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CHAPTER IV.

III. BEAUTY ATTACHES ONLY TO UTILITY.

1. Objective Utility.

THE next proposed law of beauty is that it exists only as it coexists with utility, a proposition, perhaps, which will not be so readily granted as the previous ones. Let us, however, bring the matter to the test. Utility is twosided, and may be objective or subjective according as its mental or material side is looked at: the former relates to material objects, the latter to mental faculties. Generally speaking, objective utility may be said to consist in things, and subjective utility in knowledge; we shall treat of the former first, reserving the latter for another chapter. This division, however, is only adopted for convenience, and will only be adhered to in a general way.

Useful things may be divided into two great categories: first, those which enable us to avoid pain; and secondly, those which enable us to secure pleasure. Among useful objects belonging to the first class we find most of the necessaries of life, e.g., wearing apparel, together with its accessories-boots, hats, umbrellas, soap, &c.; foods, such as bread, meat, vegetables, water, milk, &c. ; furniture, such as chairs, tables, beds, &c.; buildings, such as houses, offices, shops, warehouses, bridges; also streets, roads, paths, ships, wharfs, coal, candles, and other miscellaneous articles, which, in fact, may be termed generally the indispensables of civilised life. not, of course, be absolutely

Some of these articles may necessary to existence, but

they are all in some measure essential to society in refined communities, and their utility consists in enabling us to avoid pain or to procure pleasure. Many a man's life largely depends upon the produce brought in ships from far-off countries, although he knows hardly anything about marine commerce, and perhaps has never seen a ship in his life. Let ships be done away with, however, and mark what follows. The vegetables, or corn, or coals imported come to an end; other markets must be frequented; higher prices must be paid, and more anxiety and expense incurred. Failing other markets, new ground must be broken up and tilled and sown, trees must be cut down, or timber or turf must be bought and burned; and, altogether, other occupations must be neglected, harder work must be done, and, in most cases, less food must be consumed and more privations suffered. Thus ships must be classed among those articles which, at least, enable us to avoid pain. From these remarks it may be easy to understand how buildings, clothes, furniture, and the other objects named come under the same category. Houses protect us against the inclemency of the weather, against the scorching heat of the sun, the bad effects of the rain, of frost and snow and wind, which otherwise would bring on ague, colds, rheumatism, neuralgia, fever, and death. Law courts, business offices, &c., protect others from the like mischiefs while engaged in discharging their duties and making arrangements which are essential to the well-being of the nation.

The second class of useful articles-those which enable us to procure pleasure-consist of such things as follows: -Scents, sweetmeats, spices, condiments, delicate things to eat and drink, and soft and comfortable things to wear and sit upon, attractive things to look at, carpets, cushions, sofas, curtains, pictures, flowers, plants, musical instruments, song-birds, carriages, yachts, jewellery, ribbons, gloves, pets-in short, those things that are known as the luxuries of life, the superfluous comforts of existence. No

man would die or suffer bodily pain were he to be deprived of his diamond rings, his pickles, his portraits, his worked slippers, or his strawberries and cream; nor would a lady find life become unpleasant on being denied her gloves, her ribbons, her cushions, her rugs, her smelling-bottle, or her canaries. Such things as these increase the sensible pleasures of existence, and though by long use they come to be regarded by some as indispensable, and are, in fact, in some cases artificial necessaries, yet their loss implies neither labour nor pain, and would soon cease to be felt by a cheerful or contented mind.

Useless articles are such as do not serve us directly or indirectly in either of the above ways; and to prove that beauty does not attach to them, but is confined to utility, will be a somewhat negative task, and capable only of negative evidence. If something were asserted to be beautiful and yet admitted to be useless, there would be a definite point on which to make an attack; but if everything which is acknowledged to be beautiful can be shown to be useful, we are still outside the precincts of positive proof; and even negative evidence is not exhausted until every object of beauty has been dealt with and its utility established. We must, therefore, proceed hypothetically, nor need we at all regret being obliged to do so, for our hypothetical postulates will be found as satisfactory and conclusive as our empirical premises.

If there were such a thing in external nature as real immutable beauty, it stands to reason that we might have objects totally divested of utility and yet commanding our admiration. Nay, more, we would accumulate such objects in the interests of art, and receive the applause of our fellow-men for so doing. Are there any such objects? Are there any such accumulations? And what and where are they? I know of none such, but I shall try the experiment in the interests of science. I shall get an ornament constructed for my drawing-room table which shall be a mere ornament and nothing more; it shall not

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represent a bird, or a nest, or an egg, or a flower, or a fruit, or a shell, or a fish, or a dog, or a cat; for that would involve a lesson, however meagre, in natural history. It shall not represent a man, or a woman, or a child, or an occupation, or an incident, episode, phase, or condition of life, for that would involve a lesson, however poor, in moral philosophy. It shall not represent anything; yet in shape it shall combine the spherical with the cylindrical and the undulating; it shall have the "line of beauty;" it shall be perfectly smooth; and it shall have the best and purest colours, harmoniously arranged. Having placed this object on my table, I shall call in a neighbour and ask him to admire it. "What is it?" he asks. "It is an ornament," I reply. "Well, but what is it for?" he continues. "It is for nothing but ornament; is it not a beautiful thing?" I answer. "Nay," Nay,” persists my neighbour, "I cannot tell you whether it is beautiful or not until I know what purpose it will serve. What is your motive in putting it on your table?" have no other motive than that of attracting attention and awakening admiration, and the thing can serve no other purpose; it is simply a beautiful object, meant to be looked at and admired, nothing more," I answer. "Well," rejoins my friend, "in that case I cannot say I admire your taste. Your thing is undoubtedly round, and smooth, and curved, and of very fine and brilliant hues; but if it is utterly without use, I really cannot help thinking that it is utterly without beauty. It seems to me a very extraordinary ornament, and, in fact, a ridiculous-looking object. Pray what might it be made of?" "It is made of boxwood and ivory, carefully carved and exquisitely stained and polished, and see how gracefully it rotates." Take my advice," responds my neighbour, "and have it removed. Cut it up and make pegtops or chessmen of it; it is only in the way on your table. You will get no one to admire it, and every one you show it to will laugh at it." Now this episode, we may be verily assured, is

what, under the circumstances indicated, would really happen; for it necessarily follows from the fact that colour, shape, and motion, though they cause pleasant sensations in the mind, are never in themselves objects of admiration, nor can they be admired when co-existent unless they be found to inhere in something possessing a greater amount of utility than the mere optic sensations are capable of constituting. The mere pleasure of such sensations undoubtedly constitutes utility of a certain value, but owing to the microscopic intensity of such pleasure, the great difficulty of making it out and distinguishing it satisfactorily from all considerations of the nature and end of the object in which it is found, and the liability of such pleasure to be swallowed up by the emotions generated by reflection on the ulterior value of the object itself, these pleasurable sensations are insufficient, without the assistance of some more tangible utility, to redeem the object from contempt.

Flowers will afford an appropriate illustration of the foregoing remarks. For what is the utility of flowers? Is it anything more than colour, shape, and motion? Assuredly it is. Their utility is made up of a structural organism and a physiological system containing a mine of wonderful instruction and constituting a science in itself. The lessons to be derived from the structure and physiology of plants are varied and innumerable; they elevate the mind to the contemplation of that “ one stupendous whole whose body nature is and God the soul," and of which flowers are little representative fragments; they are equal to the acquisition of a language; they are worth the society of men whose acquaintance is said to be a liberal education. Add to this the delicious fragrance which so many garden flowers exhale, and which constitutes a very tangible utility; where this is wanting, however, observe the excellent richness, variety, and purity of colour which the majority of garden flowers display-hues with which no artistic imitations can for