Notes on Noses

by Eden Warwick

The list given is more extensive than usual; yet it might be much extended, and should comprise all the greatest names in Theology, Science, and Art.

It has been said, that “the form of the Nose in profile, decides the turn which the Cogitative power will take.” Thus the Romano-Cogitative will prefer to exercise its cogitativeness in the bustle of active life, and Washington and Cromwell present remarkable proofs of the truth of this assertion. Another striking instance is the energetic and fervent John Knox, who bearded monarchs on their thrones, and lawless nobles in their strongholds.

But we must again guard the reader against the assumption that energy of character can only be displayed in physical action.

The energy of the Romano-Cogitative may display itself in a vigorous and nervous style of literary composition, and so be distinguished from the beauty and euphony indicated by the Greco-Cogitative. The former will disregard style, if it interfere with the force and power of expression, or weakens the vigour and terseness of an important paragraph; while the latter will labour and polish his style till the sense is almost obliterated, and little remains but a beautiful and melodious sound.

Luther, whose Nose was highly Roman, is an illustrious example that Power and Energy may be displayed otherwise than in physical action, and many other examples might be cited, were it necessary to substantiate a proposition which every reader may confirm for himself by examination of any accurately illustrated General Biography. But we cite Luther, because he presents a contrast, both in feature and mind, to many other men of the same nation, warm friends, ardently embarked in the same cause, impressed with the same truths, and equally desirous to propagate them for the enlightenment and salvation of their fellow-men.

In Luther we behold a man of intense Energy and undaunted Firmness; bold, forward, ever rushing into action; attacking Falsehood everywhere; volunteering his theses; challenging disputation; ever in wars of words, regardless of danger; fearless of death, imprisonment, or torture; reckless whom he offended—rather seeking to offend—careless of other’s feelings; coarse, violent, and repulsive in language; indifferent in what terms he propounded truth or exposed error. Thus did the intense Energy, prompt Decision, and immovable Firmness, with the coarseness and disregard to his own and others’ physical welfare, indicated by his Roman Nose, display themselves in Luther, to his own detriment, the sorrow of his friends, the loss of many adherents, and the still-continued scoffs of the enemies and the censure of the friends of the Reformation.

In contrast with the fully-developed Cogitativeness of the Noses of Luther, Wickliff, Cranmer, and other leaders in the Reformation, may be placed the Nose of a man who was called to take a prominent part in the same movement, but whose deficiency in thoughtfulness and serious determination paralyzed his usefulness, and flung him back into the abyss of Romanism, from which his soul naturally revolted. We allude to Erasmus. His nose was a sharp Greek nose, indicative of the refinement and delicacy of mind which made him a Reformer in heart, and of the want of cogitative power which disabled him from joining the good cause when adherence to it called for serious enterprise and thoughtful energy. He was content to be a Reformer in heart only, and thus became the lukewarm enemy of both Romanists and Protestants. He lashed the vices and follies of the monks in sharp satires; but he shrunk from interference when the intensely energetic and Roman-Nosed Luther would have annihilated them.

The historian of the Reformation thus describes him.[^[22]] “In the result Erasmus knew not on which side to range himself. None pleased him, and he dreaded all. ‘It is dangerous to speak,’ said he, ‘and dangerous to be silent.’ In all great religious movements there are such undecided characters—respectable in some things, but hindering the truth, and who, from a desire to displease no one, displease all.” Erasmus, though a clever and learned man, lacked the wisdom and sagacity necessary to penetrate the future. He could criticize a Greek historian, and correct the Greek Testament, but he could not discern the signs of the times. Timid and retiring by nature, he feared to fail in the contest with the spirits of darkness; he had no confidence in the righteousness of the cause of the Reformation, and, knowing his constitutional weakness, shrunk from the penalties of failure. A sagacity and power of penetration equal to that of his more cogitative brother-Reformers would have cured his cowardice by shewing him its causelessness. Luther, on the other hand, feared nothing; he knew that the truth, if energetically urged, must prevail,—though it would be crushed, if permitted to lie quietly dormant. Truth will not conquer of its own force; it must be promulgated, insisted on, and brought home to men’s minds. They will not seek it, preferring rather to enjoy the peaceable stagnation of error. While Luther was respected and admired even by his bitterest enemies, Erasmus was despised by all parties. His vacillation was aptly hit off by a cotemporary, who, in one of his works depicting two heavens, the Papal and the Christian, says, “I find Erasmus in neither; but perceive him incessantly wheeling, in never-ending eddies between both.” Certainly a fitting destination for the man who advises his friend to dissemble his opinions, as a certain dying man eluded the devil. The devil asked him what he believed? The dying man, fearing to be surprised into some heresy, answered, “What the Church believes.” “What does the Church believe?” persisted his Satanic enemy. “What I believe,” replied the cautious man. Again, the devil, “And what do you believe?” “What the Church believes.” Whereupon the devil, being unable to convict him of lax Churchism, left him to the mercy of the Pope, who, he knew, would deal with him after his—gifts for pious uses.

If the pencil of the Artist be the adopted vehicle of thought, the natural differences of character will be equally betrayed. Thus the Romano-Cogitative Michael Angelo exhibited the thoughtful energy of his mind in a fervid and exaggerated opinion of the fiercest passions, and delighted in representations—not always the most refined—of scenes from which most minds revolt, to which he even added a horror all his own. The exaggerated action and muscular development of Michael Angelo’s figures, the gigantic scale on which he preferred to draw them, and the stupendous works which he unhesitatingly undertook, betray an energetic and coarse mind, quite accordant with his Roman profile. The Greek-Nosed Raffaelle, on the other hand, paid exclusive attention to beauty of form, and the pourtraying of the gentler and more amiable sentiments, especially of the female character. He was never betrayed into any extravagancies of action or passion; but delighted to dwell on the peaceful holiness and gentle sentiment of the Virgin Mother and the Infant Jesus, or the graceful virtues of the female saints.