CHAPTER III : BEAUTY.

A NOBLER want of man is served by nature, namely, the love ofrnBeauty.rnrnThe ancient Greeks called the world _kosmos_, beauty. Such is thernconstitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye,rnthat the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal,rngive us a delight _in and for themselves_; a pleasure arising fromrnoutline, color, motion, and grouping. This seems partly owing to therneye itself. The eye is the best of artists. By the mutual action of itsrnstructure and of the laws of light, perspective is produced, whichrnintegrates every mass of objects, of what character soever, into arnwell colored and shaded globe, so that where the particular objectsrnare mean and unaffecting, the landscape which they compose, isrnround and symmetrical. And as the eye is the best composer, so lightrnis the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense lightrnwill not make beautiful. And the stimulus it affords to the sense, andrna sort of infinitude which it hath, like space and time, make allrnmatter gay. Even the corpse has its own beauty. But besides thisrngeneral grace diffused over nature, almost all the individual formsrnare agreeable to the eye, as is proved by our endless imitations ofrnsome of them, as the acorn, the grape, the pine-cone, the wheat-ear,rnthe egg, the wings and forms of most birds, the lion's claw, thernserpent, the butterfly, sea-shells, flames, clouds, buds, leaves, andrnthe forms of many trees, as the palm.rnrnFor better consideration, we may distribute the aspects of Beauty inrna threefold manner.rnrn1. First, the simple perception of natural forms is a delight. Therninfluence of the forms and actions in nature, is so needful to man,rnthat, in its lowest functions, it seems to lie on the confines ofrncommodity and beauty. To the body and mind which have beenrncramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal andrnrestores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the dinrnand craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a manrnagain. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eyernseems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we canrnsee far enough.rnrnBut in other hours, Nature satisfies by its loveliness, and without anyrnmixture of corporeal benefit. I see the spectacle of morning from thernhill-top over against my house, from day-break to sun-rise, withrnemotions which an angel might share. The long slender bars ofrncloud float like fishes in the sea of crimson light. From the earth, asrna shore, I look out into that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapidrntransformations: the active enchantment reaches my dust, and Irndilate and conspire with the morning wind. How does Nature deifyrnus with a few and cheap elements! Give me health and a day, and Irnwill make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria;rnthe sun-set and moon-rise my Paphos, and unimaginable realms ofrnfaerie; broad noon shall be my England of the senses and thernunderstanding; the night shall be my Germany of mystic philosophyrnand dreams.rnrnNot less excellent, except for our less susceptibility in the afternoon,rnwas the charm, last evening, of a January sunset. The western cloudsrndivided and subdivided themselves into pink flakes modulated withrntints of unspeakable softness; and the air had so much life andrnsweetness, that it was a pain to come within doors. What was it thatrnnature would say? Was there no meaning in the live repose of thernvalley behind the mill, and which Homer or Shakspeare could notrnreform for me in words? The leafless trees become spires of flame inrnthe sunset, with the blue east for their back-ground, and the stars ofrnthe dead calices of flowers, and every withered stem and stubblernrimed with frost, contribute something to the mute music.rnrnThe inhabitants of cities suppose that the country landscape isrnpleasant only half the year. I please myself with the graces of thernwinter scenery, and believe that we are as much touched by it as byrnthe genial influences of summer. To the attentive eye, each momentrnof the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds,rnevery hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shallrnnever be seen again. The heavens change every moment, and reflectrntheir glory or gloom on the plains beneath. The state of the crop inrnthe surrounding farms alters the expression of the earth from weekrnto week. The succession of native plants in the pastures andrnroadsides, which makes the silent clock by which time tells thernsummer hours, will make even the divisions of the day sensible to arnkeen observer. The tribes of birds and insects, like the plantsrnpunctual to their time, follow each other, and the year has room forrnall. By water-courses, the variety is greater. In July, the bluernpontederia or pickerel-weed blooms in large beds in the shallowrnparts of our pleasant river, and swarms with yellow butterflies inrncontinual motion. Art cannot rival this pomp of purple and gold.rnIndeed the river is a perpetual gala, and boasts each month a newrnornament.rnrnBut this beauty of Nature which is seen and felt as beauty, is thernleast part. The shows of day, the dewy morning, the rainbow,rnmountains, orchards in blossom, stars, moonlight, shadows in stillrnwater, and the like, if too eagerly hunted, become shows merely, andrnmock us with their unreality. Go out of the house to see the moon,rnand 't is mere tinsel; it will not please as when its light shines uponrnyour necessary journey. The beauty that shimmers in the yellowrnafternoons of October, who ever could clutch it? Go forth to find it,rnand it is gone: 't is only a mirage as you look from the windows ofrndiligence.rnrn2. The presence of a higher, namely, of the spiritual element isrnessential to its perfection. The high and divine beauty which can bernloved without effeminacy, is that which is found in combinationrnwith the human will. Beauty is the mark God sets upon virtue. Everyrnnatural action is graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causesrnthe place and the bystanders to shine. We are taught by great actionsrnthat the universe is the property of every individual in it. Everyrnrational creature has all nature for his dowry and estate. It is his, ifrnhe will. He may divest himself of it; he may creep into a corner, andrnabdicate his kingdom, as most men do, but he is entitled to the worldrnby his constitution. In proportion to the energy of his thought andrnwill, he takes up the world into himself. "All those things for whichrnmen plough, build, or sail, obey virtue;" said Sallust. "The windsrnand waves," said Gibbon, "are always on the side of the ablestrnnavigators." So are the sun and moon and all the stars of heaven.rnWhen a noble act is done,--perchance in a scene of great naturalrnbeauty; when Leonidas and his three hundred martyrs consume onernday in dying, and the sun and moon come each and look at themrnonce in the steep defile of Thermopylae; when Arnold Winkelried,rnin the high Alps, under the shadow of the avalanche, gathers in hisrnside a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line for his comrades; arernnot these heroes entitled to add the beauty of the scene to the beautyrnof the deed? When the bark of Columbus nears the shore ofrnAmerica;--before it, the beach lined with savages, fleeing out of allrntheir huts of cane; the sea behind; and the purple mountains of thernIndian Archipelago around, can we separate the man from the livingrnpicture? Does not the New World clothe his form with herrnpalm-groves and savannahs as fit drapery? Ever does natural beauty stealrnin like air, and envelope great actions. When Sir Harry Vane wasrndragged up the Tower-hill, sitting on a sled, to suffer death, as thernchampion of the English laws, one of the multitude cried out to him,"You never sate on so glorious a seat." Charles II., to intimidate therncitizens of London, caused the patriot Lord Russel to be drawn in anrnopen coach, through the principal streets of the city, on his way tornthe scaffold. "But," his biographer says, "the multitude imaginedrnthey saw liberty and virtue sitting by his side." In private places,rnamong sordid objects, an act of truth or heroism seems at once torndraw to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its candle. Naturernstretcheth out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be ofrnequal greatness. Willingly does she follow his steps with the rosernand the violet, and bend her lines of grandeur and grace to therndecoration of her darling child. Only let his thoughts be of equalrnscope, and the frame will suit the picture. A virtuous man is inrnunison with her works, and makes the central figure of the visiblernsphere. Homer, Pindar, Socrates, Phocion, associate themselves fitlyrnin our memory with the geography and climate of Greece. Thernvisible heavens and earth sympathize with Jesus. And in commonrnlife, whosoever has seen a person of powerful character and happyrngenius, will have remarked how easily he took all things along withrnhim,--the persons, the opinions, and the day, and nature becamernancillary to a man.rnrn3. There is still another aspect under which the beauty of the worldrnmay be viewed, namely, as it becomes an object of the intellect.rnBeside the relation of things to virtue, they have a relation to thought.rnThe intellect searches out the absolute order of things as they standrnin the mind of God, and without the colors of affection. Thernintellectual and the active powers seem to succeed each other, andrnthe exclusive activity of the one, generates the exclusive activity ofrnthe other. There is something unfriendly in each to the other, butrnthey are like the alternate periods of feeding and working in animals;rneach prepares and will be followed by the other. Therefore doesrnbeauty, which, in relation to actions, as we have seen, comesrnunsought, and comes because it is unsought, remain for thernapprehension and pursuit of the intellect; and then again, in its turn,rnof the active power. Nothing divine dies. All good is eternallyrnreproductive. The beauty of nature reforms itself in the mind, andrnnot for barren contemplation, but for new creation.rnrnAll men are in some degree impressed by the face of the world;rnsome men even to delight. This love of beauty is Taste. Others havernthe same love in such excess, that, not content with admiring, theyrnseek to embody it in new forms. The creation of beauty is Art.rnrnThe production of a work of art throws a light upon the mystery ofrnhumanity. A work of art is an abstract or epitome of the world. It isrnthe result or expression of nature, in miniature. For, although thernworks of nature are innumerable and all different, the result or thernexpression of them all is similar and single. Nature is a sea of formsrnradically alike and even unique. A leaf, a sun-beam, a landscape, thernocean, make an analogous impression on the mind. What is commonrnto them all,--that perfectness and harmony, is beauty. The standardrnof beauty is the entire circuit of natural forms,--the totality of nature;rnwhich the Italians expressed by defining beauty "il piu nell' uno."rnNothing is quite beautiful alone: nothing but is beautiful in thernwhole. A single object is only so far beautiful as it suggests thisrnuniversal grace. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, the musician, thernarchitect, seek each to concentrate this radiance of the world on onernpoint, and each in his several work to satisfy the love of beautyrnwhich stimulates him to produce. Thus is Art, a nature passedrnthrough the alembic of man. Thus in art, does nature work throughrnthe will of a man filled with the beauty of her first works.rnrnThe world thus exists to the soul to satisfy the desire of beauty. Thisrnelement I call an ultimate end. No reason can be asked or given whyrnthe soul seeks beauty. Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, isrnone expression for the universe. God is the all-fair. Truth, andrngoodness, and beauty, are but different faces of the same All. Butrnbeauty in nature is not ultimate. It is the herald of inward and eternalrnbeauty, and is not alone a solid and satisfactory good. It must standrnas a part, and not as yet the last or highest expression of the finalrncause of Nature.