THE

PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL.

No. LXXX.

JULY, 1844.

NEW SERIES.-No. XXVII.

I. MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS.

I. On the Application of Phrenology to the Fine Arts. By GEORGE COMBE. (Continued from page 140.)

TO THE EDITOR OF THE PHRENOLOGICAL JOURNAL.

ROME, 20th April 1844.

SIR,-I concluded my last communication by calling in question the universal application of Sir Joshua Reynolds' observation, that "we are sure from experience that the beauty of form alone, without the assistance of any other quality, makes of itself a great work ;" and stated that this dictum holds good absolutely, only in the case of objects the chief excellence of which consists in beauty of form-such as vases and columns. The human body is the Temple of the Mind, and its highest attribute is the expression of that which it contains. I have endeavoured to shew that the brain, when developed in those forms and proportions which render it most perfect as the organ of the mind, is combined by Nature (when she acts normally) with the most perfect forms and proportions of the rest of the body, viewed in relation to health, activity, and enjoyment. These combinations are also the most noble, dignified, and beautiful, when we regard the human figure as a mere object of art. It is quite true that the Greek statues and Torso afford, by the beauty of their forms alone, great pleasure to persons in whom the organs of Form, Size, and Ideality are largely developed. But if to the same beauty of form, be added an equally perfect expression of high mental qualities, the pleasure VOL. XVII. N. S. NO, XXVII.-JULY 1844.

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is increased to an extent as great as that to which the interest excited by powerful emotions and profound thought exceeds that elicited by mere matter, even when clothed in its most perfect forms and proportions. This truth is recognised by Kugler, who, in speaking of the school of painters named Naturalisti, from their copying nature too servilely, says," The forms which they bring before us are not those of nature in a refined state, like those of the great masters in the beginning of the sixteenth century-a nature in which beauty is the evidence of moral harmony, and the feelings of love or hatred seem the indications of a godlike energy."* There is profound truth in these remarks; but I find that, while an indefinable quality, called "character," is highly appreciated by critics and modern artists, some of them sneer at works expressing individual or combined emotions, or distinct intellectual action. The uninitiated public and such persons are at open war on the merits of works of this kind. For example: there is in Imhoff's studio here, a group of Hagar and her son in the desert, which tells the story of her sufferings in the most pathetic manner, Her son lies extended at her feet, supporting himself on one arm, and with the other presents a vessel to his mother, imploring her for water. The earthen bottle, in which she had carried this necessary of existence, hangs in her hand with the neck downwards, indicating that the last drop is drained. The boy is dying from thirst and exhaustion, and the mother stands beside him, the very personification of maternal affection, almost sinking under despair. Unsophisticated yet educated women have wept in looking on this group; but some artists condemn it as a work belonging to a low style, aiming at creating interest by an appeal to common, not to say vulgar feelings, instead of resting its claims exclusively on beauty of form and proportion. I do not pretend to decide on the abstract artistical merits of this group, and introduce it merely as an illustration (confessing, however, that it deeply interested me); and remark, that while I consider mere mental expression, without purity and beauty of form, to be far short of the highest merit in a picture or statue, yet I cannot place form alone, without expression, above it. The combination of the two qualities is necessary to constitute a perfect work. This truth will be admitted in words by many artists who aim at practising it; but generally speaking, modern Italian painters and sculptors bestow more attention on beauty of form and proportion, than on expression. I ascribe this state of things to the want of a philosophy of expression-in other words, of a true philosophy of mind; and this again to the want of a knowledge of the

* Hand-book of Painting, p, 413,

functions of the brain, and of its influence on the forms and expression of the body. It strikes me, also, that expression is more valued and cultivated by foreign than by Italian artists of the present day.

As the relative importance of expression and form is disputed, I beg leave to add a few illustrations of the rank which I assign to each. In sculpture, form and proportion are equivalent to melody and time in music. Melody and time are in themselves pleasing, because they are addressed to and agreeably excite the organs of Tune and Time: but beautiful forms and proportions, as well as simple melody and time, are mere elementary sources of pleasure. Harmony in music corresponds to grouping in forms; we bring together, in the one instance, sounds, and, in the other, forms, that are accordant. Even, however, when we proceed to produce harmony and grouping, we advance only one step above the elements of music, painting, and sculpture; for these acts imply merely putting simple elements agreeably together, which is done by the aid of Comparison, in addition to Time and Tune, or to Form and Size. But forms and proportions, and also notes, stand in such a relation to the other mental faculties that they are capable of expressing their activity. Deep low tones express the activity of the animal propensities; they are their natural language; and it is said that lions and tigers become excited and enraged when they hear them. Soft and rich tones are the natural language or expression of the moral sentiments; while clear cold silvery notes express intellectual conceptions, Now, I believe that I am justified in saying, that when a musical composer, to the purest and richest melody, and the most perfect harmony, adds forcible and clear expression of the various mental states which agitate and delight the soul, he realizes the grandest aims of his art; and that, of all these attributes, the last is the highest and most powerful in its effects. Melody, harmony, and time, when expression is omitted, may delight the connoisseurs and artistes in music, in whom the organs of Time, Tune, and Comparison are highly cultivated, who appreciate difficulties in composition and execution, and admire skill in surmounting them: but a general audience brings to a concert only the propensities, sentiments, and intellectual faculties in their common state of activity; and as the propensities and sentiments are by far the most active and influential of all the faculties, expression of emotion alone will deeply interest and delight them. In like manner, while beauty and proportion of form will gratify the connoisseur and artist, and all in whom the organs of Form, Size, and Ideality are large and well cultivated, they, if standing alone in statuary

or painting, will fail to rouse emotion or excite vivid pleasure in the spectators generally. The reason of this is obvious. Form and proportion, besides their elementary powers of pleasing, are also, like melody and time, instruments of expression. For instance, Retzch's illustrations of Shakspeare, and Flaxman's designs, in addition to great purity and grace of form, embody sentiment, emotion, and intellectual power; yet they are mere outlines, mere assemblages of forms and proportions. If, then, forms and proportions are instruments of mental expression, I ask, on what principle can it be maintained that they, in their elementary condition, can ever accomplish as much in art, as when, with all their native excellencies undiminished, they are also made to express the loftiest conceptions and emotions of the mind?

Assuming, then, the importance of expression in statuary (and the same remarks apply to painting), I proceed to inquire into the philosophy of expression. If the human body is really the Temple of the Mind, it is reasonable to expect that every part of it will express the character, or some quality of the character, of its inmate. Accordingly, in my last communication I pointed out some important relations between particular corporeal forms and particular mental endowments; and in continuing the subject, I may be obliged to repeat some of my former remarks, for the sake of connection.

То express generally strong mental power,-animal, moral, and intellectual,-the head must be large in all its regions. Raphael, by means of that wonderful instinct, or accuracy of observation, which led him so generally to truth, seems to have felt this connection; for I have found, that, as a general rule, he bestows amply developed brains on those characters to whom he attaches interest and importance in his pictures. Occasionally, but rarely, he fails to observe this rule. Andrea del Sarto, on the other hand, occasionally paints saints and patriarchs with brains below an average in size; and the diminished expression of mental power and dignity is at once felt, even by observers who do not know whence the difference between the effects of Raphael's pictures and them proceeds. This, however, is only one cause of their inferiority; but it is a marked

one.

To express general feebleness of mind, the three regions of the head should be small: the celebrated Venus de Medici is defective in this particular. The brain is too small even for average mental power: : the limbs manifest more mind than the head. When the general size is much diminished, it expresses idiocy; and when too much increased, it indicates cretinism or other forms of disease.

To express great animal propensity, the base and lower hinder parts of the head should be enlarged; to express great moral excellence, the coronal region; and to express great intellect, the anterior lobe. These rules have generally been observed by Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael. In Leonardo's celebrated picture of "The Last Supper," the head of Christ is the highest in its forms and proportions; that of St John the next; that of St Peter is inferior; and that of Judas the lowest-judging of them according to the rules now expounded. "The Last Supper" has been sadly injured by time and injudicious repainting; but with all its imperfections, the observation in Murray's Hand-book is correct, that "the best copies, the best engravings which we have of this painting, convey only an imperfect notion of its beauty;" and, I may add, for a very good reason they are not true. The artists who copied it seem to have had no correct conception of the meaning of the forms and expressions which Leonardo has given to his heads and figures; and they have transferred them to their own canvass much in the same way as a printer's compositor transfers to his own sheets, the text of a book the language of which he does not understand. The difference between an m and an n, or between an e and a c, appears to the eye of the compositor so small as to be scarcely perceptible; the words, in point of form, look so much alike, that he perhaps never dreams of the change which the substitution of the one letter for the other makes in the sense. So is it with the copying artist who does not understand the principles of expression. He omits a line here and adds a line there, deepens a shadow or increases a light, all so slightly, that he is unconscious of any deviation from the original; yet the instructed critic unhesitatingly pronounces that he has changed the character. Leonardo's head of Christ is not a highly imaginative representation of pure intellect and moral sentiment; it does not express the divinity so much as the humanity of the Saviour. It is a bona fide human head, in form, expression, and colouring. I have seen its type in nature, and recognised the expression which it bears. The temperament is nervous-sanguine; the head is large; it is of full breadth at the base and sides; the moral region is very large; and the anterior lobe is long, broad, and high. The head reclines slightly to the left side, and the eyes look down. Cautiousness, Secretiveness, Benevolence, and Veneration, are large, and the countenance expresses the action of them all. It is sad, meek, resigned, benevolent; shut up within itself, with closed lips; yet full of deep interest. The ample development of the basilar and lateral portions of the brain, gives it a human character; yet all its earthly elements