close or open conformation of the eyelids, in the contraetion or dilatation of the nostrils, in the elevation or depression of the lips, in the smoothness or swelling of the muscles of the throat and neck: yet all of these are beautiful, or at least susceptible of beauty. It may have been our fortune to see all these variations of form to have taken place in the same countenance, within the space of 'a few hours. And if we recollect our sentiments, we shall find, that all of them were not only beautiful, when they were the genuine signs of emotions with which we sympathized, but what is more, that they were the only forms which, in such circumstances, could have been beautiful: That their variety corresponded to the variety of emotions which the mind experienced; and that any other conformations of feature, however beautiful in other circumstances, would then have been painful or distressing. If any of my readers have not felt this in their own experience, let them attend (while it is yet in their power) to the countenance of Mrs. Siddons, in the progress of any of her great parts of tragedy. Let them observe how the forms and proportions of every feature vary with the passions which they so faithfully express; let them mark every variety of form almost, of which the human countenance is capable, take place in the space of a few short hours; let them then ask themselves what is the common source of this infinite beauty; and although, in this examination, they will still have but a feeble sense of the excellencies of this illustrious actress, they will be sensible, that there is no original or prescribed form of feature which alone is beautiful, but that every conformation is beautiful when it is expressive of the emotions we expect and approve.

Of the Composition of the Colours and Features in the Human Countenance,

THE illustrations which I have given in the two former sections, relate to the beauty of the colours or features of the countenance, as single or individual objects sof observation. It is very obvious, however, that all these are only parts of a whole that some relation, at least, exists between those parts of the countenance, and the countenance itself: and that there is some harmony for accordance which we expect and demand in the composition of these ingredients, before we feel that the whole is beautiful. The investigation of the principles which govern us in our sentiments of composition will, I -trust, afford an additional proof of the real nature and or igin of human beauty.

If there were any original and independent beauty in any peculiar colours or forms, it would then necessarily afollow, that the union of these beautiful forms and colours would compose a countenance of beauty, and that every deviation in composition from these original principles of beauty would, in proportion to this deviation, affect us with sentiments either of indifference or dis

gust. If such were the constitution of our nature, the painter and the sculptor would possess a simple and determinate rule for the creation of beauty; the beautiful forms and colours of the human countenance would be as definite as the proportions of architecture: and the production of beauty might be as certainly attained by the artist, as arithmetical truth is by the arithmetician. That this is not the case; that the beauty of the human countenance is not governed by such definite rules; and that there are some other qualities necessary for the painter

and the sculptor, than the mere observation of physical appearances, are truths with which every one is acquaint ed, and which therefore it would be unnecessary to attempt to illustrate.

If, on the other hand, the principles which I have before attempted to illustrate are just, if the beauty of every individual colour or form in the countenance, is determined by its expression to us of some pleasing or interesting quality, then it ought to follow, (as in all other cases of composition), that the expression of the whole ought to regulate the beauty of the parts; that the actual beauty of these parts, or ingredients, ought to depend upon their relation to the general character; and that the composition therefore should only be beautiful, when this relation of expression was justly preserved, and when no colour or feature was admitted, but what tended to the production of one harmonious and unmingled emotion.

That this is really the case: that our opinion of the beauty of the human countenance is determined by this law, and that, in every particular case, our sense of the beauty of the constituent parts is decided by their relation to the prevailing character or expression of the countenance, may perhaps be obvious from the following considerations;

I.

I have formerly endeavoured to shew, that in the case of physical forms, no form was, in reality, beautiful to us, which was not the sign of some pleasing or interesting expression, or which, in other words, was not productive of some emotion. It is natural to think, that the same law should be preserved in the forms, &c. of the human countenance; and it is still more natural to think so,

when we consider, that the expressions of the countenance are direct expressions of mind. That the beauty, therefore, of every countenance, arises from its expression of some pleasing or interesting quality, in which our imagination loves to indulge; and that no countenance is ever felt as beautiful where such indirect or direct expressions are not found, is a proposition (I trust) which the readers of the previous illustrations will both expect and demand. The truth of it may, perhaps, be elucidated by the following illustrations.

1. I would appeal, in the 1st place, to common experience. If the real beauty of the human countenance arises from the union of certain forms and colours, that are originally beautiful, then every man ought to feel the sentiment of beauty in those cases alone, where those certain appearances were united. Of the truth of this proposition every man is a judge. I will presume, on the contrary, to say, that there is no man who has ever felt the sentiment of beauty, who will not acknowledge, that he has felt it in the most various and even opposite conformations of features; that he has felt, that instead of being governed by any physical law of form or colour, it has been governed by the individual circumstances of the countenance; that whenever it has been felt, it has been felt as significant of some pleasing or interesting disposition of mind; that the union of every feature and colour has been experienced as beautiful, when it was felt as expressive of amiable or interesting sentiment; and that, in fact, the only limit to the beauty of the human countenance, is the limit which separates vice from virtue : which separates the dispositions or affections we approve, from those which we disapprove or despise.

If this evidence should be insufficient, there is a yet stronger one, which arises from the usual language of

mankind. We hear, every day, the admiration of beau ty:-Ask, then, the enthusiast to explain to you, in what this beauty consits. Did he feel that it were in any cer tain conformation of features, or any precise tone of col ouring that beauty consists, he would tell you minutely the forms and proportions and colours of this admired countenance; and were this the law of your nature, you could feel it only by this physical description. But is it thus, in fact, that the communication is made? Is it not, on the contrary, by stating the expression which this countenance conveys to him? Are not the forms and magnitude of the features, and the tone and degree of colouring, made all subservient in his description, to the character of mind he wishes to convey to you? And do you not feel, at the same time, that if he succeeds in persuading you of the lovely or interesting expression of the countenance, you take for granted, at once, that whatever may be the form of the features, or the nature of the colouring, the countenance itself has that simplicity and strength of expression which justifies the admiration of the person who describes it? All this, however, which may happen every day, is utterly inexplicable up on any other principle, than the foundation of beauty in expression; and the language itself would be unintelli gible, if it arose only from some definite form of features, or definite appearance of colour.

The observation may be extended to the usual and habitual language of the world. There is no one who must not have observed, that the description of human beauty in common life, is always by terms signifi cant of its expression. When we say that a countenance is noble, or magnanimous, or heroic, or gentle, or feeling, or melancholy, we convey at once to every hearer, a belief of some degree of sublimity or beauty; but no one