Application of this Theory.—Such, in brief outline, is the theory. Let us see now whether it is applicable to the different forms of beauty, and whether it furnishes a satisfactory explanation and account of them.
Surveying the different forms of being, we find among them different degrees of beauty. Does, then, every thing which is beautiful express or manifest, through the medium, and, as it were, under the veil, of the material form, the presence of the invisible spiritual element? and the more beautiful it is, does it so much the more plainly and directly manifest this element?
The Theory applied to inorganic Forms.—And first, to begin with the lowest, how is it with the inanimate, inorganic, merely chemical forms of matter? Here we have certain lines, certain figures, certain colors, that we call beautiful. What do they express of the higher or spiritual element of being? In themselves, and directly, they express nothing, perhaps. Yet are they not, after all, suggestive, symbolical of an idea and spirit dwelling, not in them, but in him who made them, of the Creator's idea and spirit, inarticulate expressions, mere natural signs, of a higher principle than dwells in these poor forms? Do they not suggest and express to us ideas of grace, elegance, delicacy, and the like? Do we not find ourselves attracted by, and, in a sort, in sympathy with these forms, as thus significant and expressive? Is it not thus that lines, and figures, and mathematical forms, the regular and sharply cut angles of the crystal, the light that flashes on its polished surface, or lies hid in beautiful color within it, the order, proportion, and movement, by fixed laws, of the various forms of matter, appear beautiful to us? For what are order, proportion, regularity, harmony, and movement, by fixed laws, and what are elegance, and grace of outline and figure, but so many signs and expressions of a higher intelligence?
Theory applied to vegetable Forms.—Passing onward and upward in the scale of being, taking into view, now, the organic forms of vegetable life, do we not find a more definite articulate expression of the spiritual and invisible under the material form? The flower that blooms in our path, the sturdy tree that throws out its branches against the sky, or droops pensively, as if weighed down by some hidden sorrow, address us more directly, speak more intimately to our spirits, than the mere crystal can do, however elegant its form, or definite its outline. They express sentiments, not ideas merely. They respond to the sensibilities, they appeal to the inner life of the soul. They are strong or weak, timid or bold, joyous or melancholy. It requires no vigorous exercise of fancy to attribute to them the sensibilities which they awaken in us. When in lively communion and sympathy with nature, we can hardly resist the conviction that the emotions which she calls into play in our own bosoms are, somehow, her own emotions also; that under these forms so expressive, so full of meaning to us, there lurks an intelligence, a soul.
To the animal Kingdom.—In the animal kingdom, this invisible spiritual principle, the energy that lies hidden under all forms of animate and organized substance, becomes yet more strongly and obviously developed. The approach is nearer, and the appeal is more direct, to our own spiritual nature. We perceive signs, not to be mistaken, of intelligence and of feeling; passion betrays itself, love, hate, fear, the very principles of our own spiritual being, the very image of our own higher nature. Beauty and deformity are now more strongly marked than in the lower degrees of the scale of being.
To Man.—In man we reach the highest stage of animal existence with which we are conversant, the highest degree of life, intelligence, soul—the being in whom the spiritual shines forth most clearly through the material veil—and, shall we not say also, the being most beautiful of all? The highest style of beauty to be found in nature pertains to the human form, as animated and lighted up by the intelligence within. It is the expression of the soul that constitutes this superior beauty. It is that which looks out at the eye which sits in calm majesty on the brow, lurks in the lip, smiles on the cheek, is set forth in the chiselled lines and features of the countenance, in the general contour of figure and form, and the particular shading and expression of the several parts, in the movement, and gesture, and tone; it is this looking out of the invisible spirit that dwells within, through the portals of the visible, this manifestation of the higher nature, that we admire and love; this constitutes to us the beauty of our species. Hence it is that certain features, not in themselves, perhaps, particularly attractive, wanting, it may be, in certain regularity of outline, or in certain delicacy and softness, are still invested with a peculiar charm and radiance of beauty from their peculiar expressiveness and animation. The light of genius, or the superior glow of sympathy, and a noble heart, play upon those plain, and, it may be, homely features, and light them up with a brilliant and regal beauty. Those, as every artist knows, are precisely the features most difficult to portray. The expression changes with the instant. The beauty flashes, and is gone, or gives place to a still higher beauty, as the light that plays in fitful corruscations along the northern sky, coming and going, but never still.
Man not the highest Type of Beauty.—Is then the human form the highest expression of the principle of beauty? It can hardly be; for in man, as in all things on the earth, is mingled along with the beauty much that is deformed, with the excellence much imperfection. We can conceive forms superior to his, faces radiant with a beauty that sin has never darkened, nor passion nor sorrow dimmed. We can conceive forms of beauty more perfect, purer, brighter, loftier than any thing that human eye hath seen or human ear heard. We conceive them, however, as existing only under some sensible form, as manifest in some way to sense, and the beauty with which we invest them is the beauty of the spiritual expressing itself in the outward and visible. It is the province of imagination to fashion these conceptions, and of art to attempt their realization. This, the poet, the painter, the sculptor, the architect, the orator, each in his way, is ever striving to do, to present under sensible forms, the ideal of a more perfect loveliness and excellence than the actual world affords.
This ideal can never be adequately and fully represented. The perfection of beauty dwells alone with God.
Consideration in favor of the Theory now explained.—It is in favor of the theory now under consideration, that it seems thus more nearly to meet and account for the various phenomena of beauty, than any other of those which have passed under our review, and that it accounts for them, withal, on a principle so simple and obvious. The crystal, the violet, the graceful spreading elm, the drooping willow, the statue, the painting, the musical composition, the grand cathedral, whatever in nature, whatever in art is beautiful, all mean something, all express something, and in this lies their beauty; and we are moved by them, because we, who have a soul, and in whom the spiritual nature predominates, can understand and sympathize with that which these forms of nature and art, in their semi-articulate way, seem all striving to express.
The Ideas thus expressed pertain not to Nature but to the divine Mind.—It is not necessary that, with the ancient Greeks, we should conceive of nature, as having herself an intelligent soul of these forms as themselves conscious of their own meaning and beauty. It is enough that we recognize them as conveying a sentiment and meaning not their own, but his who made them, and made them representative and expressive of his own beautiful thought. Words are not the only modes of expression. The soul speaks more earnestly and eloquently often in signs than in words. And when God speaks to men, he does it not always in the barren forms of human speech, but in the flower that he places by my path, in the tree, the mountain, the rolling ocean, the azure firmament. These are his words, and they are beautiful, and, when he will, they are terrible. Happy he who, in all these manifestations, recognizes the voice of God.