We doubt if any one colour, as we doubted of any one line, is the colour of beauty; and as to red representing life, possibly by resemblance to blood, speaking to the eye of Art, we should not say that redness is the best exponent of the beautiful flesh of human life. If so, it is most seen in earliest infancy, when it positively displeases. The young bird and young mouse create even disgust from this too visible blood-redness.
What is beauty? is quite another question from that of whether there is a line of beauty. Lines may be pleasing or displeasing, in a degree independent of the objects in which they happen to be. Lines that correspond in symmetry, as well as colours which agree in harmony, may exist in disagreeable objects, leaving yet the question of beauty to be answered; though beauty, whatever it is, may require this correspondence of parts, this order, this sympathy in symmetry.
Burke has separated the sublime from the beautiful. Mr Eastlake has, we suppose intentionally, with a view to his ulterior object, in this fragment omitted any such distinction. He may be the more judicious in this, as Burke admits ugliness into his Sublime.
It has been supposed that the ancient artists studied the forms of inferior animals for the purpose of embellishing the human. The bull and lion have been recognised in the heads of Jupiter and Hercules. Mr Eastlake lays stress upon the necessity in avoiding, in representing the human, every characteristic of the brute; and quotes Sir Charles Bell, who says, "I hold it to be an inevitable consequence of such a comparison, that they should discover that the perfection of the human form was to be attained by avoiding what was characteristic of the inferior animals, and increasing the proportions of those features which belong to man."
This is doubtless well put; but there is an extraordinary fact that seems to remove this characteristic peculiarity from the idea of beauty, however it may add it to the idea of perfection. Man is the only risible animal: risibility may be said, therefore, to be his distinguishing mark. If so, far from attributing any beauty to it, even when we admit its agreeability, we deny its beauty,—we even see in it distortion. Painters universally avoid representing it. They prefer the
"Santo, onesto, e grave ciglio."
Some have thought the smile, so successfully rendered by Correggio, the letting down of beauty into an inferior grace.
Perhaps the sum of the view taken by Mr Eastlake may be best shown by a quotation:—
"We have now briefly considered the principal æsthetic attributes of the organic and inorganic world. We have traced the influence of two leading principles of beauty—the visible evidence of character in form, and the visible evidence of the higher character of life. We have endeavoured to separate these from other auxiliary sources of agreeable impressions—such as the effect of colours, and the influences derived from the memory of the other senses. Lastly, all these elements have been kept independent of accidental and remote associations, since a reference to such sources of interest could only serve to complicate the question; and render the interpretation of nature less possible.
A third criterion remains; it is applicable to human beings, and to them only. Human beauty is then most complete, when it not only conforms to the archetypal standard of its species, when it not only exhibits in the greatest perfection the attributes of life, but when it most bears the impress of mind, controlling and spiritualising both." "The conclusion which the foregoing considerations appear to warrant, may be now briefly stated as follows:—Character is relative beauty—Life is the highest character—Mind is the highest life."
We confess, in conclusion, that we are not yet disposed to admit, from any thing we have read, that Burke's "Sublime and Beautiful" is superseded. We can as readily believe that the sublime and beautiful may be reunited in one view, as that it is optional to separate them. The sublime and the beautiful both belong to us as human beings, making their sensible impressions all sources of pleasure, greatly differing in kind. It is inseparable from our condition to have a sense of a being vastly superior to ourselves: sublimity has a reference to that superior power over us, and to ourselves, as subject to it: while it renders us inferior, it lifts our minds to the knowledge of the greater. Beauty, on the contrary, seems to look up to us for aid, support, or sympathy. It thus flatters while it pleases, and, in contradiction to the subduing influence of the sublime, it makes ourselves in some respects the superior, and puts us in good humour both with the object and ourselves.