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Four straight muscles, attached at cardinal points, by combining their action, move it in every direction required for vision, and these muscles are subject to the will. When the tion, cease to guide the eye, two other muscles operate to roll it upwards under the eyelid : these are the oblique muscles. Accordingly, in sleep, in fainting, in approaching death, when the four voluntary muscles resign their action, and insensibility creeps over the retina, the oblique muscles prevail, and the pupil is revolved, so as to expose only the white of the eye. It is so far consolatory to reflect, that the apparent agony indicated by this direction of the eyes, in fainting or the approach of death, is the effect of encroaching insensibility of objects impressed on the nerve of vision being no longer perceived.

This universal meaning of expression which, as the author elsewhere observes, is to passion and the emotions of the heart what language is to thought and the opera-straight muscles, from weariness or exhaustions of the mind, is connatural with man. It precedes the first inarticulate sounds of infancy; it hovers over the closing scenes of decay and death. It speaks when speech is silent. It is the common utterance of the white man and the black, of the bondsman and the free, of savage and of civilized life. Artificial manners may mask or constraint degrade it; but they cannot obliterate it, though for its highest development it requires a life of liberty, cultivation and truth. It even creates a tie of sympathy between man and the higher animals; for in all alike the upturned eye has supplication in it, the quivering muscles are relaxed by grief, the frame is knit and the teeth set by rage. It gives to instinct the eloquence of intelligence; but it rises in man alone to the highest pitch of delicacy and variety, to laughter and to tears,-and gradually declines as it descends the vast ladder of animated life, where it occurs as the invariable exponent of the vital powers. Such observations as these have been developed with the greatest felicity in these Essays. We select the example of the

eye:

"We have said that the eye indicates the holier emotions. In all stages of society, and in every clime, the posture and expression of reverence have been the same. The works of the great masters, who have represented the more sublime passions of man, may be adduced as evidences: by the upturned direction of the eyes, and a correspondence of feature and attitude, they address us in language intelligible to all mankind. The humble posture and raised eyes are natural, whether in the darkened chamber or under the open vault of

heaven.

"On first consideration, it seems merely consistent, that when pious thoughts prevail, man should turn his eyes from things earthly to the purer objects above. But there is a reason for this, which is every way worthy of attention. When subject to particular influences, the natural position of the eyeball is to be directed upwards. In sleep, languor and depression, or when affected with strong emotions, the eyes naturally and insensibly roll upwards. The action is not a voluntary one; it is irresistible. Hence, in reverence, in devotion, in agony of mind, in all sentiments of pity, in bodily pain with fear of death, the eyes assume that position.

"We thus see that when wrapt in devotional feelings, and when outward impressions are unheeded, the eyes are raised, by an action neither taught nor acquired. It is by this instinctive motion we are led to bow with humility-to look upwards in prayer, and to regard the visible heavens as the seat of God.

"Prayer is the upward glancing of the eye, When none but God is near.'

"Although the savage does not always distinguish God from the heavens above him, this direction of the eye would appear to be the source of the universal belief that the Supreme Being has His throne above. The idolatrous Negro in praying for rice and yams, or that he may be active and swift, lifts up his eyes to the canopy of the sky. So, in intercourse with God, although we are taught that our globe is. ever revolving: though religion inculcates that the Almighty is every where, yet, under the influence of this position of the eye, which is no doubt designed for a purpose, we seek Him on high. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.'

"See, then, how this property of our bodily frame has influenced our opinions and belief; our conceptions of the Deity, our religious observances, our poetry and daily habits."

Even the beard and hair have their appropriate meaning and effect:

"The stages of man's life are outwardly characterized. An opinion prevails that the form and lineaments of old age are a consequence of the deterioration of the material of our frame; and that the resemblance so often drawn between an aged man leaning on his staff and a ruin tottering to its fall, is a perfect one. It is not so; the material of the frame is ever the same; years affect it not; but infancy, youth, maturity and old age have their appropriate outward characters. Why should the forehead be bald and the beard luxuriant, if not to mark the latest epoch of man's life? or "Let us explain by what muscles the eyes what reason can be given for the hair not are so revolved. There are two sets of mus-growing on the chin during the vascular fulcles which govern the motions of the eyeball. ness of youth, but that it would be inconsist

ent with the characters of that time of life to Albergo dei Poveri, in Genoa, -a fresco of the be provided with a beard? Saviour, in the arms of the Almighty, where the beard of the Father flows beautifully. In short, the beard may become, with knowledge and taste, the most characteristic part in a figure.

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When these Essays were first written, there was not a beard to be seen in England, unless joined with squalor and neglect: and I had the conviction that this appendage con- | cealed the finest features. Being in Rome, Expression in the Lips and Moustaches.however, during the procession of the Corpus Things familiar do not always give rise to Domini, I saw that the expression was not in- their natural association. I was led to attend jured by the beard; but that it added to the more particularly to the moustaches as a feadignity and character of years. It was evi-ture of expression, in meeting a handsome dent that the fine heads by the old masters young French soldier, coming up a long ascent were copies of what were then seen in nature, in the Coté d'Or, and breathing hard, although though now but rarely. There were beards with a good humored, innocent expression. which nearly equalled that of the Moses' of His sharp-pointed black moustaches rose and Michael Angelo in length, and which flowed fell with a catamountain look that set me to like those in the paintings of Domenichino and think on the cause. Correggio.

"Every one must have observed how the nostrils play in hard breathing. We have seen that there is a muscle which is the principal agent in this action; and it may be felt swelling during inspiration, when the finger is pressed on the upper lip, just under the nostril. It is the depressor alæ nasi. The action of this muscle, under the roots of the hairs on the lip, sensibly moves them; and as all passionate excitements influence the respiratory actions, the nostrils and moustaches necessarily participate in the movement in violent passions. Thus, although the hair of the upper lip does conceal the finer modulations of the mouth, as in woman, it adds to the character of the stronger and harsher emotions.

"The beard is characteristic of nations. In the East it is honored, and to be shaved is the mark of a slave. A beard of three hands' breadth is a goodly show; but to exceed that requires a life of repose: violent exercise in the field shortens the beard. The Turks have a very poor beard. The Persians have noble beards, and are proud of the distinction. The beard of Futteh Ali Shah, the late king of Persia, reached below his girdle, was full and fine, and remarkable in a nation of beards for having no division in the middle. Such a beard, during the active period of life, shows finely on horseback; being tossed over the shoulders in the wind, and indicating speed. In the natural beard, the hair has a peculiarity depending on the place from which it grows. The hair of the upper lip is more profuse, and even in the oldest man is of a darker hue than that of the under lip; so that falling on the lower part, it can still be distinguished as it mixes with the purer white. Again, the hair descending from the sides of the face attains a greater length than that which comes from the chin; and this is more especially the character of age. It will already have been perceived from "In the French regiments they set frightful the extracts we have given, that the science fellows, with axes over their shoulders, to of expression as it was understood by Sir march in front on their heads is a black bear- Charles Bell, touched the confines of those skin cap, of the form and dimensions of a

"I continued to think of this in descending the Rhone, in company with some French officers; they were merry with wine, and I saw their moustaches, black, red and white, animated in their songs and laughter; and although with a farouche character, these appendages rather added to than concealed expression. We see the pictorial effect in the hilarity of the Dutch boor."

drum, and they select men with beards of the psychological studies, which demand for same hue, which grow in a bush, the counter-their discussion the strictest accuracy of part of that on their heads. But the face, as seen between the two black masses, is more ludicrous than terrible, and has an effect very different from what is intended. A common fellow's beard, like a common fellow's countenance, is coarse.

"Even in the Franciscan and Capuchin monks, the beard has not always the fine character displayed in the works of the old painters. Their models are gone with their times. Something excessive and ideal may be represented by the beard. Michael Angelo has, perhaps, followed Scripture, in the beard of his 'Moses,' which floats below the girdle;

and in the fresco of Jeremiah, in the Sistine Chapel. The finest painting of the beard that I have seen is by Correggio, in the Scala of the

philosophical language and the careful lucidity of logical arrangement. To these abstruse inquiries, however, the peculiar did not lead him. It cannot but be regretqualifications and purusits of the author ted, for the sake of one of the most curious problems of metaphysical science, that Sir Charles Bell's attention does not appear to have been directed to Descartes's Treatise on the Passions, or to the few philosophical writers who have treated the subject, although with scientific attainments very far below his own. We are inclined to suspect that a more close examination of the question would have induced him to modify

his opinion, that "the faculties owe their development as much to the operation of the instruments of expression as to the impressions of the outward senses." Such a doctrine would lead far into the blank labyrinth of secondary causes; it tends to convert into a fallacious original what is in truth a faithful copy or image of the mind. We cannot omit, however, one paragraph which conveys a philosophical reflection in very striking language:

"Pain is affirmed to be unqualified evil; yet pain is necessary to our existence; at birth it rouses the dormant faculties, and gives us consciousness. To imagine the absence of pain is not only to imagine a new state of being, but a change in the earth, and all upon it. As inhabitant of earth, and as a consequence of the great law of gravitation, the human body must have weight. It must have bones, as columns of support, and levers or the action of its muscles; and this mechanical structure implies a complication and delicacy of texture beyond our conception. For that fine texture a sensibility to pain is destined to be the protection; it is the safeguard of the body; it makes us alive to those injuries which would otherwise destroy us, and warns us to avoid them.

servation, which might have escaped a less watchful eye, went to illustrate speculations which originated in very different scenes. A man who should devote his life to pursue and to interpret the language of expression, has at once before him an endless variety in a perpetual identity, the variety of human nature, the identity of man. To the great artists of Italy, similar scenes and observations furnished the models they so admirably imitated to the critic in his humbler sphere, they furnish the true key to the appreciation of those works. The following passage will be read with great interest :

"In the same day I made careful examinations of the anatomical studies of Michael Angelo, in the collection of the Grand Duke of Florence, and I compared them with his noble works in the tombs of the Medici. I observed that he had avoided the error of artists of less genius, who, in showing their learning, deviate from living nature. I recognised the utmost accuracy of anatomy in the great artist's studies; in his pen-and-ink sketches of the knee, for example, every point of bone, muscle, tendon and ligament was marked, and perhaps a little exaggerated. But on surveying the limbs of those fine statues, this peculiarity was not visible; there were none of the details of the anatomy, but only the effects of muscular action, as seen in life, not the muscles. As, perhaps, this is the most important lesson which can be given to the artist, I shall venture to transcribe the notes I made at the time.

"When, therefore, the philosopher asks why were not our actions performed at the suggestions of pleasure, he imagines man, not constituted as he is, but as if he belonged to a world in which there was neither weight nor pressure, nor any thing injurious,-where there were no dangers to apprehend, no difficulties to overcome, and no call for exertion, resolution or courage. It would, indeed, be a "The statue of Lorenzo di Medici, Duca curious speculation to follow out the conse-d'Urbino, by Michael Angelo, is in the Capelquences on the highest qualities of the mind, if we could suppose man thus free from all bodily suffering."

From these topics it is agreeable to turn to the vivid and graceful impressions, snatched alike from nature and from art, in the course of Sir Charles Bell's Italian journey. There is not a higher gratification in life, and possibly it partakes of the enlarged pleasures of a better existence, than to pass, prepared for the change, into a region where the visions of the fancy and the abstract truths of the intellect are realized in the most perfect forms of beauty.

As our author crossed France, the southern enthusiasm kindled his artist's nature. He saw men in the novelty of various manners, and the picturesque forms of warmer climates. Sometimes in the common accidents of life, and more frequently in the peculiarities of foreign gesticulation or the ceremonies of the Catholic church, an ob

la di Principi, of the church of St. Lorenzo. Under the statue are two figures, one of Twilight, the other of Daybreak. I observed in the male figure, which is of very grand proportions, the clavicle or collar-bone, the head eles developed beyond nature, yet singularly of the humerus, the deltoid and pectoral mustrue in the anatomy. Such a shoulder was never seen in man, yet so finely is it imagined. that no one part is unduly exaggerated; but all is magnified with so perfect a knowledge, that it is just as a whole, the bone and the muscle corresponding in their proportions. In the same chapel are the statues of Giuliano di X., with the recumbent figures of Day and Medici, Duke of Nemours, and brother of Leo Night. It is in these finely conceived figures that we have the proof of Michael Angelo's genius. They may not have the perfect purity and truth that we see in the antique; but there is a magnificence, which belongs to him alone. Here we see the effect of muscular knowledge. The back is marvellously fine. action, without affected display of anatomical The position of the scapula, for example, makes its lower angle throw up the edge of

the latissimus dorsi, for the scapula is forced back upon the spine, in consequence of the position of the arm. Michael Angelo must have carefully studied the anatomy in refer ence to the changes produced in the living body by the action of its members: the shifting of the scapula, with the consequent rising of the mass of muscles, some in action, some merely pushed into masses, are very finely shown."

"Having just come from observing his sketches of the anatomy of the knee-joint, I was curious in my observation of the manner in which he made his knowledge available in the joints of these fine statues; and they gave rise to the following remarks.

culties of the art and throw the human body into this position, or who could throw the shoulder into this violent distortion, and yet preserve the relations of the parts, of bone and muscle, with such scientific exactness? We have in this great master a proof of the manner in which genius submits to labor, in order to attain perfection. He must have undergone the severe toil of the anatomist to acquire such a power of design, which it was hardly to be supposed could be sufficiently appreciated then or now.

"Without denying the beauty or correctness of the true Grecian productions of the chisel, they ought not to be contrasted with the works of Michael Angelo to his disadvan"If an artist, with a knowledge of the struc- tage. He had a noble conception of the auture, should look upon the knee in a bent posi-gust form of man: to my thinking, superior to tion, he will recognize the different bones and ligaments. But if he look upon it in an extended position of the limb, or during exertion, he will not distinguish the same parts. The contour, the swelling of the integument, and the fulness around the joint are not produced by the forms of the bones, but by the rising up of the parts displaced by the new position of the bones. The fatty cushions which are within and external to the knee-joint, and which serve the purpose of friction-wheels in the play of the bones upon each other, no longer occupy the same relative places; they are protruded from the depth of the cavity to the surface. How well Michael Angelo knew this, these statues of Day and Night evince.

any thing exhibited in ancient sculpture. Visconti imputes inferiority to Buonarotti; and, to confirm his views, compares the antique statues restored by him with the limbs and heads which he added. But I can conceive nothing less suited to the genius of the artist than this task of modelling and adjusting a limb in a different position from that which is entire, and yet so as to preserve the proportions and character of the whole. The manner of his working, and the urgency of his genius for an unrestrained field of exertion, unfitted him for that kind of labor, while it is a matter of necessity that a copy shall be inferior to an original.

per solo spoggio di giacitura e de' forme.'

"What the figures of Night and Morning had to do before the degenerate son of the "In these statues, great feeling of art and Medici is another matter. They seem to have genius of the highest order have been exhibit- been placed there as mere ornaments, and in ed; anatomical science, ideal beauty, or rather the luxury of talent, to give the form and posgrandeur, combined. It is often said that Mi-ture of the human figure, per ornamento e chael Angelo studied the Belvidere Torso, and that he kept it continually in his eye. That fine specimen of ancient art may have been the authority for his grand development of the human muscles; but it did not convey to him the effect which he produced by the throwing out of those magnificent and giant limbs. Here we see the vigor of this sculptor's stroke and the firmness of his touch, as well as his sublime conception of the human figure. We can imagine that he wrought by no measure or mechanical contrivance; that he hewed out the marble as another would cast together his mass of clay in a first sketch. Many of his finest works are left unfinished; it appears that he found the block of inarble in some instances

too small, and left the design incomplete. For my own part I feel that the finish and smoothness of the marble is hardly consistent with the vigor of Michael Angelo's conceptions; and I should regret to think that such a genius should have wasted an hour in giving softness or polish to the surface.

"Who is there, modern or ancient, that would thus voluntarily encounter all the diffi

"I might make similar remarks on the statue by John of Bologna,—Januarius sitting, shivering under a shower, in a fountain in the Villa Petraia, near Florence."

"When in Rome I was impatient until I stood before the statue of Moses, so much had been said of its extraordinary merit, and also so much of its defects. It is a noble figure, with all the energy of Buonarotti displayed in it. It is not the anatomy alone which constitutes its perfection; but there is the same mind displayed in the attitude, the habiliment, the beard, and all the accompaniments, as in the vigor of the naked shoulders and arms. It is the realization of his high conception of the human figure.""

Sir Charles Bell inclines to give to the great sculptors of Italy a preference over the artists even of Greece, probably from the excellence of the former in that kind of powerful expression and character which he himself was best able to appreciate. Yet his criticisms on the Laocoon' and the Dying Gladiator' are of great value. We can only make room for the latter:

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position of one wounded in the chest, and tion of antiquity; for how natural to supseeking relief in that anxious and oppressed pose, when this girl again falls into a state breathing which attends a mortal wound with of torpor, and sits like a marble statue, pale, loss of blood. He seeks support to his arms, exhausted, taciturn, that the spirit has left not to rest them or to sustain the body, but to her. The transition is easy; the priests fix them, that their action may be transferred take her under their care, watch her ravings to the chest, and thus assist the laboring res- and give them meaning, until she sinks piration. The nature of his sufferings leads to again into a death-like stupor or indifference. this attitude. In a man expiring from loss of Successive attacks of this kind impress blood, as the vital stream flows, the heart and the countenance indelibly. The painter has lungs have the same painful feeling of want, to represent features powerful, but consistent which is produced by obstruction to the breath- with the maturity and perfection of feminine ing. As the blood is draining from him he beauty. He will show his genius by portraypants and looks wild, and the chest heaves ing not only a fine female form with the convulsively. And so the ancient artist has grandeur of the antique, but a face of peculiar placed this statue in the posture of one who character; embodying a state of disease often suffers the extremity of difficult respiration. witnessed by the physician, with associations The fixed condition of the shoulders, as he derived from history. If on the dead and unisustains his sinking body, shows that the pow-form paleness of the face he bestows that deep erful muscles, common to the ribs and arms, tone of interest which belongs to features inhave their action concentrated to the strug-active, but not incapable of feeling; if he can gling chest. In the same way does a man af-show something of the imprint of long suffering flicted with asthma rest his hands or his el-isolated from human sympathy, throw around bows upon a table, stooping forwards, that the shoulders may become fixed points; the muscles of the arm and shoulder then act as muscles of respiration, and aid in the motion of the chest, during the heaving and anxiety which belong to the disease."

We conclude with a passage which has much of the grandeur of those exalted works by which it appears to have been suggested :

her the appropriate mantle, and let the fine hair fall on her shoulders, the picture will require no golden letters to announce her character, as in the old paintings of the Sybil or the Pythoness."

To such fragments as these nothing need be added. It is well that the discoveries and the reflections of such a mind should be placed within the reach of the public at large in an accessible and attractive form. The truest acknowledgment of the services rendered by such men is the respect which every one may pay to their literary remains; and we are persuaded that the success of this volume will not be inferior to that of the admirable treatise on the Hand, and not unworthy of its accomplished author's lasting fame.

SONNET.-TO MEMORY.

"There is a link of connection between all liberal professions. The painter may borrow from the physician. He will require something more than his fancy can supply, if he has to represent a priestess or a sybil. It must be the creation of a mind, learned as well as inventive. He may readily conceive a female form full of energy, her imagination at the moment exalted and pregnant, so that things long past are painted in colors as if they stood before her, and her expression becomes bold and poetical. But he will have a more true and precise idea of what is to be depicted, if he reads the history of that melancholia which undoubtedly, in early times, has given the idea of one possessed with a spirit. A young woman is seen constitutionally pale and languid; and from this inanimate state no show of affection or entreaty will draw her into COME, pensive spirit, moonlight of the mind, conversation with her family. But how chang- Hallowing the things of earth with touch refined, ed is her condition, when instead of the lethargy Unfold thine ample page, and let me dwell and fixed countenance, the circulation is sud-Upon the days that were: I love thy spell, denly restored, the blood mounts to her cheeks, And own thee mistress of the magic art and her eyes sparkle, while both in mind and That breathes a fresh existence o'er the heart. body she manifests an unwonted energy, and Come, then, enchantress! with thy scenic power, Illume the dullness of the passing hour; her whole frame is animated. During the con- Act o'er again what time has swept away, tinuance of the paroxysm, she delivers herself And give me back each smiling former day; with a force of thought and language, and in a Call up the rosy hours that danced along, tone so greatly altered, that even her parents Gay as my spirit, joyous as my song, say, She is not our child, she is not our When youth and health and golden hopes were daughter, a spirit has entered into her.' This mine, is in accordance with the prevailing supersti

BY MRS. CRAWFORD.
From the Metropolitan.

Heaping with od'rous gifts home's hallow' shrine.

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