful and the men handsome or sublime. It is not enough that scenes and episodes are depicted to perfection; the scenes ought to be desirable and the episodes praiseworthy. It is not enough to applaud the execution; we should appreciate the moral. Thus the utility of statues and

pictures is didactic; such objects "teach the young idea how to shoot," and fill the mind with aspirations after what is noble, and illustrious, and good. Every statue and every picture which violates these conditions is not beautiful, is not admirable. If the features are not beautiful or handsome or great, if the scene does not teach a lesson in one or other of the virtues, from the thrift of the cottage to the self-sacrifice of the martyr, the work will be faulty, disappointing, and in bad taste. True, such works are wrought, and true, people are found to admire them. True, we sometimes see representations of the ugly and the wicked, and of scenes without any indication of humanity, without a human being, without a house, without a ruin, without anything whatever to connect the picture with mankind, and true, persons are found to praise and purchase such works. But this is no more an argument against the necessity of utility in beauty than irrational and perverse decisions are an argument against the necessity of wisdom in virtue. Persons have been found capable of holding almost any opinions, however foolish or perverted; but reason, argument, education will inevitably undermine such errors; culture will reclaim what ignorance yielded; maturity will demand back what inexperience advanced.

Statuary deals chiefly with persons; painting with persons and things. The latter may include the fairest scenes in nature-the valley, the mountain, the meadow, the sea; but there ought to be a ship on the sea, a mower in the meadow, a peasant on the mountain, a maiden in the valley. There ought, at least, to be some element of human nature present. If not, there can be no moral, no utility, and therefore no beauty. Ugliness is sometimes depicted in order to elicit our disgust, but this mode of inculcating morals is negative compared with the other. It is, therefore, much less effective, and consequently much less practised.

Poetry boasts a wider empire than the other arts, for it