Kala, the Romans pulchra, the French beaux, and so on, all applying to the same things their respective words of the same meaning as the English word beautiful. The matter does not depend upon the accidents of any language, but enjoys the assent of all. It must, therefore, be due to the universal observation of some reality connected with the perception of all these objects. For it is not possible that the universal language of man should be false to the consciousness of man. If it should be advanced that the common name represents only the common feature of pleasureableness, the reply is obvious, that we already have a full supply of words for that purpose. We speak of pleasure, and pleasureable, and pleasant things, and the pleasant in things, and of the pleasant and the beautiful, as expressing different conceptions, and of the things to which they refer as frequently standing toward each other in the relation of cause and effect. The word beauty must represent something which occurs to the mind of man as a reality, however little we may have succeeded in defining it to each other as such. It is either some faculty of mind, common to all those thinkers, or some quality of things, common to all the specimens mentioned. But it cannot be the existence of any common quality in the objects. For what quality is common to the green of the fields, the outline of a circle, the human figure, the proportions of arithmetic, the ideas of utility, of truth, and the emotions of gratitude and love! If not a quality of the objects, then it must be

some condition of the sentient being, an emotion of the observing mind.

Taking this conclusion to be correct, we shall use the word beauty to mean an emotion; beautiful, to characterize an object calculated to awaken the emotion; and the beautiful shall be employed to designate the immediate antecedent of the emotion, whatever it may be the unknown quantity proposed for solution.

Sensation takes cognizance of the properties of external things; but emotion always follows an intellectual state of perception or conception. The operation of perception and sensation is between the mind and the external world; but the intercourse of conception and emotion is entirely within the mind.

Now, the points demanding elucidation appear to be these: the peculiar nature of the emotion called beauty; what is its immediate intellectual antecedent; how it becomes to be connected with such a variety of objects; what is the particular feature contemplated in each class of objects; and what practical rules can be obtained.

CHAPTER II.

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE EMOTION OF BEAUTY,

It does not belong to philosophy to account for the fact of existence in any part of nature. The properties and relations of things are subject to inquiry, but existence is the bottom upon which our sounding lead must rest, and beyond which it can not go. For the fact of an emotion which we call beauty, no reason can be assigned save the Creator's will; and any one may recognize and distinguish it from all other feelings, by brief consultation with his own heart. Not that all are endued with the same susceptibility, for there is the greatest diversity; but it is difficult to conceive of any human being who has not experienced it in some degree, so as to recognize its peculiar features when mentioned.

Beauty is a highly pleasurable emotion, yet by no means to be confounded with pleasure. There are pleasures which are turbulent, stormy, gross; but none such receive from popular language the honor of this name. A beautiful object may at first excite by the surprise attendant on novelty; but, when contemplated

in its own proper and unmingled light, the state to which it disposes the observer is that of repose—a state in which imagination wanders, uncommanded, from the agreeable impressions of the sense to all the associations which they recall, selecting from the most diversified experiences a wealth of homogeneous delight. Beauty, though a principle of great power in the human spirit, is calm and gentle in its operations. Though near of kindred to sublimity, the difference between them furnishes enough of contrast to aid in the description of both. They agree in conferring a pure and elevated delight, the noblest handmaid of religion; but while the one is quiet, the other is bold; the one soothing, the other exciting. Beauty leads in her train admiration and love; sublimity is attended by wonder, reverence, and awe. Nor is the difference of their effect upon the physical man less distinguishable. Sublimity produces a tension of the muscles, and nervous excitement, which soon wears out the subject of it. Such was the grandeur of conception and style of the celebrated Robert Hall, that often his audience unconsciously arose from their seats; and when Massilon, preaching on the fewness of the elect, pictured the entrance of the Saviour to judgment, and the separation of the righteous from the wicked, the whole assembly arose simultaneously, in deep and solemn silence. But not even Hall or Massilon could have maintained that degree of excitement beyond a brief period. The mortal frame can not long endure such overpowering

emotion. The effect of beauty, on the other hand, is to relax the muscles and incline the body to quiescence. The visitor to Lake Como or Geneva may on other occasions be roused to energy in proclaiming their perfections, but in presence of the objects of his admiration, he prefers to remain at rest, to gaze in silence, and enjoy the contemplation, for hours. Prolonged meditation produces no exhaustion, being itself conducive to tranquillity, and calculated to calm all the troubles of the spirit. Or, to recur to the more common experience of him who in hours of reverie yields. to the control of feelings arising in the course of unrestrained suggestion, while visions of beauty pass before his imagination, he naturally seeks an attitude of rest, and, for the period of their duration, continues forgetful alike of motion and the flight of time; but should a sublime idea flash upon him, the effect is immediately apparent in a more erect attitude, if he does not even bound to his feet and stride across his room, to aid, as it were, in expressing an emotion which is too great for him. In a few moments the excitement has passed away, and he sinks into quiet contemplation of the resultant beauty, which is always the ultimate effect of an object truly sublime. So mirth, or grief, or joy, or surprise, may prompt to activity; but when they result in beauty, the mind naturally subsides into

repose.

Hence, whatever other excellence a work of art may have, without the element of repose it is greatly