Essays on Physiognomy

ESSAYS on PHYSIOGNOMY; for the Promotion of the KNOWLEDGE and the LOVE OF MANKIND;

Written in the German Language By J. C. LAVATER, abridged from Mr Holcrofts Translation.

BOSTON, Printed for William Spotswood & David West.

Advertiſement. [Annexed to the MOST APPROVED LONDON EDITION of this work, from which this FIRST AMERICAN EDITION has been reprinted.]

THE Eſſays on Phyſiognomy of M. Lavater, are now ſo univerſally known and celebrated, that it is unneceſſary to attempt their eulogium; even thoſe who conſider the ſcience they are written to ſupport as viſionary, cannot but admire the lively force of imagination, and animated argument, with which the author has explained and defended his favourite hypotheſis. The reception the work has met with from the public, has encouraged certain literary pirates to ſeize almoſt the whole of it, and appropriate it to themſelves, by the aid of a pair of ſciſſars; but in their eagerneſs to graſp their reward, they have in ſome places ſo mangled and disfigured it by abſurd errors, in copying or of the preſs, that the author or tranſlator (of whoſe labour they have availed themſelves, verbatim, with the utmoſt effrontery and without any acknowledgment) would ſcarcely be able to diſcover the meaning, without having recourſe to the work they have ſo diſgraced, by their mutilated and inaccurate copy. In ſome places whole ſentences abſolutely neceſſary to the ſenſe have been omitted, and in others, words altered to a meaning diametrically oppoſite. A liſt of all the errors, which totally deſtroy or change the ſenſe of the paſſage, without enumerating common typographical miſtakes, would fill more than a page. The publiſhers and proprietors, therefore, of the work thus impudently ſtolen, and wretchedly mutilated, now preſent to the public an abridgment carefully reviſed, correctly printed, and containing, in addition to all that is to be found in the other, nearly a whole ſheet of letter preſs, and two additional copper-plates, containing twelve heads.

CONTENTS.

• CHAP. I.—Phyſiognomy, a Science—The Truth of Phyſiognomy—The Advantages of Phyſiognomy—Its Diſadvantages—The Eaſe and Difficulty of ſtudying Phyſiognomy—A Word concerning the Author 1
• CHAP. II.—On the Nature of Man, which is the Foundation of the Science of Phyſiognomy—Difference between Phyſiognomy and Pathognomy 20
• CHAP. III.—Signs of Bodily Strength and Weakneſs—Of Health and Sickneſs 25
• CHAP. IV.—Of the Congeniality of the Human Form 31
• CHAP. V.—Deſcription of Plates I. and II. 37
• CHAP. VI.—The univerſal Excellence of the Form of Man 40
• CHAP. VII.—Of the Forehead 44
• CHAP. VIII.—Of the Eyes and Eyebrows 48
• CHAP. IX.—Of the Noſe 54
• CHAP. X.—Of the Mouth and Lips 57
• CHAP. XI.—Of the Teeth and Chin 60
• CHAP. XII.—Of Sculls 62
• CHAP. XIII.—Suggeſtions to the Phyſiognomiſt concerning the Scull 66
• CHAP. XIV.—Of the Difference of Sculls, as they relate to Sex, and particularly to Nations—Of the Sculls of Children 71
• CHAP. XV.—Deſcription of Plate III. 76
• CHAP. XVI.—The Phyſiognomiſt 78
• CHAP. XVII.—Lavater's own Remarks on National Phyſiognomy 86
• CHAP. XVIII.—Extracts from Buffon on National Phyſiognomy 89
• CHAP. XIX.—Some of the moſt remarkable Paſſages from an excellent Eſſay on National Phyſiognomy, by Profeſſor Kant of Konigſberg 95
• CHAP. XX.—Extracts from other Writers on National Phyſiognomy—From Winkelmann's Hiſtory of Art—From the Recherches Philoſophiques ſur les Americains, by M. de Pauw—Obſervations by Lintz—From a Letter written by M. Fueſsly—From a Letter written by Profeſſor Camper 98
• CHAP. XXI.—Extracts from the Manuſcripts of a Man of Literature at Darmſtadt, on National Phyſiognomy 105
• CHAP. XXII—Deſcription of Plate IV. 111
• CHAP. XXIII.—Reſemblance between Parents and Children 113
• CHAP. XXIV.—Remarks on the Opinions of Buffon, Haller, and Bonnet, concerning the Reſemblance between Parents and Children 118
• CHAP. XXV.—Obſervations on the New-born, the Dying, and the Dead 123
• CHAP. XXVI.—Of the influence of Countenance on Countenance 125
• CHAP. XXVII.—On the influence of the Imagination on the Countenance 128
• CHAP. XXVIII.—The Effects of the Imagination on the Human Form 130
• CHAP. XXIX.—Eſſay, by a late learned Man of Oldenberg, (M. Sturtz), on Phyſiognomy, interſperſed with ſhort Remarks, by the Author 134
• CHAP. XXX.—Quotations from Huart, with Remarks 145
• CHAP. XXXI.—Remarks on an Eſſay on Phyſiognomy, by Profeſſor Litchtenberg 149
• CHAP. XXXII.—Deſcription of Plate V. 170
• CHAP. XXXIII.—General Remarks on Women 171
• CHAP. XXXIV.—General Remarks on Male and Female—A Word on the phyſiognomonical Relation of the Sexes 175
• CHAP. XXXV.—On the Phyſiognomy of Youth 178
• CHAP. XXXVI.—Phyſiognomonical Extracts from an Eſſay inſerted in the Deutſchen Muſeum, a German Journal or Review 181
• CHAP. XXXVII.—Extracts from Maximus Tyrius 189
• CHAP. XXXVIII.—Extracts from a Manuſcript by Th—191
• CHAP. XXXIX.—Extracts from Nicolai and Winkelmann 199
• CHAP. XL.—Extracts from Ariſtotle and other Authors concerning Beaſts 203
• CHAP. XLI.—Of Birds, Fiſhes, Serpents, and Inſects 214
• CHAP. XLII.—On Shades 218
• CHAP. XLIII.—Deſcription of Plate VI. 221
• CHAP. XLIV.—A Word to Travellers 222
• CHAP. XLV.—A Word to Princes and Judges 227
• CHAP. XLVI.—A Word to the Clergy 230
• CHAP. XLVII.—Phyſiognomonical Elucidations of Countenances 231
• CHAP. XLVIII.—Phyſiognomonical Anecdotes 233
• CHAP. XLIX.—Miſcellaneous Extracts from Kaempf's Eſſays on the Temperaments, with Remarks 234
• CHAP. L.—Upon Portrait Painting 237
• CHAP. LI.—Deſcription of Plate VII. 244
• CHAP. LII.—Miſcellaneous Quotations 246
• CHAP. LIII.—Miſcellaneous Thoughts 248
• CHAP. LIV.—Of the Utility between the Knowledge of the Heart and Philanthropy—Miſcellaneous phyſiognomonical Thoughts from Holy Writ 252
• CHAP. LV.—Of the apparently falſe Deciſions of Phyſiognomy.—Of the general Objections made to Phyſiognomy. Particular Objections anſwered 257

PHYSIOGNOMY.

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION.

Phyſiognomy a Science.—The Truth of Phyſiognomy.—The Advantages of Phyſiognomy.—Its Diſadvantages.—The Eaſe and Difficulty of ſtudying Phyſiognomy.—A Word concerning the Author.

IT has been aſſerted by thouſands, that though there may be ſome truth in phyſiognomy, ſtill it never can be a ſcience. Theſe aſſertions will be repeated, how clearly ſoever their objections may be anſwered, and however little they may have to reply. Phyſiognomy is as capable of becoming a ſcience as any one of the ſciences, mathematics excepted. It is a branch of the phyſical art, and includes theology and the belles lettres. Like theſe, it may, to a certain extent, be reduced to rule, and acquire an appropriate character, by which it may be taught.

Whenever truth or knowledge is explaine [••]y fixed principles, it becomes ſcientific, ſo far as it can be imparted by words, lines, rules, and definitions. The queſtion will ſtand ſimply thus: Whether it be poſſible to explain the undeniable ſtriking differences which exiſt between human faces and forms, not by obſcure and confuſed conceptions, but by certain characters, ſigns and expreſſions? Whether theſe ſigns can communicate the ſtrength and weakneſs, health and ſickneſs of the body; the folly and wiſdom, the magnanimity and meanneſs, the virtue and vice of the mind? This is the only thing to be decided; and he who, inſtead of inveſtigating the queſtion, ſhould continue to declaim againſt it, muſt either be deficient in the love of truth, or in logical reaſoning.

The experimental philoſopher can only proceed with his diſcoveries to a certain extent; only can communicate them by words; can only ſay, Such and ſuch are my experiments, ſuch my remarks, ſuch is the number of them, and ſuch are the inferences I draw: purſue the track that I have explored. Yet, will he not be unable, ſometimes, to ſay thus much? Will not his active mind make a thouſand remarks, which he will want the power to communicate? Will not his eye penetrate receſſes, which he ſhall be unable to diſcover to that feebler viſion that cannot diſcover for itſelf? Is any ſcience brought to perfection at the moment of its birth? Does not genius continually, with eagle-eye and flight, anticipate centuries? How long did the world wait for Wolf? Who, among the moderns, is more ſcientific than Bonnet? Who more accurately diſtinguiſhes falſehood from truth? Yet to whom would he be able to communicate his ſudden perception of the truth; the reſult or reſources of thoſe numerous, ſmall, indeſcribable, rapid, profound remarks? To whom could he impart theſe by ſigns, tones, images and rules? Is it not the ſame with phyſic, theology, and all the arts and ſciences? Is it not the ſame with painting, at once the mother and daughter of phyſiognomy▪

How infinitely does he, who is painter or poet born, ſoar beyond all written rule! But muſt he, who poſſeſſes feelings and power which are not to be reduced to rule, be pronounced unſcientific? So, phyſiognomonical truth may, to a certain degree, be defined, communicated by ſigns and words, as a ſcience. This is the look of contempt, this of innocence. Where ſuch ſigns are, ſuch and ſuch properties reſide.

There can be no doubt of the truth of phyſiognomy. All countenances, all forms, all created beings, are not only different from each other in their claſſes, races, and kinds, but are alſo individually diſtinct. Each being differs from every other being of its ſpecies. However generally known, it is a truth the moſt important to our purpoſe, and neceſſary to repeat, that "there is no roſe perfectly ſimilar to another roſe, no egg to an egg, no eel to an eel, no lion to a lion, no eagle to an eagle, no man to a man."

Confining this propoſition to man only, it is the firſt, the moſt profound, moſt ſecure and unſhaken foundation-ſtone of phyſiognomy, that however intimate the analogy and ſimilarity of the innumerable forms of men, no two men can be found, who, brought together, and accurately compared, will not appear to be very remarkably different. Nor is it leſs incontrovertible, that it is equally impoſſible to find two minds, as two countenances, which perfectly reſemble each other.

Conſiderations like theſe will be ſufficient to make it received as a truth, not requiring farther demonſtration, that there muſt be a certain native analogy between the external varieties of the countenance and form, and the internal varieties of the mind. Anger renders the muſcles protuberant; and ſhall not therefore an angry mind and protuberant muſcles be conſidered as cauſe and effect?

After repeated obſervation, that an active and vivid eye, and an active and acute wit, are frequently found in the ſame perſon, ſhall it be ſuppoſed that there is no relation between the active eye and the active mind? Is this the effect of accident? Ought it not rather to be conſidered as ſympathy, an interchangeable and inſtantaneous effect, when we perceive that, at the very moment the underſtanding is moſt acute and penetrating, and the wit the moſt lively, the motion and fire of the eye undergo, at that moment, the moſt viſible alteration?

But all this is denied by thoſe who oppoſe the truth of the ſcience of phyſiognomy. Truth, according to them, is ever at variance with herſelf: Eternal order is degraded to a juggler, whoſe purpoſe it is to deceive.

Calm reaſon revolts when it is aſſerted, that the ſtrong man may appear perfectly like the weak, the man in full health like another in the laſt ſtage of a conſumption, or that the raſh and iraſcible reſemble the cold and phlegmatic. It revolts to hear it affirmed, that joy and grief, pleaſure and pain, love and hatred, all exhibit themſelves under the ſame traits, that is to ſay, under no traits whatever, on the exterior of man. Yet ſuch are the aſſertions of thoſe who maintain that phyſiognomy is a chimerical ſcience. They overturn all that order and combination by which Eternal wiſdom ſo highly aſtoniſhes and delights the underſtanding. It cannot be too emphatically repeated, that blind chance and a[•]bitrary diſorder conſtitute the philoſophy of fools, and that they are the bane of natural knowledge, philoſophy, and religion. Entirely to baniſh ſuch a ſyſtem, is the duty of the true inquirer, the ſage, and the divine.

It is indiſputable that all men, abſolutely all men, eſtimate all things whatever by their phyſiognomy, their exterior temporary ſuperficies. By viewing theſe on every occaſion, they draw their concluſions concerning their internal properties. What merchant, if he be unacquainted with the perſon of whom he purchaſes, does not eſtimate his wares by the phyſiognomy or appearance of thoſe wares? If he purchaſed of a diſtant correſpondent, what other means does he uſe in judging whether they are or are not equal to his expectation? Is not his judgment determined by the colour, the fineneſs, the ſuperficies, the exterior, the phyſiognomy? Does he not judge money by its phyſiognomy? Why does he take one guinea, and reject another? Why weigh a third in his hand? Does he not determine according to its colour, or impreſſion, its outſide, its phyſiognomy? If a ſtranger enter his ſhop, as a buyer or ſeller, will he not obſerve him? Will he not draw concluſions from his countenance? Will he not, almoſt before he is out of hearing, pronounce ſome opinion of him? and ſay, This man has an honeſt look—this man has a pleaſing or forbidding countenance. What is it to the purpoſe whether his judgment be right or wrong? He judges, and, though not wholly, he depends, in part, upon the exterior form, and thence draws inferences concerning the mind.

The farmer, walking through his grounds, regulates his future expectations by the colour, the ſize, the growth, the exterior; that is to ſay, by the phyſiognomy of the bloom, the ſtalk or the ear of his corn, the ſtem and ſhoots of his vine tree.—This ear of corn is blighted—that wood is full of ſap—this will grow, that not, affirms he at the firſt or ſecond glance.—Though theſe vine-ſhoots look well, they will bear but few grapes. And wherefore? He remarks in their appearance, as the phyſiognomiſt in the countenances of ſhallow men, the want of native energy. Does he not judge by the exterior?

Does not the phyſician pay more attention to the phyſiognomy of the ſick, than to all the accounts that are brought him concerning his patient? Zimmermann, among the living, may be brought as a proof of the great perfection at which this kind of judgment is arrived; and, among the dead, Kemp, whoſe ſon has written a treatiſe on temperament.

I will ſay nothing of the painter, as his art too evidently reproves the childiſh and arrogant prejudices of thoſe who pretend to diſbelieve phyſiognomy. The traveller, the philanthropiſt, the miſanthropiſt, the lover, (and who not?) all act according to their feelings and deciſions, true or falſe, confuſed or clear, concerning phyſiognomy. Theſe feelings, theſe deciſions, excite compaſſion, diſguſt, joy, love, hatred ſuſpicion, confidence, reſerve, or benevolence.

By what rule do we judge of the ſky, but by its phyſiognomy? No food, not a glaſs of wine or beer, nor a cup of coffee or tea comes to table, which is not judged by its phyſiognomy, its exterior, and of which we do not then deduce ſome concluſion reſpecting its interior good or bad properties. Is not all nature phyſiognomy, ſuperficies and contents, body and ſpirit, exterior effect and internal power, inviſible beginning and viſible ending?

Phyſiognomy, whether underſtood in its moſt extenſive or confined ſignification, is the origin of all human deciſions, efforts, actions, expectations, fears and hopes; of all pleaſing and unpleaſing ſenſations, which are occaſioned by external objects. From the cradle to the grave, in all conditions and ages, throughout all nations, from Adam to the laſt exiſting man, from the worm we tread on to the moſt ſublime of philoſophers, phyſiognomy is the origin of all we do and ſuffer.

Every inſect is acquainted with its friend and its ſoe; each child loves and fears, although it knows not why. Phyſiognomy is the cauſe: nor is there a man to be found on earth who is not daily influenced by phyſiognomy; not a man who cannot figure to himſelf a countenance, which ſhall to him appear exceedingly lovely, or exceedingly hateful; not a man who does not, more or leſs, the firſt time he is in company with a ſtranger, obſerve, eſtimate, compare, and judge of him according to appearances, although he might never have heard of the word or thing called phyſiognomy; not a man who does not judge of all things that paſs through his hands by their phyſiognomy, that is, their internal worth by their external appearance.

The act of diſſimulation itſelf, which is adduced as ſo inſuperable an objection to the truth of phyſiognomy, is founded upon phyſiognomy. Why does the hypocrite aſſume the appearance of an honeſt man, but becauſe that he is convinced, though not perhaps from any ſyſtematic reflexion, that all eyes are acquainted with the characteriſtic mark of honeſty?

What judge, wiſe or unwiſe, whether the criminal, confeſs or deny the fact, does not ſometimes in this ſenſe decide from appearances? Who can, is, or ought to be abſolutely indifferent to the exterior of perſons brought before him to be judged? What king would chooſe a miniſter without examining his exterior, ſecretly at leaſt, and to a certain extent? An officer will not enliſt a ſoldier without thus examining his appearance, putting his height out of the queſtion. What maſter or miſtreſs of a family will chooſe a ſervant without conſidering the exterior? No matter that their judgment may or may not be juſt, or that it may be exerciſed unconſciouſly.

I am weary of citing ſuch numerous inſtances, which are ſo continually before our eyes, to prove that men, tacitly and unanimouſly, confeſs the influence which phyſiognomy has over their ſenſations and actions. I feel diſguſt at being obliged to write thus, in order to convince the learned of truths which lie within the reach of every child.

Let him ſee who has eyes to ſee; but ſhould the light by being brought too cloſe to his eyes, produce phrenſy, he may burn himſelf by endeavouring to extinguiſh the torch of truth. I am not fond of uſing ſuch expreſſions; but I dare to do my duty, and my duty is boldly to declare, that I believe myſelf certain of what I now and hereafter ſhall affirm; and that I think myſelf capable of convincing all lovers of truth, by principles which are in themſelves incontrovertible. It is alſo neceſſary to confute the pretenſions of certain literary deſpots, and to compel them to be more cautious in their deciſions. It is therefore proved, it being an eternal and manifeſt truth, that, whether they are or are not ſenſible of it, all men are daily influenced by phyſiognomy; nay, there is not a living being, which does not, at leaſt after its manner, draw ſome inferences from the external to the internal; which does not judge concerning that which is not, by that which is apparent to the ſenſes.

This univerſal though tacit confeſſion, that the exterior, the viſible, the ſuperficies of objects, indicate their nature, their properties, and that every outward ſign is the ſymbol of ſome inherent quality, I hold to be equally certain and important to the ſcience of phyſiognomy.

When each apple, each apricot, has a phyſiognomy peculiar to itſelf; ſhall man, the lord of earth, have none? The moſt ſimple and inanimate object has its characteriſtic exterior, by which it is not only diſtinguiſhed as a ſpecies, but individually; and ſhall the firſt, nobleſt, beſt harmoniſed, and moſt beautiful being, be denied all characteriſtic?

Whatever may be objected againſt the truth and certainty of the ſcience of phyſiognomy, by the moſt illiterate or the moſt learned; how much ſoever he, who openly profeſſes faith in this ſcience, may be ſubject to ridicule, to philoſophic pity and contempt; it ſtill cannot be conteſted, that there is no ſubject, thus conſidered, more important, more worthy of obſervation, more intereſting than man; nor any occupation ſuperior to that of diſcloſing the beauties and perfections of human nature.

I ſhall now proceed to inquire into the Advantages of phyſiognomy. Whether a more certain, more accurate, more extenſive, and thereby a more perfect knowledge of man, be, or be not profitable; whether it be, or be not, advantageous to gain a knowledge of internal qualities from external form and feature? is a queſtion moſt deſerving of inquiry. This may be claſſed firſt as a general queſtion, Whether knowledge, its extenſion, and increaſe, be of conſequence to man?

Certain it is, that if a man has the power, faculties and will to obtain wiſdom, that he ſhould exerciſe thoſe faculties for the attainment of wiſdom. How paradoxical are thoſe proofs, that ſcience and knowledge are detrimental to man, and that a rude ſtate of ignorance is to be preferred to all that wiſdom can teach! I here dare aſſert, that phyſiognomy has at leaſt as many claims of eſſential advantage, as are granted by men, in general, to other ſciences.

With how much juſtice may we not grant precedency to that ſcience which teaches the knowledge of men? What object is ſo important to man, as man himſelf? What knowledge can more influence his happineſs, than the knowledge of himſelf? This advantageous knowledge is the peculiar province of phyſiognomy.

Whoever would wiſh perfect conviction of the advantages of phyſiognomy, let him imagine but for a moment, that all phyſiognomical knowledge and ſenſation were loſt to the world. What confuſion, what uncertainty and abſurdity muſt take place in millions of inſtances, among the actions of men! How perpetual muſt be the vexation of the eternal uncertainty in all which we ſhould have to tranſact with each other! and how infinitely would probability, which depends upon a multitude of circumſtances, more or leſs diſtinctly perce[••]ed, be weakened by this privation! From how vaſt a number of actions, by which men are honoured and benefited, muſt they then deſiſt!

Mutual intercourſe is the thing of moſt conſequence to mankind, who are deſtined to live in ſociety. The knowledge of man is the ſoul of this intercourſe, that which imparts animation to it, pleaſure and profit. Let the phyſiognomiſt obſerve varieties, make minute diſtinctions, eſtabliſh ſigns, and invent words, to expreſs theſe his remarks; form general abſtract propoſitions; extend and improve phyſiognomical knowledge, language, and ſenſation; and thus will the uſes and advantages of phyſiognomy progreſſively increaſe.

Phyſiognomy is a ſource of the pureſt, the moſt exalted ſenſations; an additional eye, wherewith to view the manifold proofs of Divine wiſdom and goodneſs in the creation, and, while thus viewing unſpeakable harmony and truth, to excite more ecſtatic love for their adorable Author. Where the dark, inattentive ſight of the unexperienced perceives nothing, there the practical view of the phyſiognomiſt diſcovers inexhauſtible fountains of delight—endearing, moral, and ſpiritual. With ſecret delight, the philanthropic phyſiognomiſt diſcerns thoſe internal motives which would otherwiſe be firſt revealed in the world to come. He diſtinguiſhes what is permanent in the character from what is habitual, and what is habitual from what is accidental. He, thererefore, who reads man in this language, reads him moſt accurately.

To enumerate all the advantages of phſiognomy, would require a large treatiſe. The moſt indiſputable, though the moſt important of theſe its advantages, are thoſe the painter acquires, who, if he be not a phyſiognomiſt, is nothing. The greateſt is that of forming, conducting, and improving the human heart.

I ſhall now ſay ſomething with reſpect to the Diſadvantages of phyſiognomy.

Methinks I hear ſome worthy man exclaim: O thou, who haſt ever hitherto lived the friend of religion and virtue! what is thy preſent purpoſe? What miſchief ſhall not be wrought by this thy phyſiognomy? Wilt thou teach man the unbleſſed art of judging his brother by the ambiguous expreſſions of his countenance? Are there not already ſufficient of cenſoriouſneſs, ſcandal, and inſpection into the failings of others? Wilt thou teach man to read the ſecrets of the heart, the latent feelings, and the various errors of thought?

Thou dwelleſt upon the advantages of the ſcience; ſayeſt thou ſhalt teach men to contemplate the beauty of virtue, the hatefulneſs of vice, and, by theſe means, make them virtuous; and that thou inſpireſt us with an abhorrence of vice, by obliging us to feel its external deformity. And what ſhall be the conſequence? Shall it not be, that for the appearance, and not the reality of goodneſs, man ſhall wiſh to be good? that, vain as he already is, acting from the deſire of praiſe, and wiſhing only to appear what he ought determinately to be, he will yet become more vain, and will court the praiſe of men, not by words and deeds alone, but by aſſumed looks and counterfeited forms? Oughteſt thou not rather to weaken this already too powerful motive for human actions, and to ſtrengthen a better; to turn the eyes inward, to teach actual improvement and ſilent innocence, inſtead of inducing him to reaſon on the outward fair expreſſions of goodneſs, or the hateful ones of wickedneſs?

This is a heavy accuſation, and with great appearance of truth. Yet how eaſy is defence to me, and how pleaſant, when my opponent accuſes me from motives of philanthropy, and not of ſplenetic diſpute! The charge is twofold, Cenſoriouſneſs and Vanity. I will anſwer theſe charges ſeparately; and now proceed to reply to the firſt objection.

I teach no black art; no noſtrum, the ſecret of which I might have concealed, which is a thouſand times injurious for once that it is profitable, the diſcovery of which is therefore ſo difficult. I do but teach a ſcience, the moſt general, the moſt palpable, with which all men are acquainted; and ſtate my feelings, obſervations, and their conſequences.

It ought never to be forgotten, that the very purport of outward expreſſion is to teach what paſſes in the mind, and that to deprive man of this ſource of knowledge were to reduce him to utter ignorance; that every man is born with a certain portion of phyſiognomical ſenſation, as certainly as that every man, who is not deformed, is born with two eyes; that all men, in their intercourſe with each other, form phyſiognomical deciſions, according as their judgment is more or leſs clear; that it is well known, though phyſiognomy were never to be reduced to a ſcience, moſt men, in proportion as they have mingled with the world, derive ſome profit from their knowledge of mankind, even at the firſt glance, and that the ſame effects were produced long before this queſtion was in agitation. Whether, therefore, to teach men to decide with more perſpicuity and certainty, inſtead of confuſedly; to judge clearly with refined ſenſations, inſtead of rudely and erroneouſly with ſenſations more groſs; and, inſtead of ſuffering them to wander in the dark, and venture abortive and injurious judgments, to learn them by phyſiognomical experiments, by the rules of prudence and caution, and the ſublime voice of philanthropy, to miſtruſt, to be diffident and ſlow to pronounce, where they imagine they diſcover evil: whether this, I ſay, can be injurious, I leave the world to determine.

I think I may venture to affirm, that very few perſons will, in conſequence of this work, begin to judge ill of others, who had not before been guilty of the practice.

The ſecond objection to phyſiognomy is, that it renders men vain, and teaches them to aſſume a plauſible appearance. The men thou wouldſt reform are not children, who are good, and know that they are ſo; but men who muſt, from experience, learn to diſtinguiſh between good and evil; men who, to become perfect, muſt neceſſarily be taught their own various, and conſequently their own beneficent qualities. Let therefore, the deſire of obtaining approbation from the good, act in concert with the impulſe to goodneſs. Let this be the ladder, or, if you pleaſe, the crutch to ſupport tottering virtue. Suffer men to feel that God has ever branded vice with deformity, and adorned virtue with inimitable beauty. Allow man to rejoice when he perceives that his countenance improves in proportion as his heart is ennobled. Inform him only, that to be good from vain motives, is not actual good, but vanity; that the ornaments of vanity will ever be inferior and ignoble; and that the dignified mien of virtue never can be truly attained, but by the actual poſſeſſion of virtue, unſullied by the leven of vanity.

Let me now ſay a word or two as to the E[•]ſe and Difficulties attending the ſtudy of phyſiognomy. To learn the loweſt, the leaſt difficult of ſciences, at firſt appears an arduous undertaking, when taught by words or books, and not reduced to actual practice. What numerous dangers and difficulties might be ſtarted againſt all the daily enterpriſes of men, were it not undeniable that they are performed with facility! How might not the poſſibility of making a watch, and ſtill more a watch worn in a ring, or of ſailing over the vaſt ocean, and of numberleſs other arts and inventions, be diſputed, did we not behold them conſtantly practiſed! How many arguments might be urged againſt the practice of phyſic! and, though ſome of them be unanſwerable, how many are the reverſe!

It is not juſt, too haſtily to decide on the poſſible eaſe or difficulty of any ſubject which we have not yet examined. The ſimpleſt may abound with difficulties to him who has not made frequent experiments, and, by frequent experiments, the moſt difficult may become eaſy.

Whoever poſſeſſes the ſlighteſt capacity for, and has once acquired the habit of, obſervation and compariſon, ſhould he ſee himſelf daily and inceſſantly ſurrounded by hoſts of difficulties, yet he will certainly be able to make a progreſs. There is no ſtudy, however difficult, which may not be attained by perſeverance and reſolution.

We have men conſtantly before us. In the very ſmalleſt towns there is a continual influx and reflux of perſons, of various and oppoſite characters: among theſe many are known to us without conſulting phyſiognomy; and that they are patient or choloric, credulous or ſuſpicious, wiſe or fooliſh, of moderate or weak capacity, we are convinced paſt contradiction. Their countenances are as widely various as their characters, and theſe variety of countenances may each be as accurately drawn as their varieties of character may be deſcribed.

There are men, with whom we have daily intercourſe, and whoſe intereſt and ours are connected. Be their diſſimulation what it may, paſſion will frequently for a moment, ſnatch off the maſk, and give us a glance, at leaſt a ſide-view, of their true form.

Has Nature beſtowed on man the eye and ear, and yet made her language ſo difficult, or ſo entirely unintelligible? and not the eye and ear alone, but feeling, nerves, internal ſenſations, and yet has rendered the language of the ſuperficies ſo confuſed, ſo obſcure? She who has adapted ſound to the ear, and the ear to ſound; ſhe who has created light for the eye, and the eye for light; ſhe who has taught man ſo ſoon to ſpeak, and to underſtand ſpeech; ſhall ſhe have imparted innumerable traits and marks of ſecret inclinations, powers, and paſſions, accompanied by perception, ſenſation, and an impulſe to interpret them to his advantage; and, after beſtowing ſuch ſtrong incitements, ſhall ſhe have denied him the poſſibility of quenching this his thirſt of knowledge? She who has given him penetration to diſcover ſciences ſtill more profound, though of much inferior utility; who has taught him to trace out the paths, and meaſure the curves of comets; who has put a teleſcope into his hand, that he may view the ſatellites of the planets, and has endowed him with the capability of calculating their eclipſes through revolving ages; ſhall ſo kind a mother have denied her children (her truth-ſeeking pupils, her noble philanthropic offſpring, who are ſo willing to admire and rejoice in the majeſty of the Moſt High, viewing man his maſter-piece) the power of reading the ever preſent, ever open book of the human countenance; of reading man, the moſt beautiful of all her works, the compendium of all things, the mirror of the Deity?

Awake! view man in all his infinite forms! Look, for thou mayeſt eternally learn; ſhake off thy ſloth, and behold. Meditate on its importance; take reſolution to thyſelf, and the moſt difficult ſhall become eaſy.

Let me now mention the Difficulties attending this ſtudy. There is a peculiar circumſtance attending the ſtarting of difficulties. There are ſome who poſſeſs the particular gift of diſcovering and inventing difficulties, without number of limits, on the moſt common and eaſy ſubjects. I ſhall be brief on the innumerable difficulties of phyſiognomy; becauſe, it not being my intention to cite them all in this place, the moſt important will occaſionally be noticed and anſwered in the courſe of the work. I have an additional motive to be brief, which is, that moſt of theſe difficulties are included in the indeſcribable minuteneſs of innumerable traits of character, or the impoſſibility of ſeizing, expreſſing, and analyſing certain ſenſations and obſervations.

Nothing can be more certain than that the ſmalleſt ſhades, which are ſcarcely diſcernible to an unexperienced eye, frequently denote total oppoſition of character. How wonderfully may the expreſſion of countenance and character be altered by a ſmall inflexion or diminiſhing, lengthening or ſharpening, even though but of a hair's breadth!

How difficult, how impoſſible, muſt this variety of the ſame countenance, even in the moſt accurate of the arts of imitation, render preciſion! How often does it happen, that the ſeat of character is ſo hidden, ſo enveloped, ſo maſked, that it can only be caught in certain, and perhaps uncommon poſitions of the countenance; which will again be changed, and the ſigns all diſappear, before they have made any durable impreſſion! or, ſuppoſing the impreſſion made, theſe diſtinguiſhing traits may be ſo difficult to ſeize, that it ſhall be impoſſible to paint, much leſs to engrave, or deſcribe them by language.

It is with phyſiognomy as with all other objects of taſte, literal or figurative, of ſenſe, or of ſpirit. How many thouſand accidents, great and ſmall, phyſical and moral; how many ſecret incidents, alterations, paſſions; how often will dreſs, poſition, light and ſhade; and innumerable diſcordant circumſtances, ſhow the countenance ſo diſadvantageouſly, or, to ſpeak more properly, betray the phyſiognomiſt into a falſe judgment on the true qualities of the countenance and character! How eaſily may theſe occaſion him to overlook the eſſential traits of character, and form his judgment on what is wholly accidental! How ſurpriſingly may the ſmall-pox, during life, disfigure the countenance! How may it deſtroy, confuſe, or render the moſt deciſive traits imperceptible!

We will therefore grant the oppoſer of phyſiognomy all he can aſk, although we do not live without hope, that many of the difficulties ſhall be reſolved, which, at firſt, appeared to the reader and to the author inexplicable^[1]

It is highly incumbent upon me that I ſhould not lead my readers to expect more from me than I am able to perform. Whoever publiſhes a conſiderable work on phyſiognomy, gives his readers apparently to underſtand, that he is much better acquainted with the ſubject than any of his cotemporaries. Should an error eſcape him, he expoſes himſelf to the ſevereſt ridicule; he is contemned, at leaſt by thoſe who do not read him, for pretenſions which probably they ſuppoſe him to make, but which in reality he does not make.

The God of truth, and all who know me, will bear teſtimony, that from my whole ſoul I deſpiſe deceit, as I do all ſilly claims to ſuperior wiſdom and infallibility, which ſo many writers, by a thouſand artifices, endeavour to make their readers imagine they poſſeſs.

Firſt, therefore, I declare, what I have uniformly declared on all occaſions, although the perſons who ſpeak of me and my works endeavour to conceal it from themſelves and others, that I underſtand but little of phyſiognomy; that I have been, and continue daily to be, miſtaken in my judgment: but theſe errors are the moſt natural and moſt certain means of correcting, confirming, and extending my knowledge.

It will probably not be diſagreeable to many of my readers, to be informed, in part, of the progreſs of my mind in this ſtudy.

Before I reached the twenty-fifth year of my age, there was nothing I ſhould have ſuppoſed more improbable, than that I ſhould make the ſmalleſt inquiries concerning, much leſs that I ſhould write a book on, phyſiognomy. I was neither inclined to read nor make the ſlighteſt obſervations on the ſubject. The extreme ſenſibility of my nerves occaſioned me, however, to feel certain emotions at beholding certain countenances. I ſometimes inſtinctively formed a judgment according to theſe firſt impreſſions, and was laughed at, aſhamed, and became cautious. Years paſſed away before I again dared, impelled by ſimilar impreſſions, to venture ſimilar opinions. In the mean time, I occaſionally ſketched the countenance of a friend, whom by chance I had lately been obſerving. I had, from my earlieſt youth, a propenſity to drawing, and eſpecially to drawing of portraits, although I had but little genius or perſeverance. By this practice my latent feelings began partly to unfold themſelves. The various proportions, ſimilitudes, and varieties of the human countenance became more apparent. It has happened that, on two ſucceſſive days, I have drawn two faces, the features of which had a remarkable reſemblance. This awakened my attention; and my aſtoniſhment increaſed when I received certain proofs that theſe perſons were as ſimilar in character as in feature.

I was afterwards induced by M. Zimmermann, phyſician to the court of Hanover to write my thoughts on this ſubject. I met with many opponents; and this oppoſition obliged me to make deeper and more laborious reſearches, till at length the preſent work on phyſiognomy was produced.

Here I muſt repeat the full conviction I feel, that my whole life would be inſufficient to form any approach towards a perfect and conſiſtent whole. It is a field too vaſt for me ſingly to till. I ſhall find various opportunities of confeſſing my deficiency in various branches of ſcience, without which it is impoſſible to ſtudy phyſiognomy with that firmneſs and certainty which are requiſite. I ſhall conclude by declaring, with unreſerved candour, and wholly committing myſelf to the reader who is the friend of truth,

That I have heard, from the weakeſt men, remarks on the human countenance, more acute than thoſe I had made; remarks which made mine appear trifling.

That I believe, were various other people to ſketch countenances, and write their obſervations, thoſe I have hitherto made would ſoon become of little importance.

That I daily meet an hundred faces, concerning which I am unable to pronounce any certain opinion.

That no man has any thing to fear from my inſpection, as it is my endeavour to find good in man, nor are there any men in whom good is not to be found.

That ſince I have begun thus, to obſerve mankind, my philanthropy is not diminiſhed, but, I will venture to ſay, increaſed.

And that now (January 1783), after ten years daily ſtudy, I am not more convinced of the certainty of my own exiſtence, than of the truth of the ſcience of phyſiognomy, or than that this truth may be demonſtrated: and that I hold him to be a weak and ſimple perſon, who ſhall affirm, that the effects of the impreſſions made upon him by all poſſible human countenances are equal.

CHAPTER II.

On the Nature of Men, which is the Foundation of the Science of Phyſiognomy—Difference between Phyſiognomy and Pathognomy.

MAN is the moſt perfect of all earthly creatures, the moſt imbued with the principles of life. Each particle of matter is an immenſity, each leaf a world, each inſect an inexplicable compendium. Who, then, ſhall enumerate the gradations between inſect and man? In him all the powers of nature are united. He is the eſſence of creation. The ſon of earth, he is the earth's lord: the ſummary and central point of all exiſtence, of all powers, and of all life, on that earth which he inhabits.

There are no organiſed beings with which we are acquainted, man alone excepted, in which are ſo wonderfully united theſe different kinds of life, the animal, the intellectual, and the moral. Each of theſe lives is the compendium of various faculties, moſt wonderfully compounded and harmoniſed.

To know, to deſire, to act, or accurately to obſerve and meditate, to perceive and to wiſh, to poſſeſs the power of motion and reſiſtance—theſe combined, conſtitute man an animal, intellectual, and moral being.

Endowed with theſe faculties, and with this triple life, man is in himſelf the moſt worthy ſubject of obſervation, as he likewiſe is himſelf the moſt worthy obſerver. In him each ſpecies of life is conſpicuous; yet never can his properties be wholly known, except by the aid of his external form, his body, his ſuperficies. How ſpiritual, how incorporeal ſoever his internal eſſence may be, ſtill is he only viſible and conceivable from the harmony of his conſtituent parts. From theſe he is inſeparable. He exiſts and moves in the body he inhabits, as in his element. This threefold life which man cannot be denied to poſſeſs, neceſſarily firſt becomes the ſubject of diſquiſition and reſearch, as it preſents itſelf in the form of body, and in ſuch of his faculties as are apparent to ſenſe.

By ſuch external appearances as affect the ſenſes, all things are characteriſed; they are the foundations of all human knowledge. Man muſt wander in the darkeſt ignorance, equally with reſpect to himſelf and the objects that ſurround him, did he not become acquainted with their properties and powers by the aid of their externals; and had not each object a character peculiar to its nature and eſſence, which acquaints us with what it is, and enables us to diſtinguiſh it from what it is not.

We ſurvey all bodies that appear to ſight under a certain form and ſuperficies; we behold thoſe outlines traced which are the reſult of their organiſation. I hope I ſhall be pardoned the repetition of common-place truths, ſince on theſe is built the ſcience of phyſiognomy, or the proper ſtudy of man.

The organiſation of man peculiarly diſtinguiſhes him from all other earthly beings; and his phyſiognomy, that is to ſay, his ſuperficies, and outlines of this organiſation, ſhow him to be infinitely ſuperior to all thoſe viſible beings by which he is ſurrounded. We are unacquainted with any form equally noble, equally majeſtic with that of man; and in which ſo many kinds of life, ſo many powers, ſo many virtues of action and motion unite as in a central point. With firm ſtep he advances over the earth's ſurface, and with erect body raiſes his head to heaven. He looks forward to infinitude; he acts with facility and ſwiftneſs inconceivable, and his motions are the moſt immediate and the moſt varied. By whom may their varieties be enumerated? He can at once both ſuffer and perform infinitely more than any other creature. He unites flexibility and fortitude, ſtrength and dexterity, activity and reſt. Of all creatures he can the ſooneſt yield, and the longeſt reſiſt. None reſemble him in the variety and harmony of his powers. His faculties, like his form, are peculiar to himſelf.

The make and proportion of man, his ſuperior height, capable of ſo many changes, and ſuch variety of motion, prove to the unprejudiced obſerver his ſuperior eminent ſtrength, and aſtoniſhing facility of action. The high excellence and phyſiological unity of human nature are viſible at the firſt glance. The head, eſpecially the face, and the formation of the firm parts, compared to the firm parts of other animals, convince the accurate obſerver, who is capable of inveſtigating truth, of the greatneſs and ſuperiority of his intellectual qualities. The eye, the look, the cheeks, the mouth, the forehead, whether conſidered in a ſtate of entire reſt, or during their innumerable varieties of motion,—in fine, whatever is underſtood by phyſiognomy—are the moſt expreſſive, the moſt convincing picture of interior ſenſation, deſires, paſſions, will, and of all thoſe properties which ſo much exalt moral above animal life.

Although the phyſiological, intellectual, and moral life of man, with all their ſubordinate powers, and their conſtituent parts, ſo eminently unite in one being; although theſe three kinds of life do not, like three diſtinct families, reſide in ſeparate parts or ſtories of the body, but co-exiſt in one point, and by their combination form one whole; yet it is plain, that each of theſe powers of life has its peculiar ſtation, where it more eſpecially unfolds itſelf and acts.

It is beyond contradiction evident, that, though phyſiological or animal life diſplays itſelf through all the body and eſpecially through all the animal parts, yet it acts more conſpicuouſly in the arm, from the ſhoulder to the ends of the fingers.

It is not leſs evident, that intellectual life, or the power of the underſtanding and the mind, make themſelves moſt apparent in the circumference and form of the ſolid parts of the head, eſpecially the forehead; though they will diſcover themſelves, to an attentive and accurate eye, in every part and point of the human body, by the congeniality and harmony of the various parts. Is there any occaſion to prove, that the power of thinking reſides neither in the foot, in the hand, nor in the back, but in the head, and in its internal parts?

The moral life of man particularly reveals itſelf in the lines, marks and tranſitions of the countenance. His moral powers and deſires; his irritability, ſympathy, and antipathy; his facility of attracting or repelling the objects that ſurround him: theſe are all ſummed up in, and painted upon his countenance when at reſt. When any paſſion is called into action, ſuch paſſion is depicted by the motion of the muſcles, and theſe motions are accompanied by a ſtrong palpitation of the heart. If the countenance be tranquil, it always denotes tranquillity in the region of the heart and breaſt.

This threefold life of man, ſo intimately interwoven through his frame, is ſtill capable of being ſtudied in its different appropriate parts; and, did we live in a leſs depraved world, we ſhould find ſufficient data for the ſcience of phyſiognomy.

The animal life, the loweſt and moſt earthly, would diſcover itſelf from the rim of the belly to the organs of generation, which would become its central or focal point. The middle or moral life would be ſeated in the breaſt, and the heart would be its central point. The intellectual life, which of the three is ſupreme, would reſide in the head, and have the eye for its centre. If we take the countenance as the repreſentative and epitome of the three diviſions, then will the forehead to the eyebrows be the mirror or image of the underſtanding; the noſe and cheeks, the image of the moral and ſenſitive life; and the mouth and chin, the image of the animal life; while the eye will be to the whole as its ſummary and centre.

All that has been hitherto advanced is ſo clear, ſo well known, ſo univerſal, that we ſhould bluſh to inſiſt upon ſuch common-place truths, were they not firſt the foundation on which we muſt build all we have to propoſe; and, again, had not theſe truths (can it be believed by futurity?) in this our age been ſo many thouſand times miſtaken and conteſted with the moſt inconceivable affectation.

The ſcience of phyſiognomy, whether underſtood in the moſt enlarged or moſt confined ſenſe, indubitably depends on theſe general and incontrovertible principles; yet, incontrovertible as they are, they have not been without their opponents. Men pretend to doubt of the moſt ſtriking, the moſt convincing, the moſt ſelf-evident truths; although, were theſe deſtroyed, neither truth nor knowledge would remain. They do not profeſs to doubt concerning the phyſiognomy of other natural objects; yet do they doubt the phyſiognomy of human nature—the firſt object, the moſt worthy of contemplation, and the moſt animated the realms of nature contain.

We have already hinted to our readers, that they are to expect only fragments on phyſiognomy from us, and not a perfect ſyſtem. However, what has been ſaid, may ſerve as a ſketch for ſuch a ſyſtem. We ſhall conclude this chapter with ſnowing the difference between Phyſiognomy and Pathognomy.

Phyſiognomy is the ſcience or knowledge of the correſpondence between the external and internal man, the viſible ſuperficies and the inviſible contents. Phyſiognomy, oppoſed to pathognomy, is the knowledge of the ſigns of the power and inclinations of men—Pathognomy is the knowledge of the ſigns of the paſſions. Phyſiognomy therefore teaches the knowledge of character at reſt, and pathognomy of character in motion. Character at reſt is taught by the form of the ſolid and the appearance of the moveable parts while at [〈◊〉] Character impaſſioned is manifeſted by the moveable parts in motion.

Phyſiognomy may be compared to the ſum-total of the mind; pathognomy, to the intereſt which is the product of this ſum-total. The former ſhows what man is in general, the latter what he becomes at particular moments; or, the one what he might be, the other what he is. The firſt is the root and ſtem of the ſecond, the ſoil in which it is planted. Whoever believes the latter and not the former, believes in fruit without a tree, in corn without land.

CHAPTER III.

Signs of Bodily Strength and Weakneſs—Of Health and Sickneſs.

WE call that human body ſtrong, which can eaſily alter other bodies, without being eaſily altered itſelf. The more immediate it can act, and the leſs immediately it can be acted upon, the greater is its ſtrength; and the weaker, the leſs it can act, or withſtand the action of others. There is a tranquil ſtrength, the eſſence of which is immobility; and there is an active ſtrength, the eſſence of which is motion. The one has motion, the other ſtability, in an extraordinary degree. There is the ſtrength of the rock, and the elaſticity of the ſpring.

There is the Herculean ſtrength of bones and ſinews; thick, firm, compact, and immoveable as a pillar.

There are heroes leſs Herculean, leſs firm, ſinewy, large; leſs ſet, leſs rocky; who yet, when rouſed, when oppoſed in their activity, will meet oppreſſion with ſo much ſtrength, will reſiſt weight with ſuch elaſtic force, as ſcarcely to be equalled by the moſt muſcular ſtrength.

The elephant has native, bony ſtrength. Irritated or not, he bears prodigious burdens, and cruſhes all on which he treads. An irritated waſp has ſtrength of a totally different kind: but both have compactneſs for their foundation, and eſpecially the firmneſs of conſtruction. All poroſity deſtroys ſtrength.

The ſtrength, like the underſtanding of a man, is diſcovered by its being more or leſs compact. The elaſticity of a body has ſigns ſo remarkable, that they will not permit us to confound ſuch body with one that is not elaſtic. How manifeſt are the varieties of ſtrength between the foot of an elephant and a ſtag, a waſp and a fly!

Tranquil, firm ſtrength is ſhown in the proportions of the form, which ought rather to be ſhort than long. In the thick neck, the broad ſhoulders, and the countenance, which, in a ſtate of health, is rather bony than fleſhy. In the ſhort, compact, the knotty forehead; and eſpecially when the ſinus frontales are viſible, but not too far projecting; flat in the middle, or ſuddenly indented, but not in ſmooth cavities. In horizontal eyebrows, ſituated near the eye. Deep eyes, and ſtedfaſt look. In the broad, firm noſe, bony near the forehead, eſpecially in its ſtraight, angular outlines. In ſhort, thick, curly hair of the head and beard. In ſhort, broad teeth, ſtanding cloſe to each other. In compact lips, of which the under rather projects than retreats. In the ſtrong, prominent, broad chin. In the ſtrong, projecting os occipitis. In the baſs voice, the firm ſtep, and in ſitting ſtill.

Elaſtic ſtrength, the living power of irritability, muſt be diſcovered in the moment of action; and the firm ſigns muſt afterwards be abſtracted, when the irritated power is once more at reſt. This body, therefore, which at reſt was capable of ſo little, acted and reſiſted ſo weakly, can, thus irritated, and with this degree of tenſion, become thus powerful. We ſhall find on inquiry, that this ſtrength, awakened by irritation, generally reſides in thin, tall, but not very tall, and bony, rather than muſcular bodies; in bodies of dark or pale complexions; of rapid motion, joined with a certain kind of ſtiffneſs; of haſty and firm walk; of fixed penetrating look; and with open lips, but eaſily and accurately to be cloſed.

Signs of weakneſs are, diſproportionate length of body; much fleſh; little bone; extenſion; a tottering frame; a looſe ſkin; round, obtuſe, and particularly hollow outlines of the forehead and noſe; ſmallneſs of noſe and chin; little noſtrils; the retreating chin; long, cylindrical neck; the walk very haſty or languid, without firmneſs of ſtep; the timid aſpect; cloſing eyelids; open mouth; long teeth; the jaw-bone long, but bent towards the ear; whiteneſs of complexion; teeth inclined to be yellow or green; fair, long, and tender hair; ſhrill voice.

I ſhall now proceed to conſider Medicinal Semeiotics, or the Signs of Health and Sickneſs.—Not I, but an experienced phyſician ought to write on the phyſiognomonical and pathognomonical ſemeiotica of health and ſickneſs, and deſcribe the phyſiological character of the body, and its propenſities to this or that diſorder. I am beyond deſcription ignorant with reſpect to the nature of diſorders and their ſigns; ſtill may I, in conſequence of the few obſervations I have made, declare, with ſome certainty, by repeatedly examining the firm parts and outlines of the bodies and countenances of the ſick, that it is not difficult to predict what are the diſeaſes to which the man in health is moſt liable.

Of what infinite importance would ſuch phyſiognomonical ſemeiotics, or prognoſtics of poſſible or probable diſorders, be, founded on the nature and form of the body! How eſſential were it, could the phyſician ſay to the healthy, You naturally have, ſome time in your life, to expect this or that diſorder. Take the neceſſary precautions againſt ſuch or ſuch a diſeaſe. The virus of the ſmall-pox ſlumbers in your body, and may thus or thus be put in motion: thus the hectic, thus the intermittent, and thus the putrid fever. Oh, how worthy, Zimmermann, would a treatiſe on phyſiognomonical Diaet[•]tice (or regimen) be of thee!

Whoever ſhall read this author's work on Experience, will ſee ſee how characteriſtically he deſcribes various diſeaſes which originate in the paſſions. Some quotations from this work, which will juſtify my wiſh, and contain the moſt valuable ſemeiotical remarks, cannot be unacceptable to the reader.

The obſerving mind examines the phyſiognomy of the ſick, the ſigns of which extend over the whole body; but the progreſs and change of the diſeaſe is principally to be found in the countenance and its parts. Sometimes the patient carries the marks of his diſeaſe: in burning, bilious, and hectic fevers; in the chloroſis; the common and black jaundice; in worm caſes.—I, who know ſo little of phyſic, have ſeveral times diſcovered the diſeaſe of the tape-worm in the countenance.

In the furor uterinus, the leaſt obſervant can read the diſeaſe. The more the countenance is changed, in burning fevers, the greater is the danger. A man whoſe natural aſpect is mild and calm, but who ſtares at me, with a florid complexion, and wildneſs in his eyes, prognoſticates an approaching delirium. I have likewiſe ſeen a look indeſcribably wild, accompanied by paleneſs, when nature, in an inflammation of the lungs, was coming to a criſis, and the patient was becoming exceſſively cold and frantic. The countenance relaxed, the lips pale and hanging, in burning fevers, are bad ſymptoms, as they denote great debility; and if the change and decay of the countenance be ſudden, the danger is great. When the noſe is pointed, the face of a lead colour, and the lips livid, inflammation has produced gangrene.

There is frequently ſomething dangerous to be obſerved in the countenance, which cannot be known from other ſymptoms, and which yet is very ſignificant. Much is to be obſerved in the eyes. Boerhaave examined the eyes of the patient with a magnifying glaſs, that he might ſee if the blood entered the ſmaller veſſels. Hippocrates held, that the avoiding of light, involuntary tears, ſquinting, one eye leſs than the other, the white of the eye inflamed, the ſmall veins inclined to be black, too much ſwelled, or too much ſunken, were each and all bad ſymptoms.

The motion of the patient, and his poſition in bed, ought likewiſe to be enumerated among the particular ſymptoms of diſeaſe. The hand carried to the forehead, waved or groping in the air, ſcratching on the wall, and pulling up the bed-clothes, are of this kind. The poſition in bed is a very ſignificant ſign of the internal ſituation of the patient, and therefore deſerves every attention. The more unuſual the poſition is, in any inflammatory diſeaſe, the more certainly may we conclude that the anguiſh is great, and conſequently the danger. Hippocrates has deſcribed the poſition of the ſick, in ſuch caſes, with an accuracy that leaves nothing to be defined. The beſt poſition in ſickneſs is the uſual poſition in health.

I ſhall add ſome other remarks from this phyſician and phyſiognomiſt, whoſe abilities are ſuperior to envy, ignorance and quackery. Swift was lean while he was the prey of ambition, chagrin, and ill-temper; but, after the loſs of his underſtanding, he became fat. His deſcription of Envy, and its effects on the body, is incomparable. The effects of Envy are viſible, even in children. They become thin, and eaſily fall into conſumptions. Envy takes away the appetite and ſleep, and cauſes feveriſh motion; it produces gloom, ſhortneſs of breath, impatience, reſtleſſneſs, and a narrow cheſt. The good name of others, on which it ſeeks to avenge itſelf by ſlander, and feigned but not real contempt, hangs like the ſword ſuſpended by a hair over the head of Envy, that continually wiſhes to torture others, and is itſelf continually on the rack. The laughing ſimpleton becomes diſturbed as ſoon as Envy, that worſt of fiends, takes poſſeſſion of him, and he perceives that he vainly labours to debaſe that merit which he cannot rival. His eyes roll, he knits his forehead, he becomes moroſe, peeviſh, and hangs his lips. There is, it is true, a kind of envy that arrives at old age. Envy in her dark cave, poſſeſſed by toothleſs furies, there hoards her poiſon, which, with infernal wickedneſs, ſhe endeavours, to eject over each worthy perſon and honourable act. She defends the cauſe of vice, endeavours to confound right and wrong, and vitally wounds the pureſt innocence.

CHAPTER IV.

Of the Congeniality of the Human Form.

THE ſame vital powers that make the heart beat, give motion to the finger; that which roofs the ſkull, arches the finger-nail. Art is at varience with herſelf: not ſo Nature. Her creation is progreſſive. From the head to the back, from the ſhoulder to the arm, from the arm to the hand, and from the hand to the finger; from the root to the ſtem, the ſtem to the branch, the branch to the twig, the twig to the bloſſom and fruit, each depends on the other, and all on the root: each is ſimilar in nature and form. There is a determinate effect of a determinate power. Through all nature each determinate power is productive only of ſuch and ſuch determinate effects. The finger of one body is not adapted to the hand of another body. Each part of an organized body is an image of the whole. The blood in the extremity of the finger, has the character of the blood in the heart. The ſame congeniality is found in the nerves, in the bones. One ſpirit lives in all. Each member of the body is in proportion to that whole of which it is a part. As from the length of the ſmalleſt member, the ſmalleſt joint of the finger, the proportion of the whole, the length and breadth of the body may be found; ſo alſo may the form of the whole from the form of each ſingle part. When the head is long, all is long, or round when the head is round, or ſquare when it is ſquare. One form, one mind, one root appertain to all: therefore is each organized body ſo much a whole, that, without diſcord, deſtruction, or deformity, nothing can be added or diminiſhed.

Every thing in man is progreſſive; every thing congenial; form, ſtature, complexion, hair, ſkin, veins, nerves, bones, voice, walk, manner, ſtyle, paſſion, love, hatred. One and the ſame ſpirit is manifeſt in all. He has a determinate ſphere, in which his powers and ſenſations are allowed, within which they may be freely exerciſed, but beyond which he cannot paſs. Each countenance is, indeed, ſubject to momentary change, though not perceptible, even in its ſolid parts; but theſe changes are all proportionate: each is meaſured, each proper and peculiar to the countenance in which it takes place. The capability of change is limited. Even that which is affected, aſſumed, imitated, heterogeneous, ſtill has the properties of the individual, originating in the nature of the whole, and is ſo definite, that it is only poſſible in this, but in no other being.

I almoſt bluſh to repeat this in the preſent age. What, Poſterity! wilt thou ſuppoſe, thus to ſee me ſo often obliged to demonſtrate to pretended ſages, that nature makes no emendation? She labours from one to all. Her's is not disjointed organization, not moſaic work. The more there is of the moſaic in the works of artiſts, orators, or poets, the leſs are they natural; the leſs do they reſemble the copious ſtreams of the fountain; the ſtem extending itſelf to the remoteſt branch.

The more there is of progreſſion, the more there is of truth, power, and nature; the more extenſive, general, durable, and noble is the effect. The deſigns of nature are the deſigns of a moment; one form, one ſpirit, appear through the whole. Thus nature forms her leaſt plant, and thus her moſt exalted man. I ſhall have effected nothing by my phyſiognomical labours, if I am not able to deſtroy that opinion, ſo taſteleſs, ſo unworthy of the age, ſo oppoſite to all ſound philoſophy, that nature patches up the features of various countenances, in order to make one perfect countenance; and I ſhall think them well rewarded, if the congeniality, uniformity, and agreement of human organization be ſo demonſtrated, that he who ſhall deny it, will be declared to deny the light of the ſun at noon-day.

The human body is a plant, each part of which has the character of the ſtem. Suffer me to repeat this continually, ſince this moſt evident of all things is continually controverted, among all ranks of men, in words, deeds, books, and works of art. I therefore find the greateſt incongruities in the heads of the greateſt maſters. I know no painter, of whom I can ſay he has thoroughly ſtudied the harmony of the human outline, not even Pouſſin, no not even Raphael himſelf. Let any one claſs the forms of their countenances, and compare them with the forms of nature. Let him, for inſtance, draw the outlines of their foreheads, and endeavour to find ſimilar outlines in nature, and he will find incongruities, which could not have been expected in ſuch great maſters.

Chodowiecki, excepting the too great length and extent, particularly of his human figures, perhaps had the moſt exact feeling of congeniality in caricature, that is to ſay, of the relative propriety of the deformed, the humorous, or other characteriſtical members and features. For as there is conformity and congeniality in the beautiful, ſo is there alſo in the deformed. Every cripple has the diſtortion peculiar to himſelf, the effects of which are extended to his whole body. In like manner, the evil actions of the evil, and the good actions of the good, have a conformity of character; at leaſt, they are all tinged with this conformity of character.

Little as this ſeems to be remarked by poets and painters, ſtill is it the foundation of their art; for wherever emendation is viſible, there admiration is at an end. Why has no painter yet been pleaſed to place the blue eye beſide the brown one? Yet, abſurd as this would be, no leſs abſurd are the incongruities continually encountered by the phyſiognomical eye—The noſe of Venus on the head of Madona.—I have been aſſured by a man of faſhion, that, at a maſquerade, with only the aid of an artificial noſe, he entirely concealed himſelf from the knowledge of all his acquaintance. So much does nature reject what does not appertain to herſelf.

I have never yet met with one Roman noſe among an hundred circular foreheads in profile. In an hundred other ſquare foreheads, I have ſcarcely found one in which there were not cavities and prominences. I never yet ſaw a perpendicular forehead with ſtrongly arched features in the lower part of the countenance, the double chin excepted.

I meet no ſtrong-bowed eye-brows combined with bony perpendicular countenances.

Wherever the forehead is projecting, ſo in general are the under lips, children excepted.

I have never ſeen gently arched, yet much retreating foreheads, combined with a ſhort ſnub noſe, which, in profile, is ſharp and ſunken.

A viſible nearneſs of the noſe to the eye, is always attended by a viſible wideneſs between the noſe and mouth.

A long covering of the teeth, or, in other words a long ſpace between the noſe and mouth, always indicates ſmall upper lips. Length of form and face is generally attended by well drawn fleſhy lips.

I ſhall at preſent produce but one more example, which will convince all who poſſeſs acute phyſiognomical ſenſation, how great is the harmony of all nature's forms, and how much ſhe hates the incongruous.

Take two, three, or four ſhades of men remarkable for underſtanding; join the features ſo artificially that no defect ſhall appear, as far as relates to the act of joining; that is, take the forehead of one, add the noſe of a ſecond, the mouth of a third, the chin of a fourth, and the reſult of this combination of the ſigns of wiſdom ſhall be folly. Folly is perhaps nothing more than the emendation of ſome heterogeneous addition. But let theſe four wiſe countenances be ſuppoſed congruous. Let them ſo be ſuppoſed, or as nearly ſo as poſſible, ſtill their combination will produce the ſigns of folly.

Thoſe therefore who maintain that concluſion cannot be drawn from a part, from a ſingle ſection of the profile, to the whole, would be perfectly right, if unarbitrary Nature patched up countenances like arbitrary Art; but ſo ſhe does not. Indeed, when a man, being born with underſtanding, becomes a fool, there expreſſion of heterogeneouſneſs is the conſequence. Either the lower part of the countenance extends itſelf, or the eyes acquire a direction not conformable to the forehead, the mouth cannot remain cloſed, or the features of the countenance, in ſome other manner, loſe their conſiſtency: all becomes diſcord; and folly, in ſuch a countenance, is very manifeſt. Let him who would ſtudy phyſiognomy, ſtudy the relation of the conſtituent parts of the countenance: not having ſtudied theſe, he has ſtudied nothing.

He only is an accurate phyſiognomiſt, and has the true ſpirit of phyſiognomy, who poſſeſſes ſenſe, feeling, and ſympathetic proportion of the congeniality and harmony of nature; and who hath a ſimilar ſenſe and feeling for all emendations and additions of art and conſtraint. He is no phyſiognomiſt who doubts of the propriety, ſimplicity, and harmony of nature, or who has not this phyſiognomical eſſential; who ſuppoſes nature ſelects members to form a whole, as a compoſitor in a printing-houſe does letters to make up a word; who can ſuppoſe the works of nature are the patch-work of a harlequin jacket. Not the moſt inſignificant of inſects is ſo compounded, much leſs man, the moſt perfect of organized beings. He reſpires not the breath of wiſdom, who doubts of this progreſſion, continuity, and ſimplicity of the ſtructure of nature. He wants a general feeling for the works of nature; conſequently of art, the imitator of nature. I ſhall be pardoned this warmth. It is neceſſary. The conſequences are infinite, and extend to all things. He has the maſter-key of truth, who has this ſenſation of the congeniality of nature, and, by neceſſary induction, of the human form.

All imperfection in works of art, productions of the mind, moral actions, errors in judgment; all ſcepticiſm, infidelity, and ridicule of religion, naturally originate in the want of this knowledge and ſenſation. He ſoars above all doubt of the Divinity and Chriſt, who hath them, and who is conſcious of this congeniality. He alſo who, at firſt ſight, thoroughly underſtands and feels the congeniality of the human form, and that from the want of this congeniality ariſes the difference obſerved between the works of nature and of art, is ſuperior to all doubt concerning the truth and divinity of the human countenance.

Thoſe who have this ſenſe, this feeling, call it which you pleaſe, will attribute that only, and nothing more, to each countenance, which it is capable of receiving. They will conſider each according to its kind, and will as little ſeek to add a heterogeneous character, as a heterogeneous noſe to the face. Such will only unfold what nature is deſirous of unfolding, give what nature is capable of receiving, and take away that with which nature would not be incumbered. They will perceive in the child, pupil, friend, or wife when any diſcordant trait of character makes its appearance; and will endeavour to reſtore the original congeniality, the equilibrium of character and impulſe, by acting upon the ſtill remaining harmony, by cooperating with the yet unimpaired eſſential powers. They will conſider each ſin, each vice, as deſtructive of this harmony; will feel how much each departure from truth, in the human form, at leaſt to eyes more penetrating than human eyes are, muſt be manifeſt, muſt diſtort, and muſt become diſpleaſing to the Creator, by rendering it unlike his image. Who, therefore, can judge better of the works and actions of man, who leſs offend or be offended, who more clearly develop cauſe and effect, than the phyſiognomiſt, poſſeſſed of a full portion of this knowledge and ſenſation?

CHAPTER V.

Deſcription of Plates I. and II.

WE ſhall occaſionally introduce ſome figures, in order to ſupport and elucidate thoſe opinions and propoſitions which may be advanced. Theſe plates refer to objects that have been already alluded to in the preceding pages.

Deſcription of Plate I. Number 1. See the Frontiſpiece.

This is a boldly ſketched portrait of ALBERT DURER. Whoever examines this countenance, cannot but perceive in it the traits of fortitude, deep penetration, determined perſeverance, and inventive genius. At leaſt, every one will acknowledge the truth of theſe obſervations, when made.

Number 2. MONCRIEF.

There are few men capable of obſervation, who will claſs this viſage with the ſtupid. In the aſpect, the eye, the noſe eſpecially, and the mouth, are proofs, not to be miſtaken, of the accompliſhed gentleman, and the man of taſte.

Number 3. JOHNSON.

The moſt unpractiſed eye will eaſily diſcover, in this ſketch of Johnſon, the acute, the comprehenſive, the capacious mind, not eaſily deceived, and rather inclined to ſuſpicion than credulity.

Number 4. SHAKESPEARE.

How deficient muſt all outlines be! Among ten thouſand can one be found that is exact? Where is the outline that can pourtray genius? Yet who does not read, in this outline, imperfect as it is, from pure phyſiognomonical ſenſation, the clear, the capacious, the rapid mind, all conceiving, all embracing, that, with equal ſwiftneſs and facility, imagines, creates, produces?

Number 5. STERNE.

The moſt unpractiſed reader in phyſiognomy will not deny to this countenance all the keen, the ſearching penetration of wit, the moſt original fancy, full of fire, and the powers of invention.

Who is ſo dull as not to view, in this countenance, ſomewhat of the ſpirit of poor Yorick?

Number 6. S. CLARKE.

Perſpicuity, benevolence, dignity, ſerenity, diſpaſſionate meditation, the powers of conception and perſeverance, are the moſt apparent characteriſtics of this countenance. He who can hate ſuch a face, muſt laboriouſly counteract all thoſe phyſiognomonical ſenſations with which he was born.

Deſcription of Plate II.

Hitherto we have beheld nature in the moſt perfect of her productions; we muſt now view the reverſe: we muſt proceed to contemplate her in her deformity. In this alſo how intelligibly does ſhe ſpeak to the eyes of all, at the firſt glance!

Number 1.

Who does not here read reaſon debaſed, and ſtupidity almoſt ſunken to brutality? This eye, theſe wrinkles of a lowering forehead, this projecting mouth, the whole poſition of the head, do they not all denote manifeſt dulneſs and debility?

Number 2. A fool.

From the ſmall eyes in this figure, the open mouth, particularly from the under part of the countenance, no man whatever will expect penetration, reaſoning, or wiſdom.

Number 3.

True or falſe, nature or caricature, this countenance will, to the common ſenſations of all men, depict an inhuman and brutal character. It is impoſſible that brutality ſhould be overlooked in the noſe and mouth, or in the eye, though ſtill it deſerves to be called a human eye.

Number 4.

Let us proceed to the characters of paſſion, which are intelligible to every child; ſo that concerning theſe there can be no diſpute, if we are in any degree acquainted with their language. The more violent the paſſion is, the more apparent are its ſigns. The effect of the ſtiller paſſions is to contract, and of the violent to diſtend the muſcles. Every one will perceive, in this countenance, fear mingled with abhorrence.

Number 5.

No man will expect cheerfulneſs, tranquillity, content, ſtrength of mind, and magnanimity, from this countenance. Fear and terror are here ſtrongly marked.

Number 6.

Terror, heightened by native indocility of character, is here ſtrongly marked.

Such examples might be produced without end; but to adduce ſome of the moſt deciſive of the various claſſes is ſufficient. We ſhall give ſome farther ſpecimens hereafter.

CHAPTER VI.

The Univerſal Excellence of the Form of Man.

EACH creature is indiſpenſable in the immenſity of God's creation; but each creature does not known it is thus indiſpenſable. Of all earth's creatures, man alone rejoice in his indiſpenſability. No man can render any other man diſpenſable. The place of no man can be ſupplied by another.

This belief of the indiſpenſability and individuality of all men, and in our own metaphyſical indiſpenſability and individuality, is one of the unacknowledged, the noble fruits of phyſiognomy; a fruit pregnant with moſt precious ſeed, whence ſhall ſpring lenity and love. Oh, may poſterity behold them flouriſh! may future ages repoſe under their ſhade! The moſt deformed, the moſt corrupt of men is ſtill indiſpenſable in this world of God, and is more or leſs capable of knowing his own individuality and unſuppliable indiſpenſability. The wickedeſt, the moſt deformed of men, is ſtill more noble than the moſt beauteous and perfect animal. Contemplate, O man! what thy nature is, not what it might be, not what is wanting. Humanity, amid all its diſtortions, will ever remain wondrous humanity!

Inceſſantly might I repeat doctrines like this: Art thou better, more beauteous, nobler, than many others of thy fellow-creatures? If ſo, rejoice, and aſcribe it not to thyſelf, but to Him who, from the ſame clay, formed one veſſel for honour, another for diſhonour; to Him who, without thy advice, without thy prayer, without any deſert of thine, cauſed thee to be what thou art.

Yea, to Him! for what haſt thou, O man! that thou didſt not receive? Now, if thou didſt receive, why doſt thou glory as if thou hadſt not received?—Can the eye ſay to the hand, I have no need of thee?—He that oppreſſeth the poor, reproacheth his Maker.—God hath made of one blood all nations of men.—Who more deeply, more internally, feels all theſe divine truths than the phyſiognomiſt? the true phyſiognomiſt, who is not merely a man of literature, a reader, a reviewer, an author, but—a man!

I am ready to acknowledge, that the moſt humane phyſiognomiſt, he who ſo eagerly ſearches whatever is good, beautiful, and noble in nature; who delights in the ideal; who duly exerciſes, nouriſhes, refines his taſte, with humanity more improved, more perfect, more holy; even he is in frequent danger, at leaſt is frequently tempted to turn from the common herd of depraved men; from the deformed, the fooliſh, the apes, the hypocrites, the vulgar of mankind; in danger of forgetting that theſe miſhapen forms, theſe apes, theſe hypocrites, alſo are men; and that notwithſtanding all his imagined or his real excellence, all his noble feelings, the purity of his views (and who has cauſe to boaſt of theſe?) all the firmneſs, the ſoundneſs of his reaſon, the feelings of his heart, the powers with which he is endowed, ſtill he is, very probably from his own moral defects, in the eyes of his ſuperior beings, in the eyes of his much more righteous brother, as diſ[•••]ted as the moſt ridiculous, moſt depraved moral or phyſical monſter appears to be in his eyes.

Liable as we are to forget this, reminding is neceſſary both to the writer and reader of this work. Forget not, that even the wiſeſt of men are men. Forget not how much poſitive good may be found even in the worſt, and that they are as neceſſary, as good in their place as thou art. Are they not, equally indiſpenſable, equally unſuppliable? They poſſeſs not, either in mind or body, the ſmalleſt thing exactly as thou doſt. Each is wholly, and in every part, as individual as thou art. Conſider each as if he were ſingle in the univerſe; then wilt thou diſcover powers and excellencies in him, which, abſtractedly of compariſon, deſerve all attention and admiration. Compare him afterwards with others, his ſimilarity, his diſſimilarity to ſo many of his fellow-creatures. How muſt this incite thy amazement! How wilt thou value the individuality, the indiſpenſability of his being! How wilt thou wonder at the harmony of his parts, each contributing to form one whole; at their relation, the relation of his million-fold individuality, to ſuch multitudes of other individuals! Yes, we wonder at and adore the ſo ſimple, yet ſo infinitely varied expreſſion of Almighty power inconceivable, ſo eſpecially and ſo gloriouſly revealed in the nature of man.

No man ceaſes to be a man, how low ſoever he may ſink beneath the dignity of human nature. Not being beaſt, he ſtill is capable of amendment, of approaching perfection. The worſt of faces ſtill is a human face. Humanity ever continues the honour and ornament of man.

It is as impoſſible for a brute animal to become man, although he may in many actions approach, or almoſt ſurpaſs him, as for man to become a brute, although many men indulge themſelves in actions which we cannot view in brutes without abhorrence.

But the very capacity of voluntarily debaſing himſelf, in appearance even below brutality, is the honour and privilege of man. This very capacity of imitating all things by an act of his will, and the powers of his underſtanding, this very capacity man only has, beaſts have not. The countenances of beaſts are not ſuſceptible of any remarkable deterioration, nor are they capable of any remarkable amelioration or beautifying. The worſt of the countenances of men may be ſtill more debaſed; but they may alſo, to a certain degree be improved and ennobled.

The degree of perfection, or degradation, of which man is capable, cannot be deſcribed. For this reaſon, the worſt countenance has a well-founded claim to the notice, eſteem, and hope of all good men. Again, in every human countenance, however debaſed, humanity is ſtill viſible, that is, the image of the Deity.

I have ſeen the worſt of men, in their worſt of moments, yet could not all their vice, blaſphemy, and oppreſſion of guilt, extinguiſh the light of good that ſhone in their countenances, the ſpirit of humanity, the ineffaceable traits of internal, external perfectibility. The ſinner we would exterminate, the man we muſt embrace. O phyſiognomy, what a pledge are thou of the everlaſting clemency of God towards man! O man, rejoice with whatever rejoices in its exiſtence, and contemn no being whom God doth not contemn!

CHAPTER VII.

Of the Forehead.

I SHALL appropriate this and ſome of the following chapters to remarks on certain individual parts of the human body. The following are my own remarks on foreheads.

The form, height, arching, proportion, obliquity, and poſition of the ſkull, or bone of the forehead, ſhow the propenſity, degree of power, thought and ſenſibility of man. The covering or ſkin of the forehead, its poſition, colour, wrinkles, and tenſion, denote the paſſions and preſent ſtate of the mind. The bones give the internal quantity, and their covering the application of power.

Though the ſkin be wrinkled, the forehead bones remain unaltered; but this wrinkling varies according to the various forms of the bones. A certain degree of flatneſs produces certain wrinkles; a certain arching is attended by certain other wrinkles; ſo that the wrinkles, ſeparately conſidered, will give the arching; and this, vice verſa, will give the wrinkles. Certain foreheads can only have perpendicular, others horizontal, others curved, and others mixed and confuſed wrinkles. Cup-formed (ſmooth) cornerleſs foreheads, when they are in motion, commonly have the ſimpleſt and leaſt perplexed wrinkles.

I conſider the peculiar delineation of the outline and poſition of the forehead, which has been left unattempted by ancient and modern phyſiognomiſts, to be the moſt important of all the things preſented to phyſiognomical obſervation. We may divide foreheads, conſidered in profile, into three principal claſſes, the retreating, the perpendicular, and the projecting. Each of theſe claſſes has a multitude of variations, which may eaſily again be claſſed, and the chief of which are rectilinear; half round, half rectilinear, flowing into each other; half round, half rectilinear, interrupted; curve lined, ſimple; the curve lined, double and triple.

I ſhall add ſome more particular remarks, which I apprehend will not be unacceptable to my readers:

1. The longer the forehead, the more comprehenſion, and leſs activity.

2. The more compreſſed, ſhort, and firm the forehead, the more compreſſion, firmneſs, and leſs volatility in the man.

3. The more curved and cornerleſs the outline, the more tender and flexible the character; the more rectilinear, the more pertinacity and ſeverity.

4. Perfect perpendicularity, from the hair to the eye-brows, want of underſtanding.

5. Perfect perpendicularity, gently arched at the top, denotes excellent propenſities of cold, tranquil, profound thinking.

6. Projecting—imbecility, immaturity, weakneſs, ſtupididity.

7. Retreating, in general, denotes ſuperiority of imagination, wit, and acuteneſs.

8. The round and prominent forehead above, ſtraight lined below, and on the whole perpendicular, ſhows much underſtanding, life, ſenſibility, ardour, and icy coldneſs.

9. The oblique, rectilinear forehead, is alſo very ardent and vigorous.

10. Arched foreheads appear properly to be feminine.

11. A happy union of ſtraight and curved lines, with a happy poſition of the forehead, expreſs the moſt perfect character of wiſdom. By happy union, I mean, when the lines inſenſibly flow into each other; and by happy poſition, when the forehead is neither too perpendicular, nor too retreating.

12. I might almoſt eſtabliſh it as an axiom, that right lines, conſidered as ſuch, and curves, conſidered as ſuch, are related as power and weakneſs, obſtinacy and flexibility, underſtanding and ſenſation.

13. I have hitherto ſeen no man with ſharp projecting eye-bones, who had not great propenſity to an acute exerciſe of the underſtanding, and to wiſe plans.

14. Yet there are many excellent heads which have not this ſharpneſs, and which have the more ſolidity, if the forehead, like a perpendicular wall, ſink upon the horizontal eyebrows, and be greatly rounded on each ſide towards the temples.

15. Perpendicular foreheads, projecting ſo as not immediately to reſt upon the noſe, which are ſmall, wrinkly, ſhort and ſhining, are certain ſigns of weakneſs, little underſtanding, little imagination, little ſenſation.

16. Foreheads with many angular, knotty protuberances, ever denote much vigorous, firm, harſh, oppreſſive, ardent activity, and perſeverance.

17. It is a ſure ſign of a clear, ſound underſtanding, and a good temperament, when the profile of the forehead has two proportionate arches, the lower of which projects.

18. Eyebones with defined, marking, eaſily delineated, firm arches, I never ſaw but in noble and in great men. All the ideal antiques have theſe arches.

19. Square foreheads, that is to ſay, with extenſive temples and firm eyebones, ſhow circumſpection and certainty of character.

20. Perpendicular wrinkles, if natural to the forehead, denote application and power; horizontal wrinkles, and thoſe broken in the middle, or at the extremities, in general negligence, or want of power.

21. Perpendicular, deep indentings, in the bones of the forehead, between the eyebrows, I never met with but in men of ſound underſtanding, and free and noble minds, unleſs there were ſome poſitively contradictory feature.

22. A blue vena frontalis, in the form of a Y, when in an open, ſmooth, well-arched forehead, I have only found in men of extraordinary talents, and of an ardent and generous character.

23. The following are the moſt indubitable ſigns of an excellent, a perfectly beautiful and ſignificant, intelligent, and noble forehead.

An exact proportion to the other parts of the countenance. It muſt equal the noſe or the under part of the face in length, that is, one-third.

In breadth, it muſt be either oval at the top (like the foreheads of moſt of the great men of England) or nearly ſquare.

A freedom from unevenneſs and wrinkles, yet with the power of wrinkling when deep in thought, afflicted by pain, or from juſt indignation.

Above it muſt retreat, project beneath.

The eyebones muſt be ſimple, horizontal, and, if ſeen from above, muſt preſent a pure curve.

There ſhould be a ſmall cavity in the centre, from above to below, and traverſing the forehead ſo as to ſeparate into four diviſions, which can only be perceptible by a clear deſcending light.

The ſkin muſt be more clear in the forehead than in the other parts of the countenance.

The forehead muſt every where be compoſed of ſuch outlines as, if the ſection of one third only be viewed, it can ſcarcely be determined whether the lines are ſtraight or circular.

24. Short, wrinkled, knotty, regular, preſſed in one ſide, and ſawcut foreheads, with intereſting wrinkles, are incapable of durable friendſhip.

25. Be not diſcouraged ſo long as a friend, an enemy, a child, or a brother, though a tranſgreſſor, has a good, well proportioned, open forehead▪ there is ſtill much certainty of improvement, much cauſe of hope.

CHAPTER VIII.

Of the Eyes and Eyebrows.

BLUE Eyes are generally more ſignificant of weakneſs, effeminacy, and yielding, than brown and black. True it is, there are many powerful men with blue eyes; but I find more ſtrength, manhood, and thought, combined with brown than with blue. Wherefore does it happen, that the Chineſe, or the people of the Philippine Iſlands, are very ſeldom blue-eyed; and that Europeans only, or the deſcendants of Europeans, have blue eyes in thoſe countries? This is the more worthy inquiry, becauſe there are no people more effeminate, luxurious, peaceable or indolent than the Chineſe.

Choleric men have eyes of every colour, but more brown, and inclined to green, than blue. This propenſity to green is almoſt a deciſive token of ardour, fire, and courage.

I have never met with clear blue eyes in the melancholic, ſeldom in the choloric; but moſt in the phlegmatic temperament, which, however, had much activity.

When the under arch deſcribed by the upper eyelid is perfectly circular, it always denotes goodneſs and tenderneſs, but alſo fear, timidity, and weakneſs.

The open eye, not compreſſed, forming a long acute angle with the noſe, I have but ſeldom ſeen, except in acute and underſtanding perſons.

Hitherto I have ſeen no eye, where the eyelid formed a horizontal line over the pupil, that did not appertain to a very acute, able, ſubtle man; but be it underſtood, that I have met with this eye in very worthy men, but men of great penetration and ſimulation.

Wide, open eyes, with the white ſeen under the apple, I have often obſerved in the timid and phlegmatic, and alſo in the courageous and raſh. When compared, however, the fiery and the feeble, the determined and the undetermined, will eaſily be diſtinguiſhed. The former are more firm, more ſtrongly delineated, have leſs obliquity, have thicker, better cut, but leſs ſkinny eyelids.

ADDITION, From the Gotha Court Calendar, 1771, or rather from Buffon.

"The colours moſt common to the eyes are, the orange, yellow, green, blue, grey, and grey mixed with white. The blue and orange are moſt predominant, and are often found in the ſame eye. Eyes ſuppoſed to be black are only yellow, brown, or a deep orange; to convince ourſelves of which, we need but look at them cloſely; for when ſeen at a diſtance, or turned towards the light, they appear to be black; becauſe the yellow-brown colour is ſo contraſted to the white of the eye, that the oppoſition makes it ſuppoſed black. Eyes alſo of a leſs dark colour paſs for black eyes, but are not eſteemed ſo fine as the other, becauſe the contraſt is not ſo great. There are alſo yellow and light yellow eyes, which do not appear black, becauſe the colours are not deep enough to be overpowered by the ſhade.

"It is not uncommon to perceive ſhades of orange, yellow, grey, and blue, in the ſame eye; and whenever blue appears, however ſmall the tincture, it becomes the predominant colour, and appears in ſtreaks over the whole iris. The orange is in flakes, round, and at ſome little diſtance from the pupil; but it is ſo ſtrongly effaced by the blue, that the eye appears wholly blue, and the mixture of orange is only perceived when cloſely inſpected.

"The fineſt eyes are thoſe which we imagine to be black or blue. Vivacity and fire, which are the principal characteriſtics of the eyes, are the more emitted when the colours are deep and contraſted, rather than when ſlightly ſhaded. Black eyes have moſt ſtrengh of expreſſion, and moſt vivacity; but the [〈…〉] moſt mildneſs, and perhaps are more arch. In the former there is an ardour uninterruptedly bright, becauſe the colour, which appears to us uniform, every way emits ſimilar reflexions. But modifications are diſtinguiſhed in the light which animates blue eyes, becauſe there are various tints of colour, which produce various reflexions.

"There are eyes which are remarkable for having what may be ſaid to be no colour. They appear to be differently conſtituted from others. The iris has only ſome ſhades of blue, or grey, ſo feeble, that they are, in ſome parts, almoſt white; and the ſhades of orange which intervene are ſo ſmall that they ſcarcely can be diſtinguiſhed from grey or white, notwithſtanding the contraſt of theſe colours. The black of the pupil is then too marking, becauſe the colour of the iris is not deep enough, and, as I may ſay, we ſee only the pupil in the centre of the eye. Theſe eyes are unmeaning, and appear to be fixed and aghaſt.

"There are alſo eyes, the colour of the iris of which is almoſt green; but theſe are more uncommon than the blue, the grey, the yellow, and the yellow-brown. There are alſo people whoſe eyes are not both of the ſame colour.

"The images of our ſecret agitations are particularly painted in the eyes. The eye appertains more to the ſoul than any other organ; ſeems affected by, and to participate in, all its motions; expreſſes ſenſations the moſt lively, paſſions the moſt tumultuous, feelings the moſt delightful, and ſentiments the moſt delicate. It explains them in all their force, in all their purity, as they take birth; and tranſmits them by traits ſo rapid, as to infuſe into other minds the fire, the activity, the very image with which themſelves are inſpired. The eye at once receives and reflects the intelligence of thought, and the warmth of ſenſibility. It is the ſenſe of the mind, the tongue of the underſtanding."

Again, "As in nature, ſo in art, the eyes are differently formed in the ſtatues of the gods, and in heads of ideal beauty, ſo that the eye itſelf is the diſtinguiſhing token. Jupiter, Juno, and Apollo, have large, round, well arched eyes, ſhortened in length, in order that the arch may be the higher. Pallas, in like manner, has large eyes; but the upper eyelid, which is drawn up, is expreſſive of attraction and languiſhment. Such an eye diſtinguiſhes the heavenly Venus Urania from Juno; yet the ſtatue of this Venus bearing a diadem, has for that reaſon often been miſtaken, by thoſe who have not made this obſervation, for the ſtatue of Juno. Many of the modern artiſts appear to have been deſirous of excelling the ancients, and to give what Homer calls the ox-eye, by making the pupil project, and ſeem to ſtart from the ſocket. Such an eye has the modern head of the erroneouſly ſuppoſed Cleopatra, in the Medicean villa, and which preſents the idea of a perſon ſtrangled. The ſame kind of eye a young artiſt has given to the ſtatue of the Holy Virgin in the church St. Carlo al Torſo."

I ſhall quote one more paſſage from Paracelſus, who, though an aſtrological enthuſiaſt, was a man of prodigious genius:

"To come to the practical part, and give proper ſigns, with ſome of their ſignifications, it is to be remarked, that blackneſs in the eyes generally denotes health, a firm mind not wavering, but courageous, true, and honourable. Grey eyes generally denote deceit, inſtability, and indeciſion. Short ſight denotes an able projector, crafty and intriguing in action. The ſquinting, or falſeſighted, who ſee on both ſides, or over and under, certainly denotes a deceitful, crafty perſon, not eaſily deceived, miſtruſtful, and not always to be truſted; one who willingly avoids labour where he can, indulging in idleneſs, play, uſury, and pilfering. Small and deep ſunken eyes are bold in oppoſition; not diſcouraged, intriguing, and active in wickedneſs; capable of ſuffering much. Large eyes denote a covetous greedy man, and eſpecially when they are prominent. Eyes in continual motion, ſignify ſhort or weak ſight, fear and care. The winking eye denotes an amorous diſpoſition, foreſight, and quickneſs in projecting. The downcaſt eye ſhows ſhame and modeſty. Red eyes ſignify courage and ſtrength. Bright eyes, [•]low of motion, beſpeak the hero, great acts, audacious, cheerful, one feared by his enemies."

It will not be expected I ſhould ſubſcribe to all theſe opinions, they being moſt of them ill founded, at leaſt ill defined.

The Eyebrows.

Eyebrows regularly arched are characteriſtic of feminine youth; rectilinear and horizontal, are maſculine; arched and the horizontal combined, denote maſculine underſtanding, and feminine kindneſs.

Wild and perplexed, denote a correſponding mind, unleſs the hair be ſoft, and they then ſignify gentle ardour.

Compreſſed, firm, with the hairs running parallel, as if cut, are one of the moſt deciſive ſigns of a firm, manly, mature underſtanding, profound wiſdom, and a true and unerring perception.

Meeting eyebrows, held ſo beautiful by the Arabs, and by the old phyſiognomiſts ſuppoſed to be the mark of craft, I can neither believe to be beautiful, nor characteriſtic of ſuch a quality. They are found in the moſt open, honeſt, and worthy countenances. It is true, they give the face a gloomy appearance, and perhaps denote trouble of mind and heart.

Sunken eyebrows, ſays Winkelmann, impart ſomething of the ſevere and melancholy to the head of Antinous.

I never yet ſaw a profound thinker, or even a man of fortitude and prudence, with weak, high eyebrows, which in ſome meaſure equally divide the forehead.

Weak eyebrows denote phlegm and debility, though there are choloric and powerful men who have them; but this weakneſs of eyebrows is always a deduction from power and ardour.

Angular, ſtrong, interrupted eyebrows, ever denote fire and productive activity.

The nearer the eyebrows are to the eyes, the more earneſt, deep and firm the character.

The more remote from the eyes, the more volatile, eaſily moved, and leſs enterpriſing.

Remote from each other, warm, open, quick ſenſation.

White eyebrows ſignify weakneſs; and dark brown, firmneſs

The motion of the eyebrows contains numerous expreſſions, eſpecially of ignoble paſſions, pride, anger, and contempt.

CHAPTER IX.

Of the Noſe.

I HAVE generally conſidered the Noſe as the foundation o[•] abutment of the brain. Whoever is acquainted with the Gothic arch will perfectly underſtand what I mean by this abutment: for upon this the whole power of the arch of the forehead reſts, and without it the mouth and cheeks would be oppreſſed by miſerable ruins.

A beautiful noſe will never be found accompanying an ugly countenance. An ugly perſon may have fine eyes, but not a handſome noſe. I meet with thouſands of beautiful eyes before one ſuch noſe; and wherever I find the latter, it denotes an extraordinary character. The following is requiſite to the perfectly beautiful noſe:

Its length ſhould equal the length of the forehead. At the top ſhould be a gentle indenting. Viewed in front, the back ſhould be broad, and nearly parallel, yet above the centre ſomething broader. The button, or end of the noſe, muſt be neither hard nor fleſhy, and its under outline muſt be remarkably definite, well delineated, neither pointed nor very broad. The ſides ſeen in front muſt be well defined, and the deſcending noſtrils gently ſhortened. Viewed in profile, the bottom of the noſe ſhould not have more than one third of its length. The noſtrils above muſt be pointed; below, round, and have in general a gentle curve, and be divided into two equal parts, by the profile of the upper lip. The ſides, or arch of the noſe, muſt be a kind of wall. Above, it muſt cloſe well with the arch of the eyebone, and near the eye muſt be at leaſt half an inch in breadth. Such a noſe is of more worth than a kingdom. There are, indeed, innumerable excellent men with defective noſes, but their excellence is of a very different kind. I have ſeen the pureſt, moſt capable, and nobleſt perſons, with ſmall noſes, and hollow in profile; but their worth moſt conſiſted in ſuffering, liſtening, learning, and enjoying the beautiful influences of imagination; provided the other parts of the form were well organized. Noſes, on the contrary, which are arched near the forehead, are capable of command, can rule, act, overcome, deſtroy. Rectilinear noſes may be called the key-ſtone between the two extremes. They equally act and ſuffer with power and tranquillity.

Boerhaave, Socrates, Laireſſe, had, more or leſs, ugly noſes, and yet were great men; but their character was that of gentleneſs and patience.

I have never yet ſeen a noſe with a broad back, whether arched or rectilinear, that did not appertain to an extraordinary man. We may examine thouſands of countenances, and numbers of portraits, of ſuperior men, before we find ſuch a one.

Theſe noſes were poſſeſſed, more or leſs, by Raynal, Fauſt[••] Socinus, Swift, Caeſar Borgia, Clepzecker, Anthony Pagi, John Charles von Enkenberg (a man of Herculean ſtrength), Paul Sarpi, Peter de Medices, Francis Caracci, Caſſini, Lucas van Leyden, Titian.

There are alſo noſes that are not broad backed, but ſmall near the forehead, of extraordinary power; but their power is rather elaſtic and momentary than productive.

The Tartars generally have flat indented noſes; the negroes broad, and the Jews hawk noſes. The noſes of Engliſhmen are ſeldom pointed, but generally round. The Dutch, if we may judge from their portraits, ſeldom have handſome or ſignificant noſes. The noſe of the Italian is large and energetic. The great men of France, in my opinion, have the characteriſtic of their greatneſs generally in the noſe: to prove which, examine the collection of portraits by Perrault and Morin.

Small noſtrils are uſually an indubitable ſign of unenterpriſing timidity. The open, breathing noſtril, is as certain a token of ſenſibility, which may eaſily degenerate into ſenſuality.

CHAPTER X.

Of the Mouth and Lips.

THE contents of the mind are communicated to the mouth. How full of character is the mouth, whether at reſt or ſpeaking, by its infinite powers!

Whoever internally feels the worth of this member, ſo different from every other member, ſo inſeparable, ſo not to be defined, ſo ſimple, yet ſo various; whoever, I ſay, knows and feels this worth, will ſpeak and act with divine wiſdom. Oh! wherefore can I only imperfectly and tremblingly declare all the honours of the mouth—the chief ſeat of wiſdom and folly, power and debility, virtue and vice, beauty and deformity, of the human mind—the ſeat of all love, all hatred, all ſincerity, all falſehood, all humility, all pride, all diſſimulation and all truth?

Oh! with what adoration would I ſpeak, and be ſilent, were I a more perfect man! Oh! diſcordant, degraded humanity! Oh! mournful ſecret of my miſinformed youth! When, Omniſcience, ſhalt thou ſtand revealed? Unworthy as I am, yet do I adore. Yet worthy I ſhall be; worthy as the nature of man will permit: for he who created me, gave me a mouth to glorify him!

Painters and deſigners, what ſhall I ſay that may induce you to ſtudy this ſacred organ in all its beauteous expreſſions, all its harmony and proportion?

Take plaſter impreſſions of characteriſtic mouths, of the living and the dead; draw after, pore over them; learn, obſerve, continue day after day to ſtudy one only; and, having perfectly ſtudied that, you will have ſtudied many. Oh! pardon me; my heart is oppreſſed. Among ten or twenty draughtſmen, to whom for three years I have preached, whom I have inſtructed, have drawn examples for, not one have I found who felt as he ought to feel, ſaw what was to be ſeen, or could repreſent that which was evident. What can I hope?

Every thing may be expected from a collection of characteriſtic plaſter impreſſions, which might ſo eaſily be made, were ſuch a collection only once formed. But who can ſay whether ſuch obſervations might not declare too much? The human machine may be incapable of ſuffering to be thus analyſed. Man, perhaps, might not endure ſuch cloſe inſpection; and, therefore, having eyes, he ſees not.—I ſpeak it with tears; and why I weep, thou knoweſt, who with me inquireſt into the worth of man. And you, weaker, yet candid, though on this occaſion unfeeling readers, pardon me!

Obſerve the following rules: Diſtinguiſh in each mouth the upper lip ſingly; the under lip the ſame; the line formed by the union of both when tranquilly cloſed, if they can be cloſed without conſtraint; the middle of the upper lip, in particular; and of the under lip; the bottom of the middle line at each end; and, laſtly, the extending of the middle line on both ſides. For, unleſs you thus diſtinguiſh, you will not be able to delineate the mouth accurately.

As are the lips, ſo is the character. Firm lips, firm character; weak lips, and quick in motion, weak and wavering character.

Well defined, large, and proportionate lips, the middle line of which is equally ſerpentine on both ſides, and eaſy to be drawn, though they may denote an inclination to pleaſure, are never ſeen in a bad, mean, common, falſe, crouching, vicious countenance.

A lipleſs mouth, reſembling a ſingle line, denotes coldneſs, induſtry, a love of order, preciſion, houſewifery; and if it be drawn upwards at the two ends, affectation, pretenſion, vanity, and, which may ever be the production of cool vanity, malice.

Very fleſhy lips muſt ever have to contend with ſenſuality and indolence: the cut-through, ſharp-drawn lip, with anxiety and avarice.

Calm lips, well cloſed, without conſtraint, and well delineated, certainly betoken conſideration, diſcretion, and firmneſs.

A mild overhanging upper lip generally ſignifies goodneſs. There are innumerable good perſons alſo with projecting under lips: but the goodneſs of the latter is rather cold fidelity, and well-meaning, than warm active friendſhip.

The under lip, hollowed in the middle, denotes a fanciful character. Let the moment be remarked, when the conceit of the jocular man deſcends to the lip, and it will be ſeen to be a little hollow in the middle.

A cloſed mouth, not ſharpened, not affected, always denotes courage and fortitude; and the open mouth always cloſes where courage is indiſpenſible. Openneſs of mouth ſpeaks complaint; and cloſeneſs, endurance.

Though Phyſiognomiſts have as yet but little noticed, yet much might be ſaid concerning the lip improper, or the fleſhy covering of the upper teeth, on which anatomiſts have not, to my knowledge, yet beſtowed any name, and which may be called the curtain, or pallium, extending from the beginning of the noſe to the red upper lip proper.

If the upper lip improper be long, the proper is alwas ſhort; if it be ſhort and hollow, the proper will be large and curved—another certain demonſtration of the conformity of the human countenance. Hollow upper lips are much leſs common than flat and perpendicular: the character they denote is equally uncommon.

CHAPTER XI.

Of the Teeth and Chin.

NOTHING is more ſtriking, or continually viſible, than the characteriſtics of the teeth, and the manner in which they diſplay themſelves. The following are the obſervations I have made thereon:

Small, ſhort teeth, which have generally been held by the old phyſiognomiſts to denote weakneſs, I have remarked in adults of extraordinary ſtrength; but they ſeldom were of a pure white.

Long teeth are certain ſigns of weakneſs and puſillanimity. White, clean, well-arranged teeth, viſible as ſoon as the mouth opens, but not projecting, nor always entirely ſeen, I have never met with in adults, except in good, acute, honeſt, candid faithful men.

I have alſo met foul, uneven, and ugly teeth, in perſons of the above good character; but it was always either ſickneſs, or ſome mental imperfection, which gave this deformity.

Whoever leaves his teeth ſoul, and does not attempt to clean them, certainly betrays much of the negligence of his character, which does him no honour.

As are the teeth of man, that is to ſay, their form, poſition, and cleanlineſs (ſo far as the latter depends on himſelf), ſo is his taſte.

Wherever the upper gum is very viſible at the firſt opening of the lips, there generally much cold and phlegm.

Much, indeed, might be written upon the teeth, though they are generally neglected in all hiſtorical paintings. To be convinced of this, we need but obſerve the teeth of an individual during the courſe of a ſingle day, or contemplate an apartment crowded with fools. We ſhould not then, for a moment, deny that the teeth, in conjunction with the lips, are very characteriſtic; or that phyſiognomy has gained another token, which triumphs over all the arts of diſſimulation.

The Chin.

I am, from numerous experiments, convinced that the projecting chin ever denotes ſomething poſitive, and the retreating ſomething negative. The preſence or abſence of ſtrength in man is often ſignified by the chin.

I have never ſeen ſharp indentings in the middle of the chin but in men of cool underſtanding, unleſs when ſomething evidently contradictory appeared in the countenance.

The pointed chin is generally held to be a ſign of acuteneſs and craft, though I know very worthy perſons with ſuch chins. Their craft is the craft of the beſt dramatic poetry.

The ſoft, fat, double chin, generally points out the epicure; and the angular chin is ſeldom found but in diſcreet, well diſpoſed, firm men.

Flatneſs of chin ſpeaks the cold and dry; ſmallneſs, fear; and roundneſs, with a dimple, benevolence.

CHAPTER XII.

Of Sculls.

HOW much may the anatomiſt ſee in the mere ſcull of man! How much more the phyſiognomiſt! And how much the moſt the anatomiſt who is a phyſiognomiſt! I bluſh when I think how much I ought to know, and of how much I am ignorant, while writing on a part of the body of man which is ſo ſuperior to all that ſcience has yet diſcovered—to all belief, to all conception!

I conſider the ſyſtem of the bones as the great outline of man, and the ſcull as the principal part of that ſyſtem. I pay more attention to the form and arching of the ſcull, as far as I am acquainted with it, than all my predeceſſors; and I have conſidered this moſt firm, leaſt changeable, and far beſt defined part of the human body, as the foundation of the ſcience of phyſiognomy. I ſhall therefore be permitted to be particular in my obſervations on this member of the human body.

I confeſs that I ſcarcely know where to begin, where to end, what to ſay, or what to omit. I think it adviſeable to premiſe a few words concerning the generation and formation of human bones.

The whole of the human foetus is at firſt ſuppoſed to be only a ſoft mucilaginous ſubſtance, homogeneous in all its parts; and that the bones themſelves are but a kind of coagulated fluid, which afterwards becomes membraneous, then cartilaginous, and at laſt hard bone.

As this viſcous congelation, originally ſo tranſparent and tender, increaſes, it becomes thicker and more opaque, and a dark point makes its appearance different from the cartilage, and of the nature of bone, but not yet perfectly hard. This point may be called the kernel of the future bone, the centre round which the oſſification extended.

We muſt, however, conſider the coagulation attached to the cartilage as a maſs without ſhape, and only with a proper propenſity for aſſuming its future form. In its earlieſt, tendereſt ſtate, the traces of it are expreſſed upon the cartilage, though very imperfectly.

With reſpect to the bony kernels, we find differences which ſeem to determine the form of the future bones. The ſimple and ſmaller bones have each only one kernel; but, in the more groſs, thick, and angular, there are ſeveral, in different parts of the original cartilage; and it muſt be remarked, that the number of the joining bones is equivalent to the number of the kernels.

In the bones of the ſcull, the round kernel firſt is apparent, in the centre of each piece; and the oſſification extends itſelf, like radii from the centre, in filaments, which increaſe in length, thickneſs, and ſolidity, and are interwoven with each other like net-work. Hence theſe delicate, indented features of the ſcull, when its various parts are at length joined.

We have hitherto only ſpoken of the firſt ſtage of oſſification. The ſecond begins about the fourth or fifth month, when the bones, together with the reſt of the parts, are more perfectly formed, and, in the progreſs of oſſification, include the whole cartilage, according to the more or leſs life of the creature, and the original different impulſe and power of motion in the being.

Agreeable to their original formation through each ſucceeding period of age, they will continue to increaſe in thickneſs and hardneſs. But on this ſubject anatomiſts diſagree—So let them. Future phyſiognomiſts may conſider this more at large. I retreat from conteſt, and will travel in the high road of certainty, and confine myſelf to what is viſible.

Thus much is certain, that the activity of the muſcles, veſſels, and other parts which ſurround the bones, contribute much to their formation, and gradual increaſe in hardneſs.

The remains of the cartilaginous in the young bones, will, in the ſixth and ſeventh month, decreaſe in quantity, harden, and whiten, as the bony parts approach perfection. Some bones obtain a certain degree of firmneſs in much leſs time than others; as, for example, the ſcull bones, and the ſmall bones within the ear. Not only whole bones, but parts of a ſingle bone, are of various degrees of hardneſs. They will be hardeſt at the place where the kernel of oſſification began, and the parts adjacent; and the rigidity increaſes more ſlowly and inſenſibly, the harder the bones are, and the older the man is. What was cartilage will become bone; parts that were ſeparate will grow together, and the whole bones be deprived of moiſture.

Anatomiſts divide the form into the natural or the eſſential, which is generally the ſame in all bones in the human body, how different ſoever it may be to other bodies; and into the accidental, which is ſubject to various changes in the ſame individual, according to the influence of external objects, or, eſpecially, of the gradations of age.

The firſt is founded in the univerſality of the nature of parents, and the circumſtances which naturally and invariably attend propagation. Anatomiſts conſider only the deſignation of the bones individually; on this, at leaſt, is grounded the agreement of what they call the eſſential form, in diſtinct ſubjects. This, therefore, only ſpeaks to the agreement of human countenances, ſo far as they have each two eyes, one noſe, one mouth, and other features thus or thus diſpoſed.

This natural formation is certainly as different as human countenances afterwards are; which difference is the work of Nature, the original deſtination of the Lord and Creator of all things. The phyſiognomiſt diſtinguiſhes between original form and deviations.

Each bone hath its its original form, its individual capacity of form. It may, it does continually alter; but it never acquires the peculiar form of another bone, which was originally different. The accidental changes of bones, however great, or different from the original form, are yet ever governed by the nature of this original individual form; nor can any power of preſſure ever ſo change the original form, but that, if compared to another ſyſtem of bones that has ſuffered an equal preſſure, it will be perfectly diſtinct. As little as the Ethiopian can change his ſkin, or the leopard his ſpots, whatever be the changes to which they may be ſubject, as little can the original form of any bone be changed into the original form of any other bone.

Veſſels every where penetrate the bones, ſupplying them with juices and marrow. The younger the bone is, the more are there of theſe veſſels— conſequently the more porous and flexible are the bones, and the reverſe. The period when ſuch or ſuch changes take place in the bones cannot eaſily be defined; it differs according to the nature of men and accidental circumſtances.

Large and long and multiform bones, in order to facilitate their oſſification and growth, at firſt conſiſt of ſeveral pieces, the ſmaller of which are called ſupplemental. The bone remains imperfect till theſe become incorporated. Hence their poſſible diſtortion in children, by the rickets, and other diſeaſes.

CHAPTER XIII. Suggeſtions to the Phyſiognomiſt concerning the Scull.

THE ſcientific phyſiognomiſt ought to direct his attention to the diſtortion of the bones, eſpecially thoſe of the head. He ought to learn accurately to remark, compare and define the firſt form of children, and the numerous relative deviations. He ought to have attained that preciſion that ſhould enable him to ſay, at beholding the head of a new-born infant, of half a year, a year, or two years old, Such and ſuch will be the form of the ſyſtem of the bones, under ſuch and ſuch limitations; and on viewing the ſcull at ten, twelve, twenty, or twenty-four years of age, Such or ſuch was the form, eight, ten, or twenty years ago; and ſuch or ſuch will be the form, eight, ten, or twenty years hence, violence excepted. He ought to be able to ſee the youth in the boy, and the man in the youth; and, on the reverſe, the youth in the man, the boy in the youth, the infant in the boy, and, laſtly, the embryo in its proper individual form.

Let us, O ye who adore that Wiſdom which has framed all things! contemplate, a moment longer, the human ſcull. There are, in the bare ſcull of man, the ſame varieties as are to be found in the whole external form of the living man.

As the infinite varieties of the external form of man is one of the indiſtructible pillars of phyſiognomy, no leſs ſo, in my opinion, muſt the infinite varieties of the ſcull itſelf be. What I have hereafter to remark will, in part, ſhow that we ought particulary to begin by that, if, inſtead of a ſubject of curioſity or amuſement, we would wiſh to make the ſcience of phyſiognomy univerſally uſeful.

I ſhall ſhow that from the ſtructure, form, outline, and properties of the bones, not all, indeed, but much may be diſcovered, and probably more than from all the other parts.

Objection and Anſwer.

What anſwer ſhall I make to that objection, with which a certain anti-phyſiognomiſt has made himſelf ſo merry?

"In the catacombs near Rome (ſays he) a number of ſkeletons were found, which were ſuppoſed to be the relics of ſaints, and, as ſuch, were honoured. After ſome time, ſeveral learned men began to doubt whether theſe had really been the ſepulchres of the firſt chriſtians and martyrs, and even to ſuſpect that malefactors and banditti might have been buried there. The piety of the faithful was thus much puzzled; but if the ſcience of phyſiognomy be ſo certain, they might have removed all their doubts by ſending for Lavater, who with very little trouble, by merely examining and touching them, might have diſtinguiſhed the bones of the ſaints from the bones of the banditti, and thus have reſtored the true relics to their juſt and original pre-eminence."

"The conceit is whimſical enough (anſwers a cold and phlegmatic friend of phyſiognomy); but, having tired ourſelves with laughing, let us examine what would have been the conſequence had this ſtory been fact? According to our opinion, the phyſiognomiſt would have remarked great differences in a number of bones, particularly in the ſculls, which, to the ignorant, would have appeared perfectly ſimilar; and, having claſſed his heads, and ſhown their immediate gradations, and the contraſt of the two extremes, we may preſume, the attentive ſpectator would have been inclined to pay ſome reſpect to his conjectures on the qualities and activity of brain which each formerly contained.

"Beſides, when we reflect how certain it is that many malefactors have been poſſeſſed of extraordinary abilities and energy, and how uncertain it is whether many of the ſaints who are honoured with red-letter days in the calendar, ever poſſeſſed ſuch qualities, we find the queſtion ſo intricate that we ſhould be inclined to pardon the poor phyſiognomiſt were he to refuſe an anſwer, and leave the deciſion to the great infallible judge."

Further Reply.

Let us endeavour farther to inveſtigate the queſtion; for, though this anſwer is good, it is inſufficient. Who ever yet pretended abſolutely to diſtinguiſh ſaints from banditti, by inſpecting only the ſcull?

To me it appears, that juſtice requires we ſhould in all our deciſions concerning books, men, and opinions, judge each according to their pretenſions, and not aſcribe pretenſions which have not been made to any man.

I have heard of no phyſiognomiſt who has had, and I am certain that I myſelf never have had, any ſuch preſumption. Notwithſtanding which I maintain as a truth moſt demonſtrable, that, by the mere form, proportion, hardneſs, or weakneſs of the ſcull, the ſtrength or weakneſs of the general character may be known with the greateſt certainty. But, as hath been often repeated, ſtrength and weakneſs are neither virtue nor vice, ſaint nor malefactor.

Power, like riches, may be employed to the advantage or detriment of ſociety, the ſame as wealth may be in the poſſeſſion of a ſaint or a demon; and as it is with wealth, or arbitrary poſitive power, ſo is it with natural innate power. As in an hundred rich men there are ninety-nine who are not ſaints, ſo will there ſcarcely be one ſaint among an hundred men born with this power.

When, therefore, we remark in a ſcull great original and percuſſive power, we cannot indeed ſay this man was a malefactor; but we may affirm there was this exceſs of power, which, if it were not qualified and tempered during life, there is the higheſt probability it would have been agitated by the ſpirit of conqueſt, would have become a general, a conqueror, a Caeſar, a Cartouch. Under certain circumſtances he would probably have acted in a certain manner, and his actions would have varied according to the variation of circumſtances; but he would always have acted with ardour, tempeſtuouſly, always as a ruler and a conqueror.

Thus, alſo, we may affirm of certain other ſculls, which, in their whole ſtructure and form, diſcover tenderneſs, and a reſemblance to parchment, that they denote weakneſs; a mere capability of perceptive, without percuſſive, without creative power. Therefore, under certain circumſtances, ſuch perſons would have acted weakly. They would not have had the native power of withſtanding this or that temptation, of engaging in this or that enterpriſe. In the faſhionable world, they would have acted the fop, the libertine in a more confined circle, and the enthuſiaſtic ſaint in a convent.

Oh! how differently may the ſame power, the ſame ſenſibility, the ſame capacity, act, feel, and conceive, under different circumſtances! And hence we may, in part, comprehend the poſſibility of predeſtination and liberty in one and the ſame ſubject.

Take a man of the commoneſt underſtanding to a charnel-houſe, and make him attentive to the differences of ſculls; in a ſhort time he will either perceive of himſelf, or underſtand when told, here is ſtrength, there weakneſs; here obſtinacy, and there indeciſion.

If ſhown the bald head of Caeſar, as painted by Rubens or Titian, or that of Michael Angelo, what man would be dull enough not to diſcover that impulſive power, that rocky comprehenſion, by which they were peculiarly characteriſed; and that more ardour, more action muſt be expected, than from a ſmooth, round, flat head?

How characteriſtic is the ſcull of Charles XII! How different from the ſcull of his biographer Voltaire! Compare the ſcull of Judas with the ſcull of Chriſt, after Holbein, diſcarding the muſcular parts, and I doubt, if aſked which was the wicked betrayer, which the innocent betrayed, whether any ony one would heſitate.

I will acknowledge, that when two determinate heads are preſented to us, with ſuch ſtriking differences, and the one of which is known to be that of a malefactor, the other that of a ſaint, it is infinitely more eaſy to decide; but he who can diſtinguiſh between them, ſhould not therefore affirm he can diſtinguiſh the ſculls of ſaints from the ſculls of malefactors.

To conclude this chapter. Who is unacquainted with the anecdote in Herodotus, that is was poſſible, many years afterwards, on the field of battle, to diſtinguiſh the ſculls of the effeminate Medes from thoſe of the manly Perſians? I think I have heard the ſame remark made of the Swiſs and the Burgundians. This at leaſt proves it is granted that we may perceive, in the ſcull only, a difference of ſtrength and manners, as well as of nations.

CHAPTER XIV.

Of the Difference of Sculls, as they relate to Sex, and particularly to Nations.—Of the Sculls of Children.

AN eſſay on the difference of bones, as they relate to ſex, and particularly to nations, has been publiſhed by M. Fiſcher, which is well deſerving of attention. The following are ſome thoughts on the ſubject, concerning which nothing will be expected from me, but very much from M. Kamper.

Conſideration and compariſon of the external and internal make of the body, in male and female, teaches us, that the one is deſtined for labour and ſtrength, and the other for beauty and propagation. The bones particularly denote maſculine ſtrength in the former; and, ſo far as the ſtronger and the prominent are more eaſy to deſcribe than the leſs prominent and the weaker, ſo far is the male ſkeleton and the ſcull the eaſieſt to define.

The general ſtructure of the bones in the male, and of the ſcull in particular, is evidently of ſtronger formation than in the female. The body of the male increaſes, from the hip to the ſhoulder, in breadth and thickneſs; hence the broad ſhoulders and ſquare form of the ſtrong: whereas the female ſkeleton gradually grows thinner and weaker from the hip upwards, and by degrees appears as if it were rounded.

Even ſingle bones in the female are more tender, ſmooth, and round; have fewer ſharp edges, cuting and prominent corners.

We may here properly cite the remark of Santorinus, concerning the difference of ſculls, as they relate to ſex. "The aperture of the mouth, the palate, and in general the parts which form the voice, are leſs in the female; and the more ſmall and round chin, conſequently the under part of the mouth correſpond."

The round or angular form of the ſcull may be very powerfully and eſſentially turned to the advantage of the phyſiognomiſt, and becomes a ſource of innumerable individual judgments. Of this the whole work abounds with proofs and examples.

No man is perfectly like another, either in external conſtruction or internal parts, whether great or ſmall, or in the ſyſtem of the bones. I find this difference, not only between nations, but between perſons of the neareſt kindred; but not ſo great between theſe, and between perſons of the ſame nation, as between nations remote from each other, whoſe manners and food are very different. The more confidently men converſe with, the more they reſemble each other, as well in the formation of the parts of the body, as in language, manners, and food; that is, ſo far as the formation of the body can be influenced by external accidents. Thoſe nations, in a certain degree, will reſemble each other, that have commercial intercourſe, they being acted upon by the effect of climate, imitatation and habit, which have ſo great an influence in forming the body and mind; that is to ſay, the viſible and inviſible powers of man; although national character ſtill remains, and which character in reality, is much eaſier to remark than to deſcribe.

We ſhall leave more extenſive inquiries and obſervations concerning this ſubject to ſome ſuch perſon as Kamper, and refrain as becomes us; not having obtained ſufficient knowledge of the ſubject to make remarks of our own of ſufficient importance.

Differences with reſpect to ſtrength, firmneſs, ſtructure, and proportion of the parts, are certainly viſible in all the bones of the ſkeletons of different nations; but moſt in the formation of the countenance, which every where contains the peculiar expreſſion of nature, of the mind.

The ſcull of a Dutchman, for example, is in general rounder, with broader bones, curved, and arched in all its parts, and with the ſides leſs flat and compreſſed.

A Calmuc ſcull will be more rude and groſs; flat on the top, prominent at the ſides; the parts firm and compreſſed, the face broad and flat.

The ſcull of the Ethiopian is ſteep, ſuddenly elevated; as ſuddenly ſmall, ſharp, above the eyes; beneath ſtrongly projecting; circular, and high behind.

In proportion as the forehead of the Calmuc i[•] [•]at and low, that of the Ethiopean is high and narrow; while the back part of an European head has a much more protuberant arch, and ſpherical form behind, than that of a negro.

Of the Sculls of Children.

The ſcull, or head, of a child, drawn upon paper without additional circumſtance, will be generally known, and ſeldom confounded with the head of an adult. But, to keep them diſtinct, it is neceſſary the painter ſhould not be too haſty and incorrect in his obſervations of what is peculiar, or ſo frequently generalize the particular, which is the eternal error of painters, and of ſo many pretended phyſiognomiſts.

Notwithſtanding individual variety, there are certain conſtant ſigns proper to the head of a child, which as much conſiſt in the combination and form of the whole as in the ſingle parts.

It is well known that the head is larger in proportion to the reſt of the body, the younger the perſon is; and ſeems to me, from comparing the ſcull of the embryo, the child, and the man, that the part of ſcull which contains the brain is proportionably larger than the parts that compoſe the jaw and the countenance. Hence it happens that the forehead in children, eſpecially the upper part, is generally ſo prominent.

The bones of the upper and under jaw, with the teeth they contain, are later in their growth, and more ſlowly attain perfect formation. The under part of the head generally increaſes more than the upper, till it has attained full growth. Several proceſſes of the bones, as the proceſſus mamillares, which lie behind and under the ears, form themſelves after the birth; as do alſo, in a great meaſure, various hidden ſinuſſes, or cavities, in theſe bones. The quill-form of theſe bones, with their various points, ends and protuberances, and the numerous muſcles which are annexed to them, and continually in action, make the greater increaſe and change more poſſible and eaſy than can happen in the ſpherical bony covering of the brain, when once the futures are entirely become ſolid.

This unequal growth of the two principal parts of the ſcull muſt neceſſarily produce an eſſential difference in the whole, without enumerating the obtuſe extremities, the edges, ſharp corners, and ſingle protuberances, which are chiefly occaſioned by the action of the muſcles.

As the man grows, the countenance below the forehead becomes more protuberant; and as the ſides of the face, that is to ſay, the temple-bones, which are alſo ſlow in coming to perfection, continually remove farther from each other, the ſcull gradually loſes that pear form which it appears to me to have had in embryo.

The ſinus frontales firſt form themſelves after birth. The prominence at the bottom of the forehead, between the eyebrows, is likewiſe wanting in children. The forehead joins the noſe without any remarkable curve. This latter circumſtance may alſo be obſerved in ſome grown perſons, when the ſinus frontales are either wanting or very ſmall; for theſe cavities are found very different in different ſubjects.

The noſe, during growth, alters exceedingly; but I am unable to explain in what manner the bones contribute to this alteration, it being chiefly cartilaginous. Accurately to determine this, many experiments on the heads and ſculls of children, and grown perſons, would be neceſſary; or, rather, if we could compare the ſame head with itſelf at different ages, which might be done by the means of ſhades, ſuch gradation of the head or heads would be of great utility to the phyſiognomiſt.

CHAPTER XV. Deſcription of Plate III.

Number 1.

THIS outline, from a buſt of Cicero, appears to me an almoſt perfect model of congeniality. The whole has the character of penetrating acuteneſs, an extraordinary, though not a great profile. All is acute; all is ſharp: diſcerning, ſearching, leſs benevolent than ſatirical, elegant, conſpicuous, ſubtle.

Number 2.

Another congenial countenance. Too evidently nature, for it to be miſtaken for ideal, or the invention and emendation of art. Such a forehead does not betoken the rectilinear, but the noſe thus bent. Such an upper lip, ſuch an open, eloquent mouth. The forehead does not lead us to expect high poetical genius; but acute punctuality, and the ſtability of retentive memory. It is impoſſible to ſuppoſe this common countenance.

Number 3.

The forehead and noſe not congenial. The noſe ſhow[•] the very acute thinker. The lower part of the forehead, on the contrary, eſpecially the diſtance

between the eyebrow and eye, do not betoken this high degree of mental power. The ſtiff poſition of the whole is much at variance with the eye and mouth, but particularly with the noſe. The whole, the eyebrow excepted, ſpeaks a calm, peaceable, mild character.

Number 4.

The harmony of the mouth and noſe is ſelf-evident. The forehead is too good, too comprehenſive, for this very limited under part of the countenance. The whole beſpeaks a harmleſs character; nothing delicate, nor ſevere.

Number 5.

We have here a high bold forehead, with a ſhort-ſeeming blunt noſe, and a fat double chin. How do theſe harmoniſe! It is almoſt a general law of nature, that, where the eyes are ſtrong drawn, and the eyebrows near, the eyebrows muſt alſo be ſtrong. The countenance, merely by its harmony, its prominent congenial traits, is expreſſive of ſound, clear underſtanding: the countenance of reaſon.

Number 6.

The perfect countenance of a politician. Faces which are thus pointed from the eyes to the chin, always have lengthened noſes, and never poſſeſs large, open, powerful, and piercing eyes. Their firmneſs partakes of obſtinacy, and they rather follow intricate plans than the dictates of common ſenſe.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Phyſiognomiſt.

ALL men have talents for all things; yet we may venture to aſſert, that very few have the determinate and eſſential talents. All men have talents for drawing: they can all learn to write, well or ill; yet not an excellent draftſman will be produced in ten thouſand. The ſame may be affirmed of eloquence, poetry, and phyſiognomy. All men who have eyes and ears, have talents to become phyſiognomiſts; yet not one in ten thouſand can become an excellent phyſiognomiſt.

It may, therefore be of uſe to ſketch the character of the true phyſiognomiſt, that thoſe who are deficient of the requiſite talents may be detered from the ſtudy of phyſiognomy. The pretended phyſiognomiſt, with a fooliſh head and a wicked heart, is certainly one of the moſt contemptible and miſchievous creatures that crawls on the face of the earth.

No one whoſe perſon is not well formed, can become a good phyſiognomiſt. Thoſe painters were the beſt, whoſe perſons were the handſomeſt. Reubens, Vandyke, and Raphael, poſſeſſing three gradations of beauty, poſſeſſed three gradations of the genius of painting. The phyſiognomiſts of the greateſt ſymmetry are the beſt. As the moſt virtuous can the beſt determine on virtue, and the juſt on juſtice; ſo can the moſt handſome countenances on the goodneſs, beauty, and noble traits of the human countenance, and conſequently on its defects and ignoble properties. The ſcarcity of human beauty is the reaſon why phyſiognomy is ſo much decried, and finds ſo many opponents.

No perſon, therefore, ought to enter the ſanctuary of phyſiognomy, who has a debaſed mind, an ill-formed forehead, a blinking eye, or a diſtorted mouth. "The light of the body is the eye: if, therefore, thine eye be ſingle, thy whole body ſhall be full of light; but if thine eye be evil, thy whole body ſhall be full of darkneſs: if, therefore, that light that is in thee be darkneſs, how great is that darkneſs!"

Any one who would become a phyſiognomiſt, cannot meditate too much on this text. O ſingle eye! that beholdeſt all things as they are, ſeeſt nothing falſely, with glance oblique nothing overlookeſt! O moſt perfect image of reaſon and wiſdom!—Why do I ſay image? Thou art reaſon and wiſdom themſelves! Without thy reſplendent light, would all that appertains to phyſiognomy become dark!

Whoever does not, at the firſt aſpect of any man, feel a certain motion of affection or diſlike, attraction or repulſion, never can become a phyſiognomiſt.

Whoever ſtudies art more than nature, and prefers what the painters call manner to the truth of drawing; whoever does not feel himſelf moved almoſt to tears, at beholding the ancient ideal beauty, and the preſent depravity of men and imitative art; he who views antique gems, and does not diſcover enlarged intelligence in Cicero, enterpriſing reſolution in Caeſar, profound thought in Solon, invincible fortitude in Brutus, in Plato godlike wiſdom; or, in modern medals, the height of human ſagacity in Monteſquieu, in Haller the energetic contemplative look and moſt refined taſte, the deep reaſoner in Locke, and the witty ſatiriſt in Voltaire, even at the firſt glance; never can become a phyſiognomiſt.

Whoever does not dwell with fixed rapture on the aſpect of benevolence in action, ſuppoſing itſelf unobſerved; whoever remains unmoved by the voice of innocence, the guileleſs look of unviolated chaſtity, the mother contemplating her beauteous ſleeping infant, the warm preſſure of the hand of a friend, or his eye ſwimming in tears; whoever can lightly tear himſelf from ſcenes like theſe, and turn them to ridicule, might much eaſier commit the crime of parricide than become a phyſiognomiſt.

If ſuch be the caſe, what then is required of the phyſiognomiſt? What ſhould his inclination, talents, qualities, and capabilities be?

In the firſt place, as hath been in part already remarked, his firſt of requiſites ſhould be a body well proportioned, and finely organized; accuracy of ſenſation, capable of receiving the moſt minute outward impreſſions, and eaſily tranſmiting them faithfully to memory; or, as I ought rather to ſay, impreſſing them upon the imagination, and the fibres of the brain. His eye, in particular, muſt be excellent, clear, acute, rapid, and firm.

Preciſion in obſervation is the very ſoul of phyſiognomy. The phyſiognomiſt muſt poſſeſs a moſt delicate, ſwift, certain, moſt extenſive ſpirit of obſervation. To obſerve is to be attentive, ſo as to fix the mind on a particular object, which it ſelects, or may ſelect, for conſideration, from a number of ſurrounding objects. To be attentive, is to conſider ſome one particular object, excluſively of all others; and to analyze, conſequently to diſtinguiſh what is ſimilar, what diſſimilar, to diſcover proportion and diſproportion, is the office of the underſtanding.

If the phyſiognomiſt has not an accurate, ſuperior, and extended underſtanding, he will neither be able rightly to obſerve, nor to compare and claſs his obſervations, much leſs to draw the neceſſary concluſions. Phyſiognomy is the higheſt exerciſe of the underſtanding, the logic of corporeal varieties.

To the cleareſt and profoundeſt underſtanding, the true phyſiognomiſt unites the moſt lively, ſtrong, comprehenſive imagination, and a fine and rapid wit. Imagination is neceſſary to impreſs the traits with exactneſs, ſo that they may be renewed at pleaſure; and to range the pictures in the mind as perfectly as if they ſtill were viſible, and with all poſſible order.

A keen penetration is indiſpenſable to the phyſiognomiſt, that he may eaſily perceive the reſemblance that exiſts between objects. Thus, for example, he ſees a head or forehead poſſeſſed of certain characteriſtic marks: theſe marks preſent themſelves to his imagination, and a keen penetration diſcovers to what they are ſimilar. Hence greater preciſion, certainty, and expreſſion, are imparted to his images. He muſt have the capacity of uniting the approximation of each trait that he remarks, and be able to define the degree of this approximation. No one who is not inexhauſtibly copious in language, can become a phyſiognomiſt; and the higheſt poſſible copiouſneſs is poor, comparatively with the wants of phyſiognomy. All that language can expreſs, the phyſiognomiſt muſt be able to expreſs. He muſt be the creator of a new language, which muſt be equally preciſe and alluring, natural and intelligible.

Every production of art, taſte, and mind; all vocabularies of all nations, all the kingdoms of nature muſt obey his command, muſt ſupply his neceſſities.

The art of drawing is indiſpenſable, if he would be preciſe in his definitions, and accurate in his deciſions. Drawing is the firſt, moſt natural, and unequivocal language of phyſiognomy; the beſt aid of the imagination, the only means of preſerving and communicating numberleſs peculiarities, ſhades, and expreſſions, which are not by words, or any other mode, to be deſcribed. The phyſiognomiſt, who cannot draw haſtily, accurately, and characteriſtically, will be unable to make, much leſs to retain, or communicate, innumerable obſervations.

The knowledge of anatomy is indiſpenſable to him; as alſo is phyſiology, or the ſcience of the human body in health; not only that he may be able to remark any diſproportion, as well in the ſolids as in the muſcular parts, but that he may likewiſe be capable of naming theſe parts in his phyſiognomical language. He muſt alſo be acquainted with the temperament of the human body: not only its different colours and appearances, occaſioned by the mixture of the blood; but alſo the conſtituent parts of the blood itſelf, and their different proportions. Still more eſpecially muſt be underſtood the external ſymptoms of the conſtitution, relative to the nervous ſyſtem, for on this depends more than even on the knowledge of the blood.

What an extenſive knowledge ought he to have of the human heart, and the manners of the world! How thoroughly ought he to inſpect, to feel himſelf! That moſt eſſential, yet moſt difficult of all knowledge to the phyſiognomiſt, ought to be poſſeſſed by him in all poſſible perfection. In proportion only as he knows himſelf, will he be enabled to know others.

Not only is this ſelf-knowledge, this ſtudying of man by the ſtudy of his own heart, with the genealogy and conſanguinity of inclinations and paſſions, their various ſymptoms and changes, neceſſary to the phyſiognomiſt, for the foregoing cauſes, but alſo for an additional reaſon.

"The peculiar ſhades (I here cite the words of one of the critics on my firſt eſſay), the peculiar ſhades of feeling which moſt affect the obſerver [•]f any object, frequently have relation to his own mind, and will be ſooneſt remarked by him in proportion as they ſympathize with his own powers. They will affect him moſt according to the manner in which he is accuſtomed to ſurvey the phyſical and moral world. Many, therefore, of his obſervations are applicable only to the obſerver himſelf; and, however ſtrongly they may be conceived by him, he cannot eaſily impart them to others. Yet theſe minute obſervations influence his judgment. For this reaſon, the phyſiognomiſt muſt, if he knows himſelf, which he in juſtice ought to do before he attempts to know others, once more compare his remarks with his own peculiar mode of thinking, and ſeparate thoſe which are general from thoſe which are individual and appertain to himſelf." I ſhall make no commentary on this important precept. I ſhall here only repeat, that an accurate and profound knowledge of his own heart, is one of the moſt eſſential qualities in the character of the phyſiognomiſt.

Reader, if thou haſt not often bluſhed at thyſelf, even though thou ſhouldeſt be the beſt of men, for the beſt of men is but man; if thou haſt not often ſtood with downcaſt eyes, in preſence of thyſelf and others; if thou haſt not da[•]ed to confeſs to thyſelf, and to confide to thy friend, that thou art conſcious the ſeeds of every vice are latent in thy heart; if, in the gloomy calm of ſolitude, having no witneſs but God and thy own conſcience, thou haſt not a thouſand times ſighed and ſorrowed for thyſelf; if thou wanteſt the power to obſerve the progreſs of the paſſions from their very commencement, to examine what the impulſe was which determined thee to good or ill, and to avow the motive to God and thy friend, to whom thou mayeſt thus confeſs thyſelf, and who alſo may diſcloſe the receſſes of his ſoul to thee; a friend who ſhall ſtand before thee the repreſentative of man and God, and in whoſe eſtimation thou alſo ſhalt be inveſted with the ſame ſacred character; a friend, in whom thou mayeſt ſee thy very ſoul, and who ſhall reciprocally behold himſelf in thee: if, in a word, thou art not a man of worth, thou never canſt learn to obſerve or know men well; thou never canſt be, never wilt be, worthy of being a good phyſiognomiſt. If thou wiſheſt not that the talent of obſervation ſhould be a torment to thyſelf, and an evil to thy brother, how good, how pure, how affectionate, how expanded ought thy heart to be! How mayeſt thou ever diſcover the marks of benevolence and mild forgiveneſs, if thou thyſelf art deſtitute of ſuch gifts? How, if philanthropy does not make thine eye active, how mayeſt thou diſcern the impreſſions of virtue, and the marks of the ſublimeſt ſenſations? How often wilt thou overlook them in a countenance disfigured by accident! Surrounded thyſelf by mean paſſions, how often will ſuch falſe obſervers bring falſe intelligence! Put far from thee ſelf-intereſt, pride and envy, otherwiſe thine eye will be evil, and thy whole body full of darkneſs. Thou wilt read vices on the forehead whereon virtue is written, and wilt accuſe others of thoſe errors and failings of which thine own heart accuſes thee. Whoever bears any reſemblance to thine enemy, will by thee be accuſed of all thoſe failings and vices with which thy enemy is loaded by thy own partiality and ſelf-love. Thine eye will overlook the beauteous traits, and magnify the diſcordant. Thou wilt behold nothing but caricature and diſproportion.

But, to draw to a concluſion, the phyſiognomiſt ſhould know the world; he ſhould have intercourſe with all manner of men, in all various ranks and conditions; he ſhould have travelled, ſhould poſſeſs extenſive knowledge, a thorough acquaintance with artiſts, mankind, vice, and virtue, the wiſe and the fooliſh, and particularly with children; together with a love of literature, and a taſte for painting, and the other imitative arts. I ſay, can it need demonſtration, that all thoſe, and much more, are to him indiſpenſable? To ſum up the whole: to a well formed, well organized body, the perfect phyſiognomiſt muſt unite an acute ſpirit of obſervation, a lively fancy, an excellent judgment, and, with numerous propenſities to the arts and ſciences, a ſtrong, benevolent, enthuſiaſtic, innocent heart; a heart confident in itſelf, and free from the paſſions inimical to man. No one, certainly, can read the traits of magnanimity, and the high qualities of the mind, who is not himſelf capable of magnanimity, honourable thoughts, and ſublime actions.

I have pronounced judgment againſt myſelf in writing theſe characteriſtics of the phyſiognomiſt. Not falſe modeſty, but conſcious feeling, impels me to ſay, that I am as diſtant from the true phyſiognomiſt as heaven is from earth. I am but the fragment of a phyſiognomiſt, as this work is but the fragment of a ſyſtem of phyſiognomy.

CHAPTER XVII.

Lavater's own Remarks on National Phyſiognomy.

IT is undeniable, that there is national phyſiognomy, as well as national character. Whoever doubts of this can never have obſerved men of different nations, nor have compared the inhabitants of the extreme confines of any two. Compare a Negro and an Engliſhman, a native of Lapland and an Italian, a Frenchman and an inhabitant of Terra del Fuego. Examine their forms, countenances, characters, and minds. Their difference will be eaſily ſeen, though it will ſometimes be very difficult to deſcribe it ſcientifically.

It ſeems to me probable, that we ſhall diſcover what is national in the countenance, better from the ſight of an individal at firſt, than of a whole people; at leaſt ſo it appears to me, from my own experience. Individual countenances diſcover more the characteriſtic of a whole nation, than a whole nation does that which is national in individuals. The following, infinitely little, is what I have hitherto obſerved from the foreigners with whom I have converſed, and whom I have noticed, concerning national character.

The French I am leaſt able to characteriſe. They have no traits ſo bold as the Engliſh, nor ſo minute as the Germans. I know them chiefly by their teeth and their laugh. The Italians I diſcover by the noſe, ſmall eyes, and projecting chin. The Engliſh by their foreheads and eyebrows. The Dutch by the rotundity of the head, and the weakneſs of the hair. The Germans by the angles and wrinkles round the eyes and in the cheeks. The Ruſſians by the ſnub noſe, and their light-coloured or black hair.

I ſhall now ſay a word concerning Engliſhmen in particular. Engliſhmen have the ſhorteſt and beſt arched foreheads; that is to ſay, they are arched only upwards, and, towards the eyebrows, either gently decline, or are rectilinear. They very ſeldom have pointed, but often round, full, medullary noſes; the Quakers and Moravians excepted, who, wherever they are found, are generally thin lipped. Engliſhmen have large, well defined, beautifully curved lips. They have alſo a round full chin; but they are peculiarly diſtinguiſhed by the eyebrows and eyes, which are ſtrong, open, liberal, and ſtedfaſt. The outline of their countenance is, in general, great; and they never have thoſe numerous, infinitely minute traits, angles, and wrinkles, by which the Germans are ſo eſpecially diſtinguiſhed. Their complexion is fairer than that of the Germans.

All Engliſh women whom I have known perſonally or by portrait, appear to be compoſed of marrow and nerve. They are inclined to be tall, ſlender, ſoft, and as diſtant from all that is harſh, rigorous, or ſtubborn, as heaven is from earth.

The Swiſs have generally no common phyſiognomy or national character, the aſpect of fidelity excepted. They are as different from each other as nations the moſt remote. The French Swiſs peaſant is as diſtinct as poſſible from the peaſant of Appenzel. It may be that the eye of a foreigner would better diſcover the general character of the nation, and in what it differs from the French or German than that of a native.

In each canton of Switzerland I find characteriſtic varieties. The inhabitants of Zurich, for inſtance, are middle ſized, more frequently meagre than corpulent, but uſually one or the other. They ſeldom have ardent eyes, and the outline is not often grand or minute. The men are ſeldom handſome, though the youth are incomparably ſo; but they ſoon alter. The people of Bern are tall, ſtraight, fair, pliable, and firm, and are moſt diſtinguiſhed by their upper teeth, which are white, regular, and eaſily to be ſeen. The inhabitants of Baſle (or Baſil) are more round, full, and tenſe of countenance, the complexion tinged with yellow, and the lips open and flaccid. Thoſe of Schafhauſen are hard boned. Their eyes are ſeldom ſunken, but generally prominent. The ſides of the forehead diverge over the temples, the cheeks fleſhy, and the mouth wide and open. They are commonly ſtronger built than the people of Zurich, though in the canton of Zurich there is ſcarcely a village in which the inhabitants do not differ from thoſe of the neighbouring village, without attending to dreſs, which, notwithſtanding, is alſo phyſiognomical.

Round Wadenſchweil and Oberreid I have ſeen many handſome, broad-ſhouldered, ſtrong, burden bearing men. At Weiningen, two leagues from Zurich, I met a company of well-formed men, who were diſtinguiſhable for their cleanlineſs, circumſpection, and gravity of deportment.

An extremely intereſting and inſtructive book might be written on the phyſiognomical character of the peaſants of Switzerland. There are conſiderable diſtricts where the countenances, the noſe not excepted, are moſt of them broad, as if preſſed flat with a board. This diſagreeable form, wherever found, is conſiſtent with the character of the people. What could be more inſtructive than a phyſiognomical and characteriſtic deſcription of ſuch villages, their mode of living, food, and occupation?

CHAPTER XVIII.

Extracts from Buffon on National Phyſiognomy.

TRAVERSING the ſurface of the earth, and beginning in the north, we find, in Lapland, and on the northern coaſt of Tartary, a race of men ſmall of ſtature, ſingular of form, and with countenances as ſavage as their manners.

Theſe people have large flat faces, the noſe broad, the pupil of the eye of a yellow brown inclining to a black, the eyelids retiring towards the temples, the cheeks extremely high, the mouth very large, the lower part of the face narrow, the lips full and high, the voice ſhrill, the head large, the hair black and ſleek, and the complexion brown or tanned. They are very ſmall, and ſquat, though meagre. Moſt of them are not above four feet, and hardly any exceed four feet and an half. The Borandians are ſtill ſmaller than the Laplanders. The Samoiedes more ſquat, with large heads and noſes, and darker complexions. Their legs are ſhorter, their knees more turned outwards; their hair is longer, and they have leſs beard. The complexion of the Greenlanders is darker ſtill, and of a deep olive colour.

The women, among all theſe nations, are as ugly as the men; and not only do theſe people reſemble each other in uglineſs, ſize, and the colour of their eyes and hair, but they have ſimilar inclinations and manners, and are all equally groſs, ſuperſtitious, and ſtupid. Moſt of them are idolaters; they are more rude than ſavage, wanting courage, ſelf-reſpect, and modeſty.

If we examine the neighbouring people of the long ſlip of land which the Laplanders inhabit, we ſhall find they have no relation whatever with that race, excepting that of the Oſtiacks and Tonguſians. The Samoiedes and the Borandians have no reſemblance with the Ruſſians, nor have the Laplanders with the Finlanders, the Goths, Danes, or Norwegians. The Greenlanders are alike different from the ſavages of Canada. The latter are tall and well made; and though they differ very much from each other, yet they are ſtill more infinitely different from the Laplanders. The Oſtiacks ſeem to be Samoiedes, ſomething leſs ugly, and dwarfiſh, for they are ſmall and ill formed.

All the Tartars have the upper part of the countenance very large and wrinkled, even in youth; the noſe ſhort and groſs, the eyes ſmall and ſunken, the cheeks very high, the lower part of the face narrow, the chin long and prominent, the upper jaw ſunken, the teeth long and ſeparated, the eyebrows large, covering the eyes, the eyelids thick, the face flat, their ſkin of an olive colour, and their hair black. They are of a middle ſtature, but very ſtrong and robuſt; have little beard, which grows in ſmall tufts, like that of the Chineſe; thick thighs, and ſhort legs.

The Little or Nogais Tartars have loſt a part of their uglineſs, by having intermingled with the Circaſſians, As we proceed eaſtward, into free or independent Tartary, the features of the Tartars become ſomething leſs hard, but the eſſential characteriſtics of their race ever remain. The Mogul Tartars, who conquered China, and who were the moſt poliſhed of theſe nations, are, at preſent, the leaſt ugly and ill made; yet have they, like the others, ſmall eyes, the face large and flat, little beard, but always black or red, and the noſe ſhort and compreſſed.

Among the Kergiſi and Tcheremiſi Tartars there is a whole nation, or tribe, among whom are very ſingularly beautiful men and women. The manners of the Chineſe and Tartars are wholly oppoſite, more ſo than are their countenances and forms. The limbs of the Chineſe are well proportioned, large, and fat. Their faces are round and capacious, their eyes ſmall, their eyebrows large, their eyelids raiſed, and their noſes little and compreſſed. They only have ſeven or eight tufts of black hair on each lip, and very little on the chin.

The natives of the coaſt of New Holland, which lies in ſixteen degrees fifteen minutes of ſouth latitude, and to the ſouth of the iſle of Timor, are perhaps the moſt miſerable people on earth, and of all the human race moſt approach the brute animal. They are tall, upright and ſlender. Their limbs are long and ſupple, their heads great, their forehead round, their eyebrows thick, and their eyelids half ſhut. This they acquire by habit in their infancy, to preſerve their eyes from the gnats, by which they are greatly incommoded; and as they never much open their eyes, they cannot ſee at a diſtance, at leaſt not unleſs they raiſe the head as if they wiſhed to look at ſomething above them. They have large noſes, thick lips, and wide mouths. It ſhould ſeem that they draw the two upper fore teeth, for neither man nor woman, young nor old, have theſe teeth. They have no beard; their faces are long, and very diſagreeable, without a ſingle pleaſing feature; their hair not long and ſleek, like that of moſt of the Indians, but ſhort, black, and curly, like the hair of the Negroes. Their ſkin is black, and reſembles that of the Indians of the coaſt of Guinea.

If we now examine the nations inhabiting a more temperate climate, we ſhall find, that the people of the northern provinces, of the Mogul empire, Perſia, the Armenians, Turks, Georgians, Mingrelians, Circaſſians, Greeks, and all the inhabitants of Europe, are the handſomeſt, wiſeſt, and beſt formed of any on earth; and that, though the diſtance between the Cachemire and Spain, or Circaſſia and France, is very great, there is ſtill a very ſingular reſemblance between people ſo far from each other, but ſituated in nearly the ſame latitude. The people of Cachemire are renowned for beauty, are as well formed as the Europeans, and have nothing of the Tartar countenance, the flat noſe, and the ſmall pig's eyes, which are ſo univerſal among their neighbours.

The complexion of the Georgians is ſtill more beautiful than that of Cachemire; no ugly face is found in the country, and nature has endowed moſt of the women with graces which are no where elſe to be diſcovered. The men alſo are very handſome, have natural underſtanding, and would be capable of arts and ſciences, did not their bad education render them exceedingly ignorant and vicious▪ yet, with all their vices, the Georgians are civil, humane, grave, and moderate▪ they ſeldom are under the influence of anger, though they become irreconcil[•]able enemies having once entertained hatred.

The Circaſſians and Mingrelians are equally beautiful and well formed. The lame and the crooked are ſeldom ſeen among the Turks. The Spaniards are meagre, and rather ſmall; they are well ſhaped, have fine heads, regular features, good eyes, and well arranged teeth; but their complexions are dark, and inclined to yellow. It has been remarked, that in ſome provinces of Spain as near the banks of the river Bidaſſoa, the people have exceedingly large ears.

M. Lavater here m[•••]s this digreſſion. Can large ears hear better than ſmall? I know one perſon with large, rude ears, whoſe ſenſe of hearing is acute, and who has a good underſtanding; but, him excepted, I have particularly remarked large ears to betoken folly; and that, on the contrary ears inordinately ſmall appertain to very weak, effeminate characters, or perſons of too great ſenſibility.—Thus far Lavater: let us now return to Buffon.

Men with black or dark-brown hair begin to be rather uncommon in England, Flanders, Holland, and the northern provinces of Germany; and few ſuch are to be found in Denmark, Sweden, and Poland. According to Linnaeus, the Goths are very tall, have ſleek, light-coloured, ſilver hair, and blue eyes. The Finlanders are muſcular and fleſhy, with long and light yellow hair, the iris of the eye a deep yellow.

If we collect the accounts of travellers, it will appear, that there are as many varieties among the race of Negroes as the Whites. They alſo have their Tartars and their Circaſſians. The Blacks on the coaſt of Guinea are extremely ugly, and emit an inſufferable ſcent. Thoſe of Sofa[•]a and Mozambique are hanſome, and have no ill ſmell. Theſe two ſpecies of Negroes reſemble each other rather in colour than features. Their hair, ſkin, the odour of their bodies, their manners and propenſities, are exceedingly different. Thoſe of Cape de Verd have by no means ſo diſagreeable a ſmell as the natives of Angola. Their ſkin alſo is more ſmooth and black, their body better made, their features leſs hard, their tempers more mild, and their ſhape better.

The Negroes of Senegal are the beſt formed, and beſt receive inſtruction. The Nagos are the moſt humane, the Mondongos the moſt cruel, the Mimes the moſt reſolute, capricious, and ſubject to deſpair.

The Guinea Negroes are extremely limited in their capacities. Many of them appear to be wholly ſtupid; or, never capable of counting more than three, [•]emain in a thoughtleſs ſtate if not acted upon, and have no memory; yet, bounded as is their underſtanding, they have much feeling, have good hearts, and the ſeeds of all virtue.

The Hottentots have all very flat and broad noſes; but theſe they would not have, did not their mothers ſuppoſe it their duty to flatten the noſe ſhortly after birth. They have alſo very thick [〈◊〉], eſpecially the upper; the teeth white, the eyebrows thick, the head heavy, the body meagre, and the limbs ſlender.

The inhabitants of Canada, and all theſe confines, are rather tall, robuſt, ſtrong, and tolerably well made; have black hair and eyes, very white teeth, tawny complexions, [•]ittle beard, and no hair, or almoſt none, o[•] any other part of the body. They are hardy and indefatigable in marching, ſwift of foot, alike ſupport the extremes of hunger, or exceſs in feeding; are daring, courageous, haughty, grave and moderate. So ſtrongly do they reſemble the eaſtern Tartars in complexion, hair, eyes, the almoſt want of beard, and hair, as well as in their inclinations and manners, that we ſhould ſuppoſe them the deſcendants of that nation, did we not ſee the two people ſeparated from each other by a vaſt ocean. They alſo are under the ſame latitude, which is an additional proof of the influence of climate on the colour, and even on the form of man.

CHAPTER XIX.

Some of the moſt remarkable Paſſages from an excellent Eſſay on National Phyſiognomy, by Profeſſor Kant of Konigſberg.

THE ſuppoſition of Maupertuis, that a race of men might be eſtabliſhed in any province, in whom underſtanding, probity, and ſtrength, ſhould be hereditary, could only be realized by the poſſibility of ſeparating the degenerate from the conformable births; a project which, in my opinion, might be practicable, but which, in the preſent order of things, is prevented by the wiſer diſpoſitions of nature, according to which the wicked and the good are intermingled, that by the irregularities and vices of the former, the latent powers of the latter may be put in motion, and impelled to approach perfection. If nature, without tranſplantation or foreign mixture, be left undiſturbed, ſhe will after many generations, produce a laſting race that ſhall ever remain diſtinct.

If we divide the human race into four principal claſſes it is probable that the intermediate ones, however perpetuating and conſpicuous, may be immediately reduced to one of theſe. 1. The race of Whites. 2. The Negroes. 3. The Huns, (Monguls, or Calmucs). 4. The Hindoos or people of Hindoſtan.

External things may well be the accidental, but not the primary cauſes of what is inherited or aſſimilated. As little as chance, or phyſico-mechanical cauſes, can produce an organized body, as little can they add any thing to its power of propagation; that is to ſay, produce a thing which ſhall propagate itſelf by having a peculiar form or proportion of parts.

Man was undoubtedly intended to [•]e the inhabitant of all climates, and all ſoils. Hence the feeds of many internal propenſities muſt be latent in him, which ſhall remain inactive, or be put in motion, according to his ſituation on the earth. So that, in progreſſive generations, he ſhall appear as if born for that particular ſoil in which he ſeems planted.

The air and the ſun appear to be the cauſes which moſt influence the powers of propagation, and effect a durable developement of germ and propenſities; that is to ſay, the air and the ſun may be the origin of a diſtinct race. The variations which food may produce, muſt ſoon diſappear on tranſplantation. That which affects the propagating powers, muſt not act upon the ſupport of life, but upon its original ſource, its firſt principle, animal conformation, and motion.

A man tranſplanted to the frigid zone muſt decreaſe in ſtature, ſince, if the power or momentum of the heart continues the ſame, the circulation tion muſt be performed in a ſhorter time, the pulſe become more rapid, and the heat of the blood increaſed. Thus Crantz found the Greenlanders not only inferior in ſtature to the Europeans, but alſo that they had a remarkably greater heat of body. The very diſproportion between the length of the body and the ſhortneſs of the legs, in the northern people, is ſuitable to their climate; ſince the extremes of the body, by their diſtance from the heart, are more ſubject to the attacks of cold.

The prominent parts of the countenance, which can leſs be guarded from cold, by the care of nature for their preſervation, have a propenſity to become more ſlat. The riſing cheek-bone, the half-cloſed, blinking eyes, appear to be intended for the preſervation of [••]ght againſt the dry, cold air, and the effuſions of light from the ſnow (to guard againſt which the Eſquimaux ſnow-ſpectacles), though they may be the natural effect of the climate, ſince they are found only in a ſmaller degree in milder latitudes. Thus gradually are produced the beardleſs chin, the flatted noſe, thin lips, blinking eyes, flat countenances, red-brown complexion, black hair, and, in a word, the face of the Calmuc. Such properties, by continued propagation, at length form a diſtant race, which continues to remain diſtinct, even when tranſplanted into warmer climates.

The red-brown or copper colour appears to be as natural an effect of the acidity of the air in cold climates, as the olive-brown of the alcaline and bilious quality of the juices in warm; without taking the native diſpoſition of the American into the eſtimate, who appears to have loſt half the powers of life which may be regarded as the effect of cold.

The growth of the porous parts of the body muſt increaſe in the hot and moiſt climates. Hence the thick ſhort noſe and projecting lips. The ſkin muſt be oiled, not only to prevent exceſſive perſpiration, but alſo the imbibing the putreſcent particles of the moiſt air. The ſurplus of the ferruginous or iron particles, which have lately been diſcovered to exiſt in the blood of man, and which, by the evaporation of the phoſphoric acidities, of which all Negroes ſmell ſo ſtrong, being caſt upon the retiform membrane, occaſions the blackneſs which appears through the cuticle; and this ſtrong retention of the ferruginous particles ſeems to be neceſſary, in order to prevent the general relaxation of the parts. Moiſt warmth is peculiarly favourable to the growth of animals, and produces the Negro, who, by the providence of nature, perfectly adapted to his climate, is ſtrong, muſcular, agile; but dirty, indolent, and trifling.

The trunk, or ſtem of the root may degenerate; but this having once taken root, and ſtifled other germs, reſiſts any future change of form, the character of the race having once gained a preponderance in the propagating powers.

CHAPTER XX.

Extracts from other Writers on National Phyſiognomy.—From Winkelmann's Hiſtory of Art.—From the Recherches Philoſophiques ſur les Americains, by M. de Pauw.—Obſervations by Lintz.—From a Letter written by M. Fueſsli.—From a Letter written by Profeſſor Camper.

From Winkelmann's Hiſtory of Art.

OUR eyes convince us, with reſpect to the form of man, that the character of nation, as well as of mind, is viſible in the countenance. As nature has ſeparated large diſtricts by mountains and waters, ſo likewiſe has ſhe diſtinguiſhed the inhabitants by peculiarity of features. In countries far diſtant from each other, the difference is likewiſe viſible in other parts of the body, and in ſtature. Animals are not mere varied, according to the properties of the countries they inhabit, than men are; and ſome have pretended to remark, that animals even partake o[•] the propenſities of the men.

The formation of the countenance is as various as languages, nay, indeed, as dialects, which are thus or thus various in conſequence of the organs of ſpeech. In cold countries, the fibres of the tongue muſt be leſs flexible and rapid than in warm. The natives of Greenland, and certain tribes of America, are obſerved to want ſome letters of the alphabet, which muſt originate in the ſame cauſe. Hence it happens, that the northern languages have more monoſyllables, and are more clogged with conſonants, the connecting and pronouncing of which is difficult, and ſometimes impoſſible, to other nations.

A celebrated writer has endeavoured to account for the varieties of the Italian dialects, from the formation of the organs of ſpeech. "For this reaſon (ſays he) the people of Lombardy, inhabiting a cold country, have a more rough and conciſe pronunciation. The inhabitants of Florence and Rome ſpeak in a more meaſured tone; and the Neapolitans, under ſtill warmer ſky, pronounce the vowels more open, and ſpeak with more fulneſs."

Perſons well acquainted with various nations, can diſtinguiſh them as juſtly from the form of their countenance, as from their ſpeech. Therefore, ſince man has ever been the object of art and artiſts, the latter have conſtantly given the forms of face of their rep[•]ctive nations; and that art, among the ancients, gave the form and countenance of man, is proved by the ſame effect having taken place among the moderns. German, Dutch, or French, when the artiſts neither travel nor ſtudy foreign forms, can be known by their pictures as perfectly as Chineſe or Tartars. After reſiding many years in Italy, Rubens continued to draw his figures as if he had never l[••]t his native land.

Another Paſſage from Winkelmann.

The projecting mouths of the Negroes, which they have in common with their monkies, is an exceſs of growth, a ſwelling, occaſioned by the heat of the climate; like as our lips are ſwelled by heat or ſharp ſaline moiſture, and alſo, in ſome men, by violent paſſion. The ſmall eyes of the diſtant northern and eaſtern nations are in conſequence of the imperfection of their growth. They are ſhort and ſlender. Nature produces ſuch forms the more ſhe approaches extremes, where ſhe has to encounter heat or cold. In the one ſhe is prompter and exhauſted, and in the other crude, never arriving at maturity. The flower withers in exceſſive heat, and, deprived of ſun, is deprived of colour. All plants degenerate in dark and confined places.

Nature forms with greater regularity the more ſhe approaches her center, and in more moderate climates. Hence the Grecian and our own idea of beauty, being derived from more perfect ſymmetry, muſt be more accurate than the idea of thoſe, in whom to uſe the expreſſion of a modern poet, the image of the Creator is half defaced.

From the Recherches Philoſophiques ſur les Americaines, by M. de Pa[•]w.

The Americans are moſt remarkable, becauſe that many of them have no eyebrows, and none have beards; yet we muſt not infer that they are enfeebled in the organs of generation, ſince the Tartars and Chineſe have almoſt the ſame characteriſtics. They are far, however, from being very fruitful, or much addicted to love. True it is, the Chineſe and Tartars are not abſolutely beardleſs. When they are about thirty, a ſmall penciled kind of whiſker grows on the upper lip, and ſome ſcattered hairs at the end of the chin.

Excluſive of the Eſquimaux, who differ in gait, fo[•]m, features, and manners, from other ſavages of North-America, we may likewiſe call the Akanſans a variety, whom the French have generally named the handſome men. They are tall and ſtraight, have good features, without the leaſt appearance of beard, have regular eyelids, blue eyes, and fine fair hair; while the neighbouring people are low of ſtature, have abject countenances, black eyes, the hair of the head black as ebony, and of the body thick and rough.

Though the Peruvians are not very tall, and generally thick ſet, yet they are tolerably well made. There are many, it is true, who, by being diminutive, are monſtrous. Some are deaf, dumb, blind, and idiots; and others want a limb when born. In all probability, the exceſſive labour to which they have been ſubjected by the barbarity of the Spaniards, has produced ſuch numbers of defective men. Tyranny has an influence on the very phyſical temperament of ſlaves. Their noſe is aquiline, their forehead narrow, their hair black, ſtrong, ſmooth, and plentiful; their complexion an olive red, the apple of the eye black, and the white not very clear. They never have any beard, for we cannot beſtow that name on ſome ſhort ſtraggling hairs which ſprout in old age; nor have either men or women the downy hair which generally appears after the age of puberty. In this they are diſtinguiſhed from all people on earth, even from the Tartars and Chineſe. As in eunuchs, it is the character of their degeneracy.

Judging by the rage which the Americans have to mutilate and disfigure themſelves, we ſhould ſuppoſe they were all diſcontented with the proportions of their limbs and bodies. Not a ſingle nation has been diſcovered in this fourth quarter of the globe, which has not adopted the cuſtom of artificially changing, either the form of the lips, the hollow of the ear, or the ſhape of the head, by forcing it to aſſume an extraordinary and ridiculous figure.

There are ſavages whoſe heads are pyramidal, or conical, with the top terminating in a point. Others have flat heads, with large foreheads, and the back part flattened. This caprice ſeems to have been the moſt faſhionable, at leaſt it was the moſt common. Some Canadians had their heads perfectly ſpherical. Though the natural form of the head really approaches the circular, theſe ſavages, who, by being thus diſtorted, acquired the appellation of bowl or bullet-head, do not appear leſs diſguſting, for having made the head too round, and perverted the original purpoſe of nature, to which nothing can be added, from which nothing can be taken away, without ſome eſſential error being the reſult, which is deſtructive to the animal.

In fine, we have ſeen, on the banks of the Maragnon, Americans with ſquare or cubical heads; that is to ſay, flattened on the face, the top, the temples, and the occiput, which appears to be the laſt ſtage of human extravagance.

It is not eaſy to conceive how it was poſſible to compreſs and mould the bones of the ſcull into ſo many various forms, without moſt eſſentially injuring the ſeat of ſenſe, and the organs of reaſon, or occaſioning either madneſs or idiotiſm, ſince we ſo often have examples, that violent contuſions in the region of the temples have occaſioned lunacy, and deprived the ſufferers of intellectual capacity. For it is not true, as ancient narratives have affirmed, that all Indians with flat or ſugar-loaf heads were really idiots. Had this been the caſe, there muſt have been whole nations in America either fooliſh or frantic, which is impoſſible even in ſuppoſition.

Obſervation by Lintz.

To me it appears very remarkable, that the Jews ſhould have taken w[••]h them the marks of their country and race to all parts of the world; I mean their ſhort, black, curly hair, and brown complexion. Their quickneſs of ſpeech, haſte and abruptneſs in all their actions, appear to proceed from the ſame cauſes. I imagine the Jews have more gall than other men.

Extract from a Letter written by M. Fueſsli, dated at Preſburg.

My obſervations have been directed (ſays this great deſigner and phyſiognomiſt) not to the countenance of nations only; being convinced, from numberleſs experiments, that the general form of the human body, its attitude and manner, the ſunken or raiſed poſition of the head between or above the ſhoulders, the firm, the tottering, the haſty, or ſlow walk, may frequently be leſs deceitful ſigns of this or that character, than the countenance ſeparately conſidered. I believe it poſſible ſo accurately to characterize man, from the calmeſt ſtate of reſt, to the higheſt gradation of rage, terror, and pain, that, from the carriage of the body, the turn of the head, and geſtures in general, we ſhall be able to diſtinguiſh the Hungarian, the Sclavonian, the Illyrian, the Wallachian; and to obtain a full and clear conception of the actual, and in general, the prominent characteriſtics of this or that nation.

Extract of a Letter from Profeſſor Camper.

It would be very difficult, if not impoſſible, to give you my particular rules for delineating various nations and ages with mathematical certainty, eſpecially if I would add all that I have had occaſion to remark concerning the beauty of the antiques. Theſe rules I have obtained by conſtant obſervations on the ſculls of different nations, of which I have a large collection, and by a long ſtudy of the antiques.

To draw any head accurately in profile, takes me much time. I have diſſected the ſculls of people lately dead, that I might be able to define the lines of the countenance, and the angle of theſe lines with the horizon. I was thus led to the diſcovery of the maximum and minimum of this angle. I began with the monkey, proceeded to the Negro and the European, till I aſcended to the countenances of antiquity, and examined a Meduſa, an Apollo, or a Venus de Medicis. This concerns only the profile. There is another difference, in the breadth of the cheeks, which I have found to be largeſt among the Calmucs, and much ſmaller among the Aſiatic Negroes. The Chineſe, and inhabitants of the Molucca and other Aſiatic iſlands, appear to me to have broad cheeks, with projecting jaw-bones; the under jaw-bone, in particular, very high, and almoſt forming a right angle, which, among Europeans, is very obtuſe, and ſtill more ſo among the African Negroes.

I have not hitherto been able to procure a real ſcull of an American, and therefore can ſay nothing on that ſubject.

I am almoſt aſhamed to confeſs that I have not yet been able accurately to draw the countenance of a Jew, although they are ſo very remarkable in their features; nor have I yet obtained preciſion in delineating the Italian face. It is generally true, that the upper and under jaw of the European is leſs broad than the breadth of the ſcull, and that among the Aſiatics they are much broader; but I have not been able to determine the ſpecific differences between European nations.

I have very frequently, by phyſiognomonical ſenſations, been able to diſtinguiſh the ſoldiers of different nations; the [〈◊〉], the Iriſhman, and the native of England; yet have I never been able to delineate the diſtinguiſhing traits. The people of our provinces are a mixture of all nations; but, in the remote and ſeparated cantons, I find the countenance to be more flat, and extraordinarily high from the eyes upward.

CHAPTER XXI.

Extracts from the Manuſcript of a Man of Literature at Darmſtadt, on National Phyſiognomy.

ALL tribes of people who dwell on uncultivated countries, and conſequently are paſtoral, not aſſembled in towns, would never be capable of an equal degree of cultivation with Europeans, though they did not live thus ſcattered. Were the ſhackles of ſlavery ſhaken off, ſtill their minds would eternally ſlumber; therefore whatever remarks we can make upon them, muſt be pathognomonical (I ſuſpect phyſiognomonical), and we muſt confine ourſelves to their receptive powers of mind, not being able to ſay much of their expreſſion.

People who do not bear our badges of ſervitude, are not ſo miſerable as we ſuſpect. Their ſpecies of ſlavery is very ſupportable in their mode of exiſtence. They are incomparably better fed than German peaſants, and have neither to contend with the cares of providing, nor the exceſſes of labour. As their race of horſes exceeds ours in ſtrength and ſize, ſo do their people thoſe among us who have, or ſuppoſe they have, property. Their wants are few, and their underſtanding ſufficient to ſupply the wants they have. The Ruſſian or Poliſh peaſant is, of neceſſity, carpenter, tailor, ſhoemaker, maſon, thatcher, &c. and, when when we examine their performances, we may eaſily judge of their capacities. Hence their aptitude at mechanical and handicraft profeſſions, as ſoon as they are taught their principles. Invention of what is great they have no pretenſions to; their mind, like a machine, is at reſt, when the neceſſity that ſet it in motion ceaſes.

Of the numerous nations ſubject to the Ruſſian ſceptre, I ſhall omit thoſe of the extenſive Siberian diſtricts, and confine myſelf to the Ruſſians, properly ſo called, whoſe countries are bounded by Finland, Eaſtland, Livonia, and the borders of Aſia. Theſe are diſtinguiſhable by prodigious ſtrength, firm ſinews, broad breaſt, and coloſſal neck, which, in a whole ſhip's crew, will be the ſame, reſembling the Farneſian Hercules; by their black, broad, thick, rough, ſtrong hair, head and beard; their ſunken eyes, black as pitch; their ſhort forehead, compreſſed to the noſe, with an arch. We often find thin lips, though in general they are pouting, wide, and thick. The women have high cheek-bones, hollow temples, ſnub noſes, and retreating arched foreheads, with very few traits of ideal beauty. At a certain period of life both ſexes frequently become corpulent. Their power of propagation almoſt exceeds belief.

In the centre dwell the Ukranians, of whom moſt of the regiments of Coſſacs are formed. They are diſtinguiſhed among the Ruſſians almoſt as the Jews are among Europeans. They generally have aquiline noſes; are nobly formed; amorous, yielding, crafty, and without ſtrong paſſions; probably becauſe, for ſome thouſands of years, they have followed agriculture, have lived in ſociety, had a form of government, and inhabit a moſt fruitful country, in a moderate climate, reſembling that of France. Among all theſe people, the greateſt activity and ſtrength of body are united. They are as different from the German boor, as quickſilver is from lead; and how our anceſtors could ſuppoſe them to be ſtupid, is inconceivable.

Thus too the Turks reſemble the Ruſſians. They are a mixture of the nobleſt blood of Aſia Minor with the more material and groſs Tartar. The Natolian, of a ſpiritual nature, feeds on meditation; will for days contemplate a ſingle object, ſeat himſelf at the cheſs-board, or wrap himſelf up in the mantle of taciturnity. The eye, void of paſſion or great enterpriſe, abounds in all the penetration of benevolent cunning; the mouth eloquent; the hair of the head and beard, and the ſmall neck, declare the flexibility of the man.

The Engliſhman is erect in his gait, and generally ſtands as if a ſtake were driven through his body. His nerves are ſtrong, and he is the beſt runner. He is diſtinguiſhed from all other men by the roundneſs and ſmoothneſs of the muſcles of his face. If he neither ſpeak nor move, he ſeldom declares the capability and mind he poſſeſſes in ſo ſuperior a degree. His ſilent eye ſeeks not to pleaſe. His hair, coat, and character, are alike ſmooth. Not cunning, but on his guard; and, perhaps, but little colouring is neceſſary to deceive him on any occaſion. Like the bull-dog, he does not bark; but, if irritated, rages. As he wiſhes not for more eſteem than he merits, ſo he deteſts the falſe pretenſions of his neighbours, who would arrogate excellence they do not poſſeſs. Deſirous of private happineſs, he diſregards public opinion, and obtains a character of ſingularity. His imagination, like a ſea-coal fire, is not the ſplendour that enlightens a region, but expands genial warmth. Perſeverance in ſtudy, and pertinacity, for centuries, in fixed principles, have raiſed and maintained the Britiſh ſpirit as well as the Britiſh government, trade, manufactures, and marine. He has punctuality and probity, not trifling away his time to eſtabliſh falſe principles, or making a parade with a vicious hypotheſis.

In the temperament of nations, the French claſs is that of the ſanguine. Frivolous, benevolent, and oſtentatious, the Frenchman forgets not his inoffenſive parade till old age has made him wiſe. At all times diſpoſed to enjoy life, he is the beſt of companions. He pardons himſelf much; and therefore pardons others, if they will but grant that they are foreigners, and he is a Frenchman. His gait is dancing, his ſpeech without accent, and his ear incurable. His imagination purſues the conſequences of ſmall things with the rapidity of the ſecond-hand of a ſtop-watch, but ſeldom gives thoſe loud, ſtrong, reverberating ſtrokes which proclaim new diſcoveries to the world. Wit is his inheritance. His countenance is open, and, at firſt ſight, ſpeaks a thouſand pleaſant, amiable things. Silent he cannot be, either with eye, tongue or feature. His eloquence is often deafening; but his good humour caſts a veil over all his failings. His form is equally diſtinct from that of other nations, and difficult to deſcribe in words. No other man has ſo little of the firm or deep traits, or ſo much motion. He is all appearance, all geſture; therefore the firſt impreſſion ſeldom deceives, but declares who and what he is. His imagination is incapable of high flights, and the ſublime in all arts is to him offence. Hence his diſlike of whatever is antique in art or literature, his deafneſs to true muſic, his blindneſs to the higher beauties of painting. His laſt, moſt marking trait is, that he is aſtoniſhed at every thing, and cannot comprehend how it is poſſible men ſhould be other than they are at Paris.

The countenance of the Italian is ſoul, his ſpeech exclamation, his motion geſticulation. His form is the nobleſt, and his country the true [•]eat of beauty. His ſhort forehead, his ſtrong, marked eyebones, the fine contour of his mouth, give a kindred claim to the antiquities of Greece. The ardour of his eyes denotes, that the beneficent ſun brings forth fruit more perfect in Italy than beyond the Alps. His imagination is ever in motion, ever ſympathiſing with ſurrounding objects, and, as in the poem of Arioſto the whole works of creation are reflected, ſo are they generally in the national ſpirit. That power which could bring forth ſuch a work, appears to me the general repreſentative of genius. It ſings all, and from it all things are ſung. The ſublime in arts is the birthright of the Italian. Modern religion and politics may have degraded and falſified his character, may have rendered the vulgar faithleſs and crafty, but the ſuperior part of the nation abounds in the nobleſt and beſt of men.

The Dutchman is tranquil, patient, confined, and appears to will nothing. His walk and eye are long ſilent, and an hour of his company will ſcarcely produce a thought. He is little troubled by the tide of paſſions, and he will contemplate unmoved the parading ſtreamers of all nations ſailing before his eyes. Quiet and competence are his gods; therefore thoſe arts alone which can procure theſe bleſſings, employ his faculties. His laws, political and commercial, have originated in that ſpirit of ſecurity which maintains him in the poſſeſſion of what he has gained. He is tolerant in all that relates to opinion, if he be but left peaceably to enjoy his property, and to aſſemble at the meeting-houſe of his ſect. The character of the ant is ſo applicable to the Dutch, that to this literature itſelf conforms in Holland. All poetical powers, exerted in great works or ſmall, or foreign to this nation. They endure pleaſure from the peruſal of, but produce no poetry. I ſpeak of the United Provinces, and not of the Flemings, whoſe jovial character is in the midway between the Italian and French. A high forehead, half-open eyes, full noſe, hanging cheeks, wide open mouth, fleſhy lips, broad chin, and large ears, I believe to be characteriſtic of the Dutchman.

A German thinks it diſgraceful not to know every thing, and dreads nothing ſo much as to be thought a fool. Probity often makes him appear a blockhead. Of nothing is he ſo proud as of honeſt, moral underſtanding. According to modern tactics, he is certainly the beſt ſoldier, and the teacher of all Europe. He is allowed to be the greateſt inventor, and often with ſo little oſtentation, that foreigners have, for centuries, unknown to him, robbed him of his glory. From the age of Tacitus, a willing dependant, he has exerted faculties for the ſervice of his maſters, which others only exert for freedom and property. His countenance does not, like a painting in freſco, ſpeak at a diſtance; but he muſt be ſought and ſtudied. His good nature and benevolence are often concealed under apparent moroſeneſs, and a third perſon is always neceſſary to draw off the veil, and ſhow him as he is. He is difficult to move, and, without the aid of old wine, is ſilent. He does not ſuſpect his own worth, and wonders when it is diſcovered by others. Fidelity, induſtry, and ſecrecy, are his principal characteriſtics. Not having wit, he indulges his ſenſibility. Moral good is the colouring which he requires in all arts. His epic and lyric ſpirit walk in unfrequented paths. Hence his great, and frequently gigantic ſenſe, which ſeldom permits him the clear aſpect of enthuſiaſm, or the glow of ſplendour. Moderate in the uſe of this world's delights, he has little propenſity to ſenſuality and extravagance; but he is therefore formal, and leſs ſocial than his neighbour.

CHAPTER XXII.

Deſcription of Plate IV.

Number 1.

WE may certainly call noſes arched and pointed like this, witty; but the wit is reſtrained and moderated by the acute underſtanding of the forehead, the ſincere religion of the eye, and the phlegm of the chin.

Number 2.

The deſcent from the noſe to the lips in the phlegmatic countenance is unphlegmatic, and heterogeneous; nor does the curvature of the upper eyelid ſufficiently agree with the temperament. The outlines of the phlegmatic are relaxed, obtuſe, and hanging; the outline of the eyes, oblique. Be it underſtood, there are other tokens, and that all phlegmatic perſons have not theſe ſigns, although whoever has them is certainly phlegmatic. If the projecting under lip, which is itſelf a ſign of phlegm, ſince it is evidently a ſuperabundance and not a want of matter, be angular, and ſharply delineated, then it is a ſign of choloric phlegm; that is to ſay, of the ebullition of humidity. If it be flexible, obtuſe, powerleſs, and drooping, it is then pure phlegm. The forehead, noſe, chin, and hair, are here very phlegmatic.

Number 3

The choleric ought to have a more angularly pointed noſe, and lips more ſharply delineated. The character of choler is much contained in the drawing of the eyes, either when the pupil projects, and much of the under part of the white is viſible, or when the upper eyelid retreats ſo that it ſcarcely can be perceived; when the eyes open, or when the eye is ſunken, and the outlines are very definite and firm, without much curvature. In this example, the forehead, eyebrows, noſe, chin, and hair, are very choleric; but the upper part of the countenance more ſo than the under.

Number 4.

The ſa[•]guine needs but little correction, except that the noſe ought to be a little farther from the mouth and the eye not ſo choleric. The levity of the ſanguine temperament waves, flutters upon the lip, which, however, at the bottom, is too phlegmatic.

Number 5.

There ought to be a deeper cavity above the noſe, and alſo of the jaw-bone, beſide the ear, in this melancholic countenance. I have obſerved, in many melancholic perſons, that the noſe declines towards the lips; nor have I ſeen this in any who were not ſometimes inclined to the melancholic, who likewiſe have projecting under lips, and ſmall, but not very round, nor very fleſhy chins.

There are melancholy perſons with very ſanguine temperaments; men of fine irratibility, and moral feelings, who are hurried into vices which they deeply abhor, and which they have not the power to withſtand. The gloomy and diſpirited character of ſuch is perceptible in the eye that ſhuns examination, and the wrinkles of the forehead ſtanding oppoſite to each other. Perſons of a real melancholic temperament generally have their mouths ſhut, but the lips are always ſomewhat open in the middle. Many melancholic perſons have ſmall noſtrils, and ſeldom well arranged, clean, white teeth.

Number 6.

Strength and ardour, enterpriſe, courage, contempt of danger, fortitude of the irritated and irritable. This ſtrength is rather oppreſſive than patient and enduring; it proclaims its own qualities, reſpectable in a ſtate of reſt, terrible when rouſed.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Reſemblance between Parents and Children.

THE reſemblance between parents and children is very commonly remarkable. Family phyſiognomy is as undeniable as national. To doubt this, is to doubt what is ſelf-evident; to wiſh to interpret it, is to wiſh to explore the inexplicable ſecret of exiſtence. Striking and frequent as the reſemblance between parents and children is, yet have the relations between the characters and countenances of families never been inquired into. No one has, to my knowledge, made any regular obſervations on this ſubject. I muſt alſo confeſs, that I have myſelf made but few with that circumſtantial attention which is neceſſary. All I have to remark is as follows:

When the father is conſiderably ſtupid, and the mother exceedingly the reverſe, then will moſt of the children be endued with extraordinary underſtanding.

When the father is good, truly good, the children will in general be well-diſpoſed; at leaſt moſt of them will be benevolent.

The ſon generally appears to inherit moral goodneſs from the good father, and intelligence from the intelligent mother; the daughter partakes of the character of the mother.

If we wiſh to find the moſt certain marks of reſemblance between parents and children, they ſhould be obſerved within an hour or two after birth. We may then perceive whom the child moſt reſembles in its formation. The moſt eſſential reſemblance is uſually afterwards loſt, and does not perhaps appear for many years; or not till after death.

When children, as they increaſe in years, viſibly increaſe in the reſemblance of form and features to their parents, we cannot doubt but there is an increaſing reſemblance of character. How much ſoever the characters of children may appear unlike that of the parents they reſemble, yet will this diſſimilarity be found to originate in external circumſtances; and the variety of theſe muſt be great indeed, if the difference of character is not at length overpowered by the reſemblance of form.

I believe, that from the ſtrongly delineated father, the firmneſs and the kind (I do not ſay the form, but the kind) of bones and muſcles are derived; and from the ſtrongly delineated mother, the kind of nerves and form of the countenance; if the imagination and love of the mother have not fixed themſelves too deeply in the countenance of the man.

Certain forms of countenance, in children, appear for a time undecided whether they ſhall take the reſemblance of the father or of the mother; in which caſe I will grant, that external circumſtances, preponderating love for the father or mother, or a greater degree of intercourſe with either, may influence the form.

We ſometimes ſee children who long retain a remarkable reſemblance to the father, but at length change, and become more like the mother. I undertake not to expound the leaſt of the difficulties that occur on this ſubject; but the moſt modeſt philoſophy may be permitted to compare uncommon caſes with thoſe which are known, even though they were inexplicable; and this, I believe, is all that philoſophy can and ought to do.

We know that all longings, or moth[•••] marks, and whatever may be conſidered as of the ſame nature, which is much, do not proceed from the father, but from the imagination of the mother. We alſo know that children moſt reſemble the father only when the mother has a very lively imagination, and love for, or fear of the huſband. Therefore, as has been before obſerved, it appears that the matter and quantum of the power and of the life, proceed from the father; and from the imagination of the mother, ſenſibility, the kind of nerves, the form, and the appearance.

There are certain forms and features of countenance which are long propagated, and others which as ſuddenly diſappear. The beautiful and the deformed (I do not ſay forms of countenances, but what is generally ſuppoſed to be beauty and deformity) are not the moſt eaſily propagated; neither are the middling and inſignificant; but the great and the minute are eaſily inherited, and of long duration.

Parents with ſmall noſes may have children with the largeſt and ſtrongeſt defined; but the father or mother ſeldom, on the contrary, have a very ſtrong, that is to ſay, large-boned noſe, which is not communicated at leaſt to one of their children, and which does not remain in the family, eſpecially when it is in the female line. It may ſeem to have been loſt for many years, but ſoon or late will again make its appearance, and its reſemblance to the original will be particularly viſible a day or two after death.

Where any extraordinary vivacity appears in the eyes of the mother, there is almoſt a certainty that theſe eyes will become hereditary; for the imagination of the mother is delighted with nothing ſo much as with the beauty of her own eyes. Phyſiognomonical ſenſation has been hitherto more generally directed to the eyes, than to the noſe and form of the face; but if women ſhould once be induced to examine the noſe, and form of the face, as aſſiduouſly as they have done their eyes, it is to be expected that the former will be no leſs ſtrikingly hereditary than the latter.

Well-arched and ſhort foreheads are eaſy of inheritance, but not of long duration; and here the proverb is applicable, Quod cito fit, cito perit. (Soon got, ſoon gone.)

It is equally certain and inexplicable, that ſome remarkable phyſiognomies, of the moſt fruitful perſons, have been wholly loſt to their poſterity; and it is as certain and inexplicable, that others are never loſt. Nor is it leſs remarkable, that certain ſtrong countenances, of the father or mother, diſappear in the children, and perfectly revive in the grand-children.

As a proof of the powers of the imagination of the mother, we ſometimes ſee, that a woman ſhall have children by the ſecond huſband, which ſhall reſemble the firſt, at leaſt in the general appearance. The Italians, however, are manifeſtly too extravagant, when they ſuppoſe children, who ſtrongly reſemble their father, are baſe bo[•]n. They ſay that the mother, during the commiſſion of a crime ſo ſhameful, wholly employs her imagination concerning the poſſibility of ſurpriſe by, and the image of, her huſband. But, were this fear ſo to act, the form of the children muſt not only have the very image of the huſband, but alſo his appearance of rage and revenge, without which the adulterous wife could not imagine the being ſurpriſed by, or image of, her huſband. It is this appearance, this rage, that ſhe fears, and not the man.

Natural children generally reſemble one of their parents more than the legitimate.

The more there is of individual love, of pure, faithful, mild affection, the more this love is reciprocal and unconſtrained between the father and mother, which reciprocal love and affection imply a certain degree of imagination, and the capacity of receiving impreſſions, the more will the countenances of the children appear to be compoſed of the features of the parents.

The ſanguine of all the temperaments is the moſt eaſily inherited, and with it volatility; and, being once introduced, much induſtry and ſuffering will be neceſſary to extirminate this volatility.

The natural timidity of the mother may eaſily communicate the melancholy temperament of the father. Be it underſtood that this is eaſy, if, in the deciſive moment, the mother be ſuddenly ſeized by ſome predominant fear; and that it is leſs communicable when the fear is leſs haſty and more reflective. Thus we find thoſe mothers, who, during the whole time of their pregnancy, are moſt in dread of producing monſtrous or marked children, becauſe they remember to have ſeen objects that excited abhorrence, generally have the beſt formed, and freeſt from marks; for the fear, though real, was the fear of reaſon, and not the ſudden effect of an object exciting abhorrence riſing inſtantaneouſly to [•]ight.

When both parents have given a deep root to the choleric temperament in a family, it may probably be ſome centuries before it be again moderated. Phlegm is not ſo eaſily inherited, even though both father and mother ſhould be phlegmatic; for there are certain moments of life when the phlegmatic acts with its whole power, though it acts thus but rarely, and theſe moments may and muſt have their effects; but nothing appears more eaſy of inheritance than activity and induſtry, when theſe have their origin in organization, and the neceſſity of producing alteration. It will be long before an induſtrious couple, to whom not only a livelihood, but buſineſs, is in itſelf neceſſary, ſhall not have a ſingle deſcendant with the like qualities, as ſuch mothers are generally prolific.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Remarks on the Opinions of Buffon, Haller, and Bonnet, concerning the reſemblance between Parents and Children.

THE theory or hypotheſis of Buffon, concerning the cauſe of the human form, is well known, which Haller has abridged and more clearly explained in the following manner:

"Both ſexes have their ſemen, in which are active particles of a certain form. From the union of theſe the fruit of the womb ariſes. Theſe particles contain the reſemblance of all the parts of the father or mother. They are, by nature, ſeparated from the rude and unformed particles of the human juices, and are impreſſed with the form of all the parts of the body of the father or mother. Hence ariſes the reſemblance of children to their parents. This will account for the mixture of the features of father and mother in the children—for ſpots in animals, when the male and female are of different colours—for the Mulatto produced by a Negro and a White—and for many other phenomena difficult to be reſolved.

"It may be aſked, how theſe particles can aſſume the internal ſtructure of the body of the father, ſince they can properly be only the images of the hollow veſſels? To which it is anſwered, that we know not all the powers of Nature, and that ſhe may have preſerved to herſelf, though ſhe has concealed it from her ſcholar, Man, the art of making internally models and impreſſions, which ſhall expreſs the whole ſolidity of the model."

Haller, in his preface to Buffon's Natural Hiſtory, has, in my opinion, indiſputably confuted this ſyſtem. But he has not only forborne to elucidate the reſemblance between fathers and children, but while oppoſing Buffon, he has ſpoken ſo much on the natural, phyſiological diſſimilarity of the human body, that he appears to have denied this reſemblance. Buffon's hypotheſis offended all philoſophy; and though we cannot entirely approve the theory of Bonnet, yet he has very effectually oppoſed the incongruities of Buffon, to which Buffon himſelf could ſcarcely give any ſerious faith. But he, as we ſhall ſoon ſee, has either avoided the queſtion of reſemblance between parents and children, or, in order to ſtrengthen his own ſyſtem, has rather ſought to palliate than to anſwer difficulties.

BONNET, concerning organized Bodies▪

"Are the germs of one and the ſame ſpecies of organized bodies perfectly like each other, or individually diſtinct? Are they only diſtinct in the organs which characterize ſex, or have they a reſembling difference to each other, ſuch as we obſerve in individual ſubſtances of the ſame ſpecies of plants or animals?

"Anſwer.—If we conſider the infinite variety to be obſerved in all the products of nature, the latter will appear moſt probable. The differences which are obſerved in the individuals of the ſame ſpecies, probably depend more on the primitive form of the germs, than on the connexion of the ſexes."

On the Reſemblance between Children and their Parents.

"I muſt own, that, by the foregoing hypotheſis, I have not been ſucceſsful in explaining the reſemblance of features found between parents and children. But are not theſe features very ambiguous? Do we not ſuppoſe that to be the cauſe, which probably is not ſo? The father is deformed, the ſon is deformed after the ſame manner, and it is therefore concluded that deformity is inherited. This may be true; but it may be falſe. The deformity of each may ariſe from very different cauſes, and theſe cauſes may be infinitely varied.

"It is leſs difficult to explain hereditary diſeaſes. We can eaſily conceive, that defective juices may produce defective germs; and when the ſame parts of the body are affected by diſeaſe in father or mother, and in child, this ariſes from the ſimilar conformation of the parts, by which they are ſubject to like inconveniencies. Beſides, the miſhapen body often originates in diſeaſe being hereditary, which much diminiſhes the firſt difficulty. For, ſince the juices conducted to thoſe parts are of a bad quality, the parts muſt be more or leſs ill formed, according as they are more or leſs capable of being affected by theſe juices."

REFLEXION.

Bonnet cannot find the origin of family likeneſs in his ſyſtem. But let us take this his ſyſtem in the part where he finds the origin of hereditary diſeaſe. Shall the defective juices of father or mother very much alter the germ, and produce, in the very parts where the father or mother is injured, important changes of bad formation, more or leſs, according to the capability of the germ, and its power of reſiſtance? And ſhall the healthy juices of the parent in no manner affect the germ? Why ſhould not the healthy juices be [〈◊〉] active as the unhealthy? Why ſhould they not introduce the ſame qualities in miniature, which the father and mother have in the groſs, ſince the father and mother aſſimilate the nutriment they receive to their own nature, and ſince the ſeminal juices are the ſpiritual extract of all their juices and powers, as we have juſt reaſon to conclude from the moſt continued and accurate obſervations? Why ſhould they not as naturally, and as powerfully, act upon the germ, to produce all poſſible reſemblance? But which reſemblance is infinitely varied, by differently changeable and changed circumſtances; ſo that the germ continually preſerves ſufficient of its own original nature and properties, yet is always very diſtinct from the parents, and ſometimes even ſeems to have derived very little from them, which may happen from a thouſand accidental cauſes or changes.

Hence family reſemblance and diſſimilarity being ſummarily conſidered, we ſhall find that nature, wholly employed to propagate, appears to be entirely directed to produce an equilibrium between the individual power of the germ, in its firſt formation, and the reſembling power of the parents; that the originality of the firſt form of the germ may not wholly diſappear before the too great power of reſemblance to the parents, but that they may mutually concur, and both be ſubject to numberleſs circumſtances, which may increaſe or diminiſh their reſpective powers, in order that the riches of variety, and the utility of the creature, and its dependence on the whole, and the general Creator, may be the greater and more predominant.

From all obſervations on the reſemblance between parents and children which I have been enabled to make, it appears to me evident, that neither the theories of Bonnet nor Buffon give any ſyſtematic explanation of phenomena, the exiſtence of which cannot be denied by the ſophiſtry of hypotheſis. Diminiſh the difficulties as much as we will, facts will ſtill ſtare us in the face. If the germ exiſt preformed in the mother, can this germ, at that time, have phyſiognomy? Can it, at that time, reſemble the future, promiſcuous, firſt, or ſecond father? Is it not perfectly indifferent to either? or, if the phyſiognomonical germ exiſt in the father, how can it ſometimes reſemble the mother, ſometimes the father, often both, and often neither?

To me it appears, that ſomething germ-like, or a whole capable of receiving the human form, muſt previouſly exiſt in the mother; but which is nothing more than the foundation of the future fatherly or motherly I know not what, and is the efficient cauſe of the future living fruit. This germ-like ſomething, which, moſt eſpecially conſtituted agreeable to the human form, is analagous to the nature and temperature of the mother, receives a peculiar individual perſonal phyſiognomy, according to the propenſities of the father or mother, the diſpoſition of the moment of conception, and probably of many other future deciſive moments.

Still much remains to the freedom and prediſpoſition of man. He may deprave or improve the ſtate of the juices, he may calm or agitate his mind, may awaken every ſenſation of love, and by various modes increaſe or relax them. Yet I think, that neither the nature of the bones, nor the muſcles and nerves, conſequently the character, depends on the phyſiognomonical preformation preceding generation; at leaſt, they are far from depending on theſe along, though I allow the organizable, the primitive form, always has a peculiar individuality, which is only capable of receiving certain ſubtile influences, and which muſt reject others.

CHAPTER XXV.

Obſervations on the New-born, the Dying, and the Dead.

I HAVE remarked in ſome children, about an hour after a not difficult birth, a ſtriking, though infantine reſemblance, in the profile, to the profile of the father. In a few days, this reſemblance had nearly diſappeared. The impreſſion of the open air, nutriment, and perhaps of poſition, had ſo far altered the outlines, that the child ſeemed entirely different.

Two of theſe children I ſaw dead, the one about ſix weeks, and the other about four years old; and nearly twelve hours after death, I obſerved the ſame profile which I had before remarked an hour after birth, with this difference, that the profile of the dead child, as is natural, was ſomething more tenſe and fixed than the living. A part of this reſemblance, however, on the third day, was remarkably gone.

One man of fifty, and another of ſeventy years of age, who fell under my obſervation while they were living, and after death, appeared, while living, not to have the leaſt reſemblance to their ſons, and whoſe countenances ſeemed to be of a quite different claſs: yet, the ſecond day after death, the profile of one had a ſtriking reſemblance to that of his eldeſt, and, of the other, to the profile of his third ſon; as much ſo as the profile of the dead children before mentioned reſembled the living profile an hour after birth, ſtronger indeed, and, as a painter would ſay, harder. On the third day, here alſo a part of the reſemblance diſappeared.

I have uniformly obſerved among the many dead perſons I have ſeen, that ſixteen, eighteen, or twenty-four hours after death, according to the diſeaſe, they have had a more beautiful form, better defined, more proportionate, harmonized, homogeneous, more noble, more exalted, than they ever had during life.

May there not be, thought I, in all men, an original phyſiognomy, ſubject to be diſturbed by the ebb and flow of accident and paſſion? and is not this reſtored by the calm of death, like as troubled waters, being again left at reſt, become clear?

I have obſerved ſome among the dying, who had been the reverſe of noble or great during life, and who, ſome hours before their death, or perhaps ſome moments (one was in a delirium), have had an inexpreſſible ennobling of the countenance. Every body ſaw a new man; colouring, drawing, and grace, all was new, all bright as the morning; beyond expreſſion, noble and exalted; the moſt inattentive muſt ſee, the moſt inſenſible feel, the image of God, I ſaw it break forth and ſhine through the ruins of corruption, was obliged to turn aſide, and adore in ſilence. Yes, glorious God! ſtill art thou there, in the weakeſt, moſt fallible men!

CHAPTER XXVI.

Of the Influence of Countenance on Countenance.

AS the geſtures of our friends and intimates become our own, ſo, in like manner, does their appearance. Whatever we love, we would aſſimilate to ourſelves; and whatever, in the circle of affection, does not change us into itſelf, that we change, as far as may be, into ourſelves.

All things act upon us, and we act upon all things; but nothing has ſo much influence as what we love; and among all objects of affection, nothing acts ſo forcibly as the countenance of man. Its conformity to our countenance makes it moſt worthy our affection. How might it act upon, how attract our attention, had it not ſome marks, diſcoverable or indiſcoverable, ſimilar to, at leaſt of the ſame kind with, the form and features of our own countenance!

Without, however, wiſhing farther to penetrate into what is impenetrable, or to define what is inſcrutable, the fact is indubitable, that countenances attract countenances, and alſo that countenances repel countenances; that ſimilarity of features between two ſympathetic and affectionate men, increaſe with the developement and mutual communication of their peculiar, individual ſenſations. The reflexion, if I may ſo ſay, of the perſon beloved, remains upon the countenance of the affectionate.

The reſemblance frequently exiſts only in a ſingle point—in the character of mind and countenance. A reſemblance in the ſyſtem of the bones preſuppoſes a reſemblance of the nerves and muſcles.

Diſſimilar education may affect the latter ſo much, that the point of attraction may be inviſible to unphyſiognomonical eyes. Suffer the two reſembling forms to approach, and they will reciprocally attract and repel each other; remove every intervening obſtacle, and nature will ſoon prevail. They will recongnize each other, and rejoice in the fleſh of their fleſh, and the bone of their bone: with haſty ſteps will proceed to aſſimilate. Such countenances alſo, which are very different from each other, may communicate, attract, and acquire reſemblance; nay, their likeneſs may become more ſtriking than that of the former, if they happen to be more flexible, more capable, and to have greater ſenſibility.

This reſemblance of features, in conſequence of mutual affection, is ever the reſult of internal nature and organization, and, therefore, of the character of the perſons. It ever has its foundation in a preceding, perhaps, imperceptible reſemblance, which might never have been animated, or ſuſpected, had it not been ſet in motion by the preſence of the ſympathetic being.

It would be of infinite importance to give the character of thoſe countenances which moſt eaſily receive and communicate reſemblance. It cannot but be known, that there are countenances that attract all, others that repel all, and a[•] third kind which are indifferent. The all-repelling render the ignoble countenances over which they have continued influence, more ignoble. The indifferent allows no change. The all-attracting either receive, give, or reciprocally give and receive. The firſt change a little, the ſecond more, the third moſt. "Theſe are the ſouls (ſays Hemſterhuys the younger) which happily, or unhappily, add the moſt exquiſite diſcernment to that exceſſive internal elaſticity which occaſions them to wiſh and feel immoderately; that is to ſay, the ſouls, which are ſo modified, or ſituated, that their attractive force meets the feweſt obſtacles in its progreſs."

To ſtudy the influence of countenance, this intercourſe of mind would be of the utmoſt importance. I have found the progreſs of reſemblance moſt remarkable, when two perſons, the one richly communicative, the other apt to receive, have lived a conſiderable time together, without foreign intervention; when he who gave had given all, o[•] he who received could receive no more, phyſiognomonical reſemblance had attained its punctum ſaturationis. It was incapable of farther increaſe.

A word here to thee, youth, irritable, and eaſy to be won. Oh! pauſe, conſider; throw not thyſelf too haſtily into the arms of an untried friend. A gleam of ſympathy and reſemblance may eaſily deceive thee. If the man, who is thy ſecond ſelf, have not yet appeared, be not raſh, thou ſhalt find him at the appointed hour. Being found, he will attract thee to himſelf, will give and receive whatever is communicable. The ardour of his eyes will nurture thine, and the gentleneſs of his voice temper thy too-piercing tones. His love will ſhine in thy countenance, and his image will appear in thee. Thou wilt become what he is, and yet remain what thou art. Affection will make qualities in him viſible to thee, which never could be ſeen by an unintereſted eye. This capability of remarking, of feeling what there is of divine in him, is a power which will make thy countenance aſſume his reſemblance.

CHAPTER XXVII.

On the Influence of the Imagination on the Countenance.

A Word only on a ſubject concerning which volumes might be written; for it is a ſubject I muſt not leave wholly in ſilence. The little, the nothing I have to ſay upon it, can only act as an inducement to deeper meditations on a theme ſo profound.

Imagination acts upon our own countenance, rendering it in ſome meaſure reſembling the beloved or hated image which is living, preſent, and fleeting before us, and is within the circle of our immediate activity. If a man deeply in love, and ſuppoſing himſelf alone, were ruminating on his beloved miſtreſs, to whom his imagination might lend charms, which, if preſent, he would be unable to diſcover: were ſuch a perſon obſerved by a man of penetration, it is probable that traits of the miſtreſs might be ſeen in the countenance of this meditating lover. So might, in the cruel features of revenge, the features of the enemy be read, whom imagination repreſents as preſent. And thus is the countenance a picture of the characteriſtic features of all perſons exceedingly loved or hated.

It is poſſible, that an eye leſs penetrating than that of an angel, may read the image of the Creator in the countenance of a truly pious perſon. He who languiſhes after Chriſt, the more lively, the more diſtinctly, the more ſublimely, he repreſents to himſelf the very preſence and image of Chriſt, the greater reſemblance will his own countenance take of this image. The image of imagination often acts more effectually than the real preſence; and whoever has ſeen him of whom we ſpeak, the great HIM, though it were but an inſtantaneous glimpſe, oh! how inceſſantly will the imagination reproduce his image in the countenance!

Our imagination alſo acts upon other countenances. The imagination of the mother acts upon the child; and hence men long have attempted to influence the imagination for the production of beautiful children. In my opinion, however, it is not ſo much the beauty of ſurrounding forms, as the intereſt taken concerning forms in certain moments: and here again, it is not ſo much the imagination that acts, as the ſpirit; that being only the organ of the ſpirit. Thus it is true, that it is the ſpirit that quickeneth the fleſh, and the image of the fleſh (merely conſidered as ſuch) profiteth nothing.

A look of love, from the ſanctuary of the ſoul, has certainly greater forming power than hours of deliberate contemplation of the moſt beautiful images. This forming look, if ſo I may call it, can as little be premeditatedly given, as any other naturally beautiful form can be imparted by a ſtudious contemplation in the looking glaſs. All that creates, and is profoundly active, in the inner man, muſt be internal, and be communicated from above; as I believe it ſuffers itſelf not to be occaſioned, at leaſt not by forethought, circumſpection, or wiſdom in the agent, to produce ſuch effects. Beautiful forms, or abortions, are neither of them the work of art or ſtudy, but of intervening cauſes, of the quick-guiding Providence, the predetermining God.

Endeavour to act upon affection, inſtead of the ſenſes. If thou canſt but incite love, it will of itſelf ſeek and find the powers of creation; but this very love muſt itſelf be innate before it can be awakened. Perhaps, however, the moment of this awakening is not in our power; and therefore, to thoſe who would, by plan and method, effect that which is in itſelf ſo extraordinary, and imagine they have had I know not what wiſe and phyſiological circumſpection when they firſt awaken love, I might exclaim, in the words of the enraptured ſongſter: I charge you, O ye daughters of Jeruſalem! by the roes and the hinds of the field, that ye ſtir not up nor awake my love till he pleaſe. Here behold the forming genius:—Behold he cometh, leaping upon the mountains, ſkipping upon the hills, like a young hart!

Unforeſeen moments, rapid as the lightning, in my opinion, form and deform. Creation of every kind is momentaneous; the developement, nutriment, change, improving, injuring, is the work of time, art, induſtry, and education. Creative power ſuffers itſelf not to be ſtudied; creation cannot be premeditated. Marks may be moulded; but living eſſence, within and without reſembling itſelf, the image of God, muſt be created, born, not of the will of the fleſh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

The Effects of the Imagination on the Human Form.

IT is equally true and incomprehenſible, that, by the ſtrength of imagination, there are marks communicated by mothers to children during pregnancy; that there are images, animals, fruit, or other ſubſtances, on the body of the child; marks of the hand on the very parts where the pregnant perſon has been ſuddenly touched; averſion to things which have occaſioned diſguſt in the mother; and a continued ſcurvy communicated to the child, by the unexpected ſight of a putrid animal. So many marks on the bodies of children, ariſing not from imaginary but real accidents, muſt oblige us to own, that there is truth in that which is inconceivable: therefore the imagination of the mother acts upon the child.

Of the innumerable examples that might be produced, I ſhall cite the two following:

A woman during the time of her pregnancy, was engaged in a card party, and only wanted the ace of ſpades to win all that was ſtaked; and as it happened, in the change of cards, the ſo much wiſhed-for ace was given her. Her joy at this ſucceſs had ſuch an effect upon her imagination, that the child of which ſhe was pregnant, when born, had the ace of ſpades depicted in the apple of the eye, and without injury to the organ of ſight.

The following anecdote is certainly true, and ſtill more aſtoniſhing:

A lady of Rheinthal had, during her pregnancy, a deſire to ſee the execution of a man, who was ſentenced to have his right hand cut off before he was beheaded. She ſaw the hand ſevered from the body, and inſtantly turned away and went home, without waiting to ſee the death that was to follow. This lady bore a daughter who was living at the time this fragment was written, and who had only one hand. The right-hand came away with the after-birth.

Moral marks, as well as phyſical, are perhaps poſſible. I have heard of a phyſician, who never failed to ſteal ſomething from all the chambers through which he paſſed, which he would afterwards forget; and, in the evening, his wife, who ſearched his pockets, would find keys, ſnuff-boxes, etuis-caſes, ſciſſars, thimbles, ſpectacles, buckles, ſpoons and other trinkets, which ſhe reſtored to the owners. I have been likewiſe told of a child, who, at two years of age, was adopted when begging at the door of a noble family, received an excellent education, and became a moſt worthy man, except that he could not forbear to ſteal. The mothers of theſe two extraordinary thieves muſt, during pregnancy, have had an extraordinary deſire to pilfer. It will be ſelf-evident, that however inſufferable ſuch men are in a ſtate of ſociety, they are rather unfortunate than wicked. Their actions may be as involuntary as mechanical, and, in the ſight of God, probably as innocent as the cuſtomary motions of our fingers when we tear bits of paper, or do any other indifferent, thoughtleſs action.

The moral worth of an action muſt be eſtimated by its intention, as the political worth muſt by its conſequences. As little injury as the ace of ſpades, if the ſtory be true, did to the countenance of the child, as little probably did this thieviſh propenſity to the heart. Such a perſon certainly had no roguiſh look, no avaricious, downcaſt, ſly, pilfering aſpect, like one who is both ſoul and body a thief. I have not yet ſeen any man of ſuch an extraordinary character, and therefore cannot judge of his phyſiognomy by experience; yet we have reaſon previouſly to conclude, that men ſo uncommon muſt bear ſome marks of ſuch deviation of character in their countenance.

Thoſe extraordinary large or ſmall perſons, by us called giants and dwarfs, ſhould perhaps be claſſed among theſe active and paſſive effects of the imagination. Though giants and dwarfs are not properly born ſuch, yet it is poſſible, however incomprehenſible, that Nature may firſt, at a certain age, ſuddenly enlarge or contract herſelf.

We have a variety of examples, that the imagination appears not only to act upon the preſent, but on abſence, diſtance, and futurity, Perhaps apparitions of the dying and the dead may be attributed to this kind of effect. Be it granted that theſe facts, which are ſo numerous, are true, and including not only the apparitions of the dead, but of the living, who have appeared to diſtant friends, after collecting ſuch anecdotes, and adding others on the ſubject of preſage and prediction, many philoſophical conjectures will thence ariſe, which may probably confirm my following propoſition.

The imagination, incited by the deſire and languiſhing of love, or inflamed by paſſion, may act in diſtant places and times. The ſick or dying perſon, for example, ſighs after an abſent friend, who knows not of his ſickneſs, nor thinks of him at the time. The pining of the imagination penetrates, as I may ſay, walls, and appears in the form of the dying perſon, or gives ſigns of his preſence, ſimilar to thoſe which his actual preſence gives. Is there any real corporeal appearance? No. The ſick or dying perſon is languiſhing in his bed, and has never been a moment abſent; therefore, there is no actual appearance of him whoſe form has appeared. What then has produced this appearance? What is it that has acted thus at a diſtance on another's ſenſes or imagination?—Imagination; but the imagination through the focus of paſſion.—How?—It is inexplicable. But who can doubt ſuch facts, who does not mean to laugh at all hiſtorical facts?

May there not be ſimilar moments of mind, when the imagination ſhall act alike inexplicably on the unborn child? That the inexplicable diſguſts, I will grant; I feel it perfectly. But is it not the ſame in the foregoing examples, and in every example of the kind? Like as cripples firſt become ſo many years a[•]ter birth, which daily experience proves; may not, after the ſame inconceivable manner, the ſeeds of what is gigantic or dwarfiſh be the effects of the imagination on the fruit, which does not make its appearance till years after the child is born?

Could a woman keep an accurate regiſter of what happened in all the powerful moments of imagination, during her ſtate of pregnancy, ſhe then might probably be able to foretell the chief incidents, philoſophical, moral, intellectual, and phyſiognomonical, which ſhould happen to her child. Imagination actuated by deſire, love, or hatred, may, with more than lightning ſwiftneſs, kill or enliven, enlarge, diminiſh, or impregnate, the organized [〈◊〉] with the germ of enlarging or diminiſhing wiſdom or folly, death or life, which ſhall firſt be unfolded at a certain time, and under certain circumſtances. This hitherto unexplored, but ſometimes deciſive and revealed creative and changing power of the ſoul, may be, in its eſſence, identically the ſame with what is called faith working miracles, which latter may be developed and increaſed by external cauſes, wherever it exiſts, but cannot be communicated where it is not. A cloſer examination of the foregoing conjectures, which I wiſh not to be held for any thing more than conjectures, may perhaps lead to the profoundeſt ſecrets of phyſiognomy.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Eſſay, by a late learned man of Oldenburg, (M. Sturtz), on Phyſiognomy, interſperſed with ſhort Remarks, by the Author.

"I AM as clearly convinced of the truth of phyſiognomy as Lavater, and of the all-ſignificance of each limb and feature. True it is that the mind may be read in the lineaments of the body, and its motions in the features, and their ſhades.

"Connexion and harmony, cauſe and effect, exiſt through all nature; therefore between the external and internal of man. Our form is influenced by our parents, by the earth on which we walk, the ſun that warms us with its rays, the food that aſſimilates itſelf with our ſubſtance, the incidents that determine the fortunes of our lives. Theſe all modify, repair, and chiſſel forth the body, and the marks of the tool are apparent both in body and in mind. Each arching, each ſinuoſity of the external, adapts itſelf to the individuality of the internal. It is adherent and pliable, like wet drapery. Were the noſe but a little altered, Caeſar would not be the Caeſar with whom we are acquainted.

"When the ſoul is in motion, it ſhines through the body, as the moon through the ghoſts of Oſſian, each paſſion throughout the human race has ever the ſame language."

From eaſt^[2] to weſt, envy no where looks with the ſatisfied air of magnanimity, nor will diſcontent appear like patience. Wherever patience is, there is it expreſſed by the ſame ſigns; as likewiſe are anger, envy, and every other paſſion.

"Philoctetes certainly expreſſes not the ſenſation of pain like a ſcourged ſlave. The angels of Raphael muſt ſmile more nobly than the angels of Rembrandt; but joy and pain ſtill have each their peculiar expreſſion. They act according to peculiar laws upon peculiar muſcles and nerves, however various may be the ſhades of their expreſſion; and the oftener the paſſion is repeated, or ſet in motion, the more it becomes a propenſity, a favourite habit, the deeper will be the furrows it ploughs.

"But inclination, capacity, modes and gradations of capacity, talents, and an ability for buſineſs, lie much more concealed. A good obſerver will diſcover the wrathful, the voluptuous, the proud, the diſcontented, the malignant, the benevolent, and the compaſſionate, with little difficulty. But the philoſopher, the poet, the artiſt, and their various partitions of genius, he will be unable to determine with equal accuracy. And it will be ſtill more difficult to aſſign the feature or trait in which the token of each quality is ſeaten, whether underſtanding be in the eyebone, wit in the chin, and poetical genius in the mouth."

Yet I hope, I believe, nay, I know, that the preſent century ſhall render this poſſible. The penetrating author of this eſſay would not only have found it poſſible, but would have performed it himſelf, had he only ſet apart a ſingle day to compare and examine a well-arranged collection of characters, either in nature, or well-painted portraits.

"Our attention is always excited whenever we meet with a remarkable man, and we all are more or leſs empirical phyſiognomiſts. We perceive in the aſpect, the mien, the ſmile, mechaniſm of the forehead, ſometimes malice, ſometimes wit, at others penetration. We expect and preſage, from the impulſe of latent ſenſation, very determined qualities, from the form of each new acquaintance; and, when this faculty of judging is improved by an intercourſe with the world, we often ſucceed to admiration in our judgment on ſtrangers.

"Can we call this feeling, internal unacquired ſenſation, which is inexplicable, or is it compariſon, indication, concluſion from a character we have examined to another which we have not, and occaſioned by ſome external reſemblance? Feeling is the aegis of enthuſiaſts and fools, and, though it may often be conformable to truth, is ſtill neither demonſtration nor confirmation of truth; but induction is judgment founded on experience, and this way only will I ſtudy phyſiognomy.

"I meet many ſtrangers, with an air of friendſhip, I recede from others with cool politeneſs, though there is no expreſſion of paſſion to attract, or to diſguſt. On farther examination, I always found, that I have ſeen in them ſome trait either of a worthy or worthleſs perſon, with whom I was before acquainted.

"A child, in my opinion acts from like motives, when he evades, or is pleaſed with, the careſſes of ſtrangers, except that he is actuated by more trifling ſigns, perhaps by the colour of the clothes, the tone of the voice, or often by ſome motion, which he has obſerved in the parent, the nurſe, or the acquaintance."

This cannot be denied to be often the caſe, and indeed much more often than is commonly ſuppoſed; yet I make no doubt of being able to prove, that there are, in nature and art, a multitude of traits, eſpecially of the extremes of paſſionate as well as diſpaſſionate faculties, which, of themſelves, and without compariſon with former experiments, are, with certainty, intelligible to the moſt unpractiſed obſerver. I believe it to be incorporated in the nature of man, in the organization of our eyes and ears, that he ſhould be attracted or repulſed by certain countenances, as well as by certain tones. Let a child, who has ſeen but a few men, view but the open jaws of a lion, or a tyger, and the ſmile of a benevolent perſon, and his nature will infallibly ſhrink from the one, and meet the ſmile of benevolence with a ſmile; not from reaſon and compariſon, but from the original feelings of nature. For the ſame reaſon, we liſten with pleaſure to a delightful melody, and ſhudder at diſcordant ſhrieks. As little as there is of compariſon or conſideration on ſuch an occaſion, ſo is there equally little on the firſt ſight of an extremely pleaſing, or an extremely diſguſting countenance.

"It is not therefore mere ſenſation, ſince I have good reaſon, when I meet a perſon who reſembles Turenne, to expect ſagacity, cool reſolution, and ardent enterprize. If, in three men, I find one poſſeſſed of the eyes of Turenne, and the ſame marks of prudence▪ another with his noſe, and high courage; the third with his mouth and activity; I then have aſcertained the [••]at where each quality expreſſes itſelf, and am juſtified in expecting ſimilar qualities wherever I meet ſimilar features.

"Had we, for centuries paſt, examined the human form, arranged characteriſtic features, compared traits, and exemplified inflexions, lines, and proportions, and had we added explanations to each, then would our Chineſe alphabet of the race of man be complete, and we need but open it to find the interpretation of any countenance. Whenever I indulge the ſuppoſition, that ſuch an elementary work is not abſolutely impoſſible, I expect more from it than even Lavater. I imagine we may obtain a language ſo rich, and ſo determinate, that it ſhall be poſſible, from deſcription only, to reſtore the living figure; and that an accurate deſcription of the mind ſhall give the outline of the body, ſo that the phyſiognomiſt, ſtudying ſome future Plutarch, ſhall regenerate great men, and the ideal form ſhall, with facility, take birth from the given definition."

This is excellent; and, be the author in jeſt or earneſt; this is what I entirely, without dreaming, and moſt abſolutely, expect from the following century, for which purpoſe, with God's pleaſure, I will hereafter hazard ſome eſſays.

"With theſe ideal forms ſhall the chambers of future princes be hung, and he who comes to ſolicit employment, ſhall retire without murmuring, when it is proved to him that he is excluded by his noſe."

Laugh or laugh not, friends or enemies of truth, this will, this muſt happen.

"By degrees, I imagine to myſelf a new, and another world, whence error and deceit ſhall be baniſhed."

Baniſhed they would be were phyſiognomy the univerſal religion, were all men accurate obſervers, and were not diſſimulation obliged to recur to new arts, by which phyſiognomy, at leaſt for a time, may be rendered erroneous.

"We have to inquire, whether we ſhould therefore be happier?"

Happier we ſhould certainly be, although the preſent conteſt between virtue and vice, ſincerity and diſſimulation, which ſo contributes to the developement of the grand faculties of man, renders, as I may ſay, human virtue divine, exalting it to heaven.

"Truth is ever found in the medium: we will not hope too little from phyſiognomy, nor will we expect too much. Here torrents of objections break in upon me, ſome of which I am unable to anſwer. Do ſo many men in reality reſemble each other? Is not the reſemblance general; and when particularly examined, does it not vaniſh, eſpecially if the reſembling perſons be compared feature by feature? Does it not happen, that one feature is in direct contradiction to another; that a fearful noſe is placed between eyes which betoken courage?"

In the firm parts, or thoſe capable of ſharp outlines, accidents excepted, I have never [〈◊〉] found contradictory features, but often have between the firm and the flexible, or the ground-form of the flexible and their apparent ſituation. By ground-form I mean to ſay that which is preſerved after death, unleſs diſtorted by violent diſeaſe.

"It is far from being proved, that reſemblance of form univerſally denotes reſemblance of mind. In families where there is moſt reſemblance, there are often the greateſt varieties of mind. I have known twins, not to be diſtinguiſhed from each other, between whoſe minds there was not the leaſt ſimilarity."

If this be literally true, I will renounce phyſiognomy, and to whoever ſhall convince me of it, I will give him my copy of theſe fragments, and an hundred phyſiognomonical drawings. Nor will I be my own judge, I leave it to the worthy author of this remark to chooſe three arbitrators. Let them examine the fact accurately, and, if they confirm it, I will own my error. Shades, however, of theſe twin brothers will firſt be neceſſary. In all the experiments I have made, I declare upon my honour, I have never made any ſuch remark.

"And how ſhall we be able to explain the innumerable exceptions which almoſt overwhelm rule? I will only produce ſome from my own obſervation. Dr. Johnſon had the appearance of a porter; not the glance of the eye, not any trait of the mouth, ſpeak the man of penetration or of ſcience."

When a perſon of our author's penetration and judgment thus affirms, I muſt heſitate and ſay, he has obſerved this, I have not. But how does it happen, that, in more than ten years obſervation, I have never met any ſuch example? I have ſeen many men, eſpecially in the beginning of my phyſiognomonical ſtudies, whom I ſuppoſed to be men of ſenſe, and who were not ſo; but never, to the beſt of my knowledge, did I meet a wiſe man whom I ſuppoſed a fool. In the frontiſpiece is an engraving of Johnſon. Can a countenance more tranquilly fine be imagined, one that more poſſeſſes the ſenſibility of underſtanding, planning, ſcrutinizing? In the eyebrows only, and their horizontal poſition, how great is the expreſſion of profound, exquiſite, penetrating underſtanding!

"The countenance of Hume, was that of a common man."

So ſays common report. I have no anſwer but that I ſuſpect the aſpect, or flexible features, on which moſt obſervers found their phyſiognomonical judgment, have, as I may ſay, effaced the phyſiognomy of the bones; as, for example, the outline and arching of the forehead, to which ſcarcely one in a hundred direct their attention.

"Churchill had the look of a drover; Goldſmith of a ſimpleton; and the cold eyes of Strange do not betray the artiſt."

The greateſt artiſts have often the coldeſt eyes. The man of genius and the artiſt are two perſons. Phlegm is the inheritance of the mere artiſt.

"Who would ſay, that the apparent ardour of Wille ſpeaks the man who paſſed his life in drawing parallel lines?"

Ardour and phlegm are not incompatible; the moſt ardent men are the cooleſt. Scarcely any obſervation has been ſo much verified as this: it appears contradictory, but it is not. Ardent, quickly determining, reſolute, laborious, and boldly enterprizing men, the moments of ardour excepted, have the cooleſt of minds. The ſtyle and countenance of Wille, if the profile portrait of him in my poſſeſſion be a likeneſs, have this character in perfection.

"It appears to me, that Boucher the painter of the graces, has the aſpect of an executioner."

Truly ſo. Such was the portrait I received. But then, my good M. Sturtz, let us underſtand what is meant by theſe painters of the graces. I find as little in his works, as in his countenance. None of the paintings of Boucher were at all to my taſte. I could not contemplate one of them with pleaſure, and his countenance had the ſame effect. I can now comprehend, ſaid I, on the firſt ſight of his portrait, why I have never been pleaſed with the works of Boucher.

"I once happened to ſee a criminal condemned to the wheel, who, with ſatanic wickedneſs, had murdered his benefactor, and who yet had the benevolent and open countenance of an angel of Guido. It is not impoſſible to diſcover the head of a Regulus among guilty criminals, or of a veſtal in the houſe of correction."

I can confirm this from experience. Far be contradiction from me on this ſubject. But ſuch vicious perſons, however hateful with reſpect to the appearance and effect of their actions, or even to their internal motives, were not originally wicked. Where is the pure, the noble, finely formed, eaſily irritated man, with angelic ſenſibility, who has not his deviliſh moments, in which, were not opportunity happily wanting, he might, in one hour, be guilty of ſome two or three vices, which would exhibit him, apparently at leaſt, as the moſt deteſtable of men; yet may he be a thouſand times better and nobler than numerous men of ſubaltern minds, held to be good, who never were capable of committing acts ſo wicked, for the commiſſion of which they ſo loudly condemn him, and, for the good of ſociety, are in duty bound to condemn?

"Lavater will anſwer, ſhow me theſe men, and I will comment upon them, as I have done upon Socrates. Some ſmall, often unremarked trait, will probably explain what appears to you ſo enigmatical. But will not ſomething creep into the commentary, which never was in the text?"

Though this may be, yet it ought not to be the caſe. I will alſo grant, that a man with a good countenance may act like a rogue; but, in the firſt place, at ſuch a moment, his countenance will not appear good; and, in the next, he will infinitely oftener act like a man of worth.

"Have we any right, from a known character, to draw concluſions concerning one unknown? or, is it eaſy to diſcover what that being is, who wanders in darkneſs, and dwells in the houſe of contradiction; who is one creature to-day, and tomorrow the very reverſe?"

How true, how important is this! How neceſſary a beacon to warn and terrify the phyſiognomiſt!

"What judgment could we form of Auguſtus, if we were only acquainted with his conduct to Cinna? or of Cicero, if we knew him only from his conſulate? How gigantic riſes Elizabeth among queens, yet how little, how mean, was the ſuperannuated coquette! James II, a bold general, and a cowardly king! Monk, the revenger of monarchs, the ſlave of his wife: Algernon Sydney and Ruſſel, patriots worthy of Rome, ſold to France! Bacon, the father of wiſdom, a bribed judge! Such diſcoveries make us ſhudder at the aſpect of man, and ſhake off friends and intimates like coals of fire from the hand. When ſuch cameleon minds can be at one moment great, at another contemptible, and alter their form, what can that form ſay?"

Their form ſhows what they may, what they ought to be, and their aſpect, in the moment of action, what they are. Their countenance ſhows their power, and their aſpect the application of their power. The expreſſion of their littleneſs may probably be like the ſpots of the ſun, inviſible to the naked eye.

"Does not [〈◊〉] medium, through which we are accuſtomed to look, tinge our judgment? Smellfungus views all objects through a blackened glaſs; another through a priſm Many contemplate virtue through a diminiſhing, and vice through a magnifying medium."

How excellently expreſſed!

"A book written by [〈◊〉] on phyſiognomy, would certainly have been very different from that of Lavater. National phyſiognomy is ſtill a large uncultivated field. The families of the four claſſes of the race of Adam, from the Eſquimaux to the Greeks, in Europe, and in Germany alone, what varieties are there which can eſcape no obſerver! Heads bearing the ſtamp of the form of government, which ever will influence education; republican haughtineſs, proud of its laws; the pride of the ſlave, who feels pride becauſe he has the power of inflicting the ſcourges he has received; Greeks under Pericles, and under Haſſan Pacha; Romans, in a ſtate of freedom, governed by emperors, and governed by popes; Engliſhmen under Henry the Eighth, and Cromwell. How have I been ſtruck by the portraits of Hampden, Pym, and Vane! All produced varieties of beauty, according to the different nations."

I cannot expreſs how much I am indebted to the author of this ſpirited and energetic eſſay. How worthy an act was it in him, whom I had unintentionally offended, concerning whom I had publiſhed a judgment far from ſufficiently noble, to ſend me this eſſay, with liberty to make what uſe of it I pleaſed! in ſuch a manner, in ſuch a ſpirit, may informations, corrections, or doubts be ever conveyed to me! Shall I need to apologize for having inſerted it? or rather, will not moſt of my readers ſay, give us more ſuch?

CHAPTER XXX.

Quotations from Huart, with Remarks.

1. SOME are wiſe and appear not to be ſo; others appear wiſe and are not ſo; ſome again are not, and appear not to be wiſe; and others are wiſe, and alſo appear to be wiſe.

A touchſtone for many countenances.

2. "The ſon is often brought in debtor to the great underſtanding of the father.

3. "Wiſdom in infancy denotes folly in manhood.

"4. No aid can make thoſe bring forth who are not pregnant."

We muſt not expect fruit where ſeed has not been ſown. How advantageous, how important, would phyſiognomy become, were it, by being acquainted with every ſign of intellectual and moral pregnancy enabled to render aid to all the pregnant and to the pregnant only!

5. The external form of the head is what it ought to be, when it reſembles a hollow globe ſlightly compreſſed at the ſides with a ſmall protuberance at the forehead and back of the head. A very flat forehead, or a ſudden deſcent at the back of the head, are no good tokens of underſtanding.

The profile of ſuch a head, notwithſtanding the compreſſure, would be more circular than oval. The profile of a good head ought to form a circle combined only when with the noſe; therefore, without the noſe it approaches much more to the oval than the circular. "A very flat forehead, (ſays our author) is no ſign of good underſtanding." True, if the flatneſs reſemble that of the ox; but I have ſeen perfectly flat foreheads, let me be rightly underſtood. I mean flat only between and above the eyebrows, in men of great wiſdom. Much indeed, depends upon the poſition and curve of the outlines of the forehead.

6. Man has more brain than any animal. Were the quantity of the brain in two of the largeſt oxen compared to the quantity found in the ſmalleſt man, it would prove to be leſs."

7. "Large oranges have thick ſkins and little juice. Heads of much bone and fleſh have little brain. Large bones, with abundance of fleſh and fat, are impediments to the mind."

8. "The heads of wiſe perſons are very weak, and ſuſceptible of the moſt minute impreſſions."

Often, not always. And how wiſe? Wiſe to plan, but not to execute. Active wiſdom muſt have harder bones. One of the greateſt of this earth's wonders is a man in whom the two qualities are united, who has ſenſibility even to painful exceſs, and coloſſal courage to reſiſt the impetuous torrent, the whirlpool, by which he ſhall be aſſailed. Such characters poſſeſs ſenſibility from the tenderneſs of bodily feeling; and ſtrength, not ſo much in the bones as in the nerves.

9. "A thick belly, ſays Galen, a thick underſtanding."

With equal truth or falſehood, I may add, a thin belly, a thin underſtanding. Remarks ſo general, which would prove ſo many able and wiſe men to be fools, I value but little. A thick belly certainly is no poſitive token of underſtanding, it is rather poſitive for ſenſuality, which is detrimental to the underſtanding; but abſtractedly, and unconnected with other indubitable marks, I cannot receive this as a general propoſition.

10. "Ariſtotle holds the ſmalleſt heads to be the wiſeſt."

But this, with all reverence for ſo great a man, I think was ſpoken without reflexion. Let a ſmall head be imagined on a great body, or a great head on a ſmall body, each of which may be found in conſequence of accidents that excite or retard growth; and it will be perceived that, without ſome more definite diſtinction, neither the large nor the ſmall head is, in itſelf, wiſe or fooliſh. It is true, that large heads with ſhort triangular foreheads, are fooliſh; as are thoſe large heads which are fat, and incumbered with fleſh; but ſmall, particularly round heads, with the like incumbrance, are intolerably fooliſh, and generally poſſeſs that, which renders their intolerable folly more intolerable, a pretenſion to wiſdom.

11. "It is a good ſign, when a ſmall perſon has a head ſomewhat large, and a large perſon has the head ſomewhat ſmall."

Provided this extends no farther than ſomewhat, it may be ſuffered; but it is certainly beſt, when the head is in ſuch proportion to the body, that it is not remarkable either for its largeneſs or ſmallneſs.

12. "Memory and imagination reſemble the underſtanding as a monkey does a man."

13. "It is if no conſequence to the genius, whether the fleſh be hard or tender, if the brain do not partake of the ſame quality; for experience tells us, that the latter is very often of a different temperament to the other parts of the body. But when both the brain and the fleſh are tender, they betoken ill to the underſtanding, and equally ill to the imagination."

14. "The fluids which render the fleſh tender, are phlegm and blood; and theſe being moiſt, according to Galen, render men ſimple and ſtupid. The fluids, on the contrary, which harden the fleſh, are choler and melancholy, (or bile) and theſe generate wiſdom and underſtanding. It is therefore a much worſe ſign to have tender fleſh than rough; and tender ſignifies a bad memory, with weakneſs of underſtanding and imagination."

If I may ſo ſay, there is an intelligent tenderneſs of fleſh, which announces much more underſtanding than do the oppoſite qualities of rough and hard. I can no more claſs coriaceous fleſh as the characteriſtic of underſtanding, than I can tenderneſs of fleſh, without being more accurately defined, as the characteriſtic of folly. It will be proper to diſtinguiſh between tender and porous, or ſpongy, and between rough and firm without hardneſs.

15. "To diſcover whether the quality of the brain correſponds with the fleſh, we muſt examine the hair. If the hair be black, ſtrong, rough, and thick, it betokens ſtrength of imagination and underſtanding."

I am of a different opinion. Let not this be expreſſed in ſuch general terms. At this moment, I recollect a very weak man, by nature weak, with exactly ſuch hair. This roughneſs (ſprodigk[•]it) is a fatal word, which, taken in what ſenſe it will, never ſignifies any thing good.

"But if the hair be [•]ender and weak▪ it denotes nothing more than goodneſs of memory."

Once more too little: it denotes a finer organization, which receives the impreſſion of images at leaſt as ſtrongly as the ſigns of images.

16. "When the hair is of the firſt quality, and we would farther diſtinguiſh, whether it betokens goodneſs of underſtanding or imagination, we muſt pay attention to the laugh. Laughter betrays the quality of the imagination."

And I add, of the underſtanding, of the heart, of power, love, hatred, pride, humility, truth, and falſehood. Would I had artiſts, who would watch for and deſign the outlines of laughter! The phyſiognomy of laughter would be the beſt of elementary books for the knowledge of man. If the laugh be good, ſo is the perſon. It is ſaid of Chriſt, that he never laughed. I believe it; but, had he never ſmiled, he would not have been human. The ſmile of Chriſt muſt have contained the preciſe outline of brotherly love.

17. "Heraclitus ſays, a dry eye, a wiſe mind."

18. "We ſhall diſcover few men of great underſtanding who write a fine hand."

It might have been ſaid with more accuracy, a ſchoolmaſter's hand.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Remarks on an Eſſay on Phyſiognomy, by Profeſſor Litchtenberg.

THIS eſſay is written with much intelligence, much ornament, and a mild diffuſive eloquence. It is the work of a very learned, penetrating, and, in many reſpects, highly meritorious perſon, who appears to poſſeſs much knowledge of men, and a large portion of the prompt ſpirit of obſervation. This eſſay merits the utmoſt attention and inveſtigation. It is ſo intereſting, ſo comprehenſive, affords ſo much opportunity of remark for the phyſiognomiſt, and of remarks which I have yet to make, that I cannot avoid citing the moſt important paſſages, and ſubmitting them to an unprejudiced and accurate examination.

It is far from my intention or wiſh to compare myſelf with the excellent author, to make any pretenſion to his fanciful and brilliant wit, and ſtill leſs to his learning and penetration. Though I could wiſh, I dare not hope, to meet and anſwer him with the ſame elegance as his poliſhed mind and fine taſte ſeem to demand. I am ſenſible of thoſe wants which are peculiar to myſelf, and which muſt remain mine, even when I have truth on my ſide. Yet, worthy Sir, be aſſured that I ſhall never be unjuſt, and that, even where I cannot aſſent to your obſervations, I ſhall never forget the eſteem I owe your talents, learning, and merits.

Let us in ſuppoſition, ſit down in friendſhip with your eſſay before us, and, with that benevolence which is moſt becoming men, philoſophers in particular, explain our mutual ſentiments concerning nature and truth.

ON PHYSIOGNOMY.

"Certainly (ſays our author) the freedom of thought, and the very receſſes of the heart, were never more ſeverely ſcrutinized than in the preſent age."

It appears to me that, at the very beginning, an improper point of view is taken, which may probably lead the author and reader aſtray through the whole eſſay. For my own part, at leaſt, I know of no attacks on the freedom of thought, or the ſecret receſſes of the heart. It is univerſally known, that my labours have been leſs directed to this than to the knowledge of predominant character, capacities, talents, powers, inclinations, activity, genius, religion, ſenſibility, irritability, and elaſticity, of men in general, and not to the diſcovery of actual and preſent thought. As far as I am concerned, the ſoul may, and can, in our witty author's own words, "brood as ſecretly over its treaſures as it might have done centuries ago; may as tranquilly ſmile at the progreſs of all Babylonian works, at all proud aſſailants of heaven, convinced that, long before the completion of their work, there ſhall be a confuſion of tongues, and the maſter and the labourers ſhall be ſcattered."

Nobody would laugh more than I at the arrogance of that phyſiognomiſt, who ſhould pretend to read in the countenance the moſt ſecret thoughts and motions of the ſoul, at any given moment, although there are moments, in which they are legible to the moſt unpractiſed phyſiognomiſt.

I am of opinion, likewiſe, the ſecrets of the heart belong to pathognomy, to which I direct my attention much leſs than to phyſiognomy; on which the author ſays, more wittily than truly, "It is as unneceſſary to write on as the art of love.

The author is very right in reminding us, "that we ought to ſeek phyſiognomonical inſtruction from known characters with great caution, and even diffidence."

Our author then ſays, "Whether phyſiognomy, in its utmoſt perfection would promote philanthropy, is at leaſt queſtionable."

I confidently anſwer unqueſtionable, and I hope immediately to induce the reaſonable and philanthropic author to ſay the ſame. Phyſiognomy, in its utmoſt perfection, muſt mean the knowledge of man in its utmoſt perfection. And ſhall not this promote the love of man? or, in other words, ſhall it not diſcover innumerable perfections, which the half phyſiognomiſt, or the unphyſiognomiſt, are unable to diſcover? Noble and penetrating friend of man, while writing this, you had forgotten what you had ſo truly, ſo beautifully ſaid, "that the moſt hateful deformity might, by the aid of virtue, acquire irreſiſtible charms." And to whom more irreſiſtible, more legible, than to the perfect phyſiognomiſt? irreſiſtible charms certainly promote not hatred, but love. From my own experience, I can ſincerely declare, that the improvement of my phyſiognomonical knowledge has extended and increaſed the power of love in my heart.

Though this knowledge may ſometimes occaſion affliction, ſtill it is ever true, that the affliction occaſioned by certain countenances, endears, ſanctifies, and renders enchanting whatever is noble and lovely, which often glows in the human countenance, like embers among aſhes. My attention to the diſcovery of this ſecret goodneſs is increaſed, and the object of my labours is its increaſe and improvement; and how do eſteem and love extend themſelves, wherever I perceive a preponderance of goodneſs! On a more accurate obſervation, the very countenances that afflict me, and which, for ſome moments, incenſe me againſt humanity, do but increaſe a tolerant and benevolent ſpirit; for I then diſcern the load, and the nature of that ſenſuality, againſt which they have to combat.

All truth, all knowledge of what is, of what acts upon us, and on which we act, promotes general and individual happineſs. Whoever denies this is incapable of inveſtigation. The more perfect this knowledge is, the greater are its advantages. Whatever profits, whatever promotes happineſs, promotes philanthropy. Where are happy men to be found without philanthropy? Are ſuch beings poſſible? Were happineſs and philanthropy to be deſtroyed or leſſened, by any perfect ſcience, truth would war with truth, and eternal wiſdom with itſelf.

The man who can ſeriouſly maintain, "that a perfect ſcience may be detrimental to human ſociety, or may not promote philanthropy, (without which happineſs among men cannot be ſuppoſed) is certainly not a man, in whoſe company our author would wiſh to philoſophize, as certainly will he, with me aſſume it as an axiom, that "the nearer truth, the nearer happineſs." The more our knowledge and judgment reſemble the knowledge and judgment of the Deity, the more will our philanthropy reſemble the philanthropy of the Deity. He who knows how man is formed, who remembers that he is but duſt, is the moſt tolerant friend of man.

Angels I believe to be better phyſiognomiſts, and more philanthropic, than men, although they may perceive in us a thouſand failings and imperfections, which may eſcape the moſt penetrating eye of man. God, having the moſt knowledge of ſpirit, is the moſt tolerant of ſpirits. And who was more tolerant, more affectionate, more lenient, more merciful than thou, who needeſt not that any ſhould teſtify of man, for thou kneweſt what was in man?

"It is certain, that the induſtrious, the inſinuating, and active blockheads in phyſiognomy may do much injury to ſociety."

And as certainly worthy Sir, it is my earneſt deſire, my known endeavour, to deter ſuch blockheads from ſtudying phyſiognomy. This evil can be prevented only by accurate obſervation. True it is, that every ſcience may become dangerous, when ſtudied by the ſuperficial and the fooliſh, and the very reverſe, when ſtudied by the accurate and the wiſe. According to your own principles, therefore, we muſt agree in this, that none but the ſuperficial, the blockhead, the fanatical enemy of knowledge and learning in general, can wiſh to prevent "all inveſtigation of phyſiognomonical principles;" none but ſuch a perſon "can oppoſe phyſiognomonical labours; none but a blockhead will ſuppoſe it unworthy and impracticable, in theſe [〈◊〉] days, to awaken ſenſibility, and the ſpirit [〈◊〉] obſervation, or to improve the arts, and the knowledge of men." To grant all this, as you, Sir, do, and yet to ſpeak with bitterneſs againſt phyſiognomy and phyſiognomiſts, I call ſowing tares among th[•] [〈◊〉] ſeed.

Our author next proceeds to diſtinguiſh between phyſiognomy and pathognomy. "Phyſiognomy (he defines to be) a capability of diſcovering the qualities of the mind and heart from the form and qualities of the external parts of the body, eſpecially the countenance, excluſive of all tranſitory ſigns of the motions of the mind; and pathognomy, the whole ſemeiotica of the paſſions, or the knowledge of the natural ſigns of the motions of the mind, according to all their gradations and combinations."

I entirely agree with this diſtinction, and likewiſe ſubſcribe to theſe given difinitions.

It is next aſked, is there phyſiognomy? Is there pathognomy? To the latter the author juſtly replies, "This no man ever yet denied, for what would all theatrical repreſentations be without it? The languages of all ages and nations abounds with pathognomonical remarks, and with which they are inſeparable interwoven."

However, after reading the work ſeveral times, I cannot diſcover whether the author does or does not grant the reality of phyſiognomy. In one paſſage, the author very excellently ſays, "No one will deny, that in a world where all things are cauſe and effect, and where miracles are not to be found, each part is a mirror of the whole. We are often able to conclude, from what is near to what is diſtant, from what is viſible to what is inviſible, from the preſent to the paſt and the future. Thus the hiſtory of the earth is written, in nature's characters, in the form of each tract of country, of its ſands, hills, and rocks. Thus each ſhell on the ſea-ſhore proclaims the once included mind, connected, like the mind of man, with this ſhell. Thus alſo might the internal of man be expreſſed, by the external, on the countenance, concerning which we particularly mean to ſpeak. Signs and traces of thought, inclination, and capacity muſt be perceptible. How viſible are the tokens impreſſed upon the body by trade and climate! Yet what are trade and climate compared to the ever active ſoul, created in every fibre, of whoſe abſolute legibility from all and to all no one doubts?"

From all mankind, rather than from the writer of this very excellent paſſage, ſhould I have expected the following: "What! the phyſiognomiſt will exclaim, can the ſoul of a Newton reſide in the head of a Negro, or an angelic mind in a fiend-like form?"

As little could I have expected this paſſage:—"Talents and the endowments of the mind, in general, are not expreſſed by any ſigns in the firm parts of the head."

I have never in my life met with any thing more contradictory to nature, and to each other, than the foregoing and the following paragraphs:

"If a pea were thrown into the Mediterranean, an eye more piercing than ours, though infinitely leſs penetrating than the eye of him who ſees all things, might perceive the effects produced on the coaſt of China." Theſe are our author's very words.

And ſhall the whole living powers of the ſoul, "creative in every fibre," have no determinate influence on the firm parts, thoſe boundaries of its activity, which firſt were yielding, and acted upon, impreſſed, by every muſcle; which reſemble each other in no human body, which are as various as characters and talents, and are as certainly different as the moſt flexible parts of man? Shall the whole powers of the ſoul, I ſay, have no determinate influence on theſe, or not by theſe be defined?

In order to avoid the future imputation of indulging the ſhallow ſtream of youthful declamation, inſtead of producing facts, and principles deduced from experience, let us oppoſe experience to declamation, and facts to ſubtleties. But firſt a word, that we may perfectly remove a degree of ambiguity, which I ſhould not have expected from the accuracy of a mathematician.

"Why not, (aſks our author) why not the ſoul of Newton in the head of a Negro? Why not an angel mind in a fiend-like form? Who, reptile! empowered thee to judge of the works of God?"

Let us be rightly underſtood. We do not ſpeak here of what God can do, but of what is to be expected from the knowledge we have of his works. We aſk what the Author of order actually does, and not whether the ſoul of Newton can exiſt in the body of a Negro, or an angelic ſoul in a fiend-like form. The phyſiognomonical queſtion is, can an angle's ſoul act the ſame in a fiend-like body as in an angelic body? or, in other words, could the mind of Newton have invented the theory of light, reſiding in the head of a Negro, thus and thus defined? Such is the queſtion.

Will you, Sir, who are the friend of truth, will you anſwer, it might? You, who have previouſly ſaid of the world, "all things in it are cauſe and effect, and miracles are not to be found."

I ſhould indeed be a reptile, judging the works of God, did I maintain its poſſibility by miracle; but the queſtion, at preſent, is not concerning miracles; it is concerning natural cauſe and effect.

Having thus clearly ſtated the argument, permit me, Sir, to decide it, by quoting your own words: "Judas ſcarely could be that dirty, deformed mendicant painted by Holbein. No hypocrite, who aſſociates with the good, betrays with a kiſs, and afterwards hangs himſelf, has the look of Holbein's Judas. My experience leads me to ſuppoſe Judas muſt have been diſtinguiſhed by an inſinuating countenance, and an ever-ready ſmile."

How true! how excellent! yet what if I were to exclaim, "Who empowered thee, reptile! to judge of the work of God?" What if I were to retort the following juſt remark, "Tell me firſt, why a virtuous mind is ſo often doomed to exiſt in an infirm body? Might not alſo, were it God's good pleaſure, a virtuous man have a countenance like the beggarly Jew of Holbein, or any other that can be imagined?"

Can this, however, be called wiſe or manly reaſoning? How wide is the difference between ſuffering and diſguſting virtue? or, is it logical to deduce that, becauſe virtue may ſuffer, virtue may be diſguſtful? Is not ſuffering eſſential to virtue? To aſk why virtue muſt ſuffer, is equivalent to aſking why God has decreed that virtue ſhould exiſt. Is it alike incongruous to admit that virtue ſuffers, and that virtue looks like vice? Virtue void of conflict, of ſuffering, or of ſelf-denial, is not virtue accurately conſidered; therefore it is folly to aſk, why muſt the virtuous ſuffer? It is in the nature of things; but it is not in the nature of things, not in the relation of cauſe and effect, that virtues ſhould look like vice, or wiſdom like fooliſhneſs. How, good Sir, could you forget what you have ſo expreſſively ſaid, "There is no durable beauty without virtue, and the moſt hateful deformity may, by the aid of virtue, acquire the moſt irreſiſtible charms? The author is acquainted with ſeveral women, whoſe example might inſpire the moſt ugly with hope."

What may be the infirmities of the virtuous we do not inquire, nor whether a man of genius may not become a fool; we aſk, whether virtue, while exiſting, can look like preſent vice, or actual folly, like actual wiſdom? You Sir, who are ſo profound an inquirer into the nature of man, will certainly never grant, (who, indeed, will?) that the ſoul of the beloved diſciple of Chriſt, could, without a miracle, reſide in the dirty, deformed mendicant, the beggarly Jew of Holbein, and act as freely in that as in any other body. Will you, Sir, continue to rank yourſelf, in your philoſophical reſearches, with thoſe, who having maintained ſuch ſenſeleſs propoſitions, rid themſelves of all difficulties by aſking, "Who impowered thee, reptile! to judge of the works of God?"

Let us proceed to examine a few more paſſages.

"Our ſenſes acquaint us only with the ſuperficies, from which all deductions are made. This is not very favourable to phyſiognomy, for which ſomething more definite is requiſite, ſince this reading of the ſuperficies is the ſource of all our errors, and frequently of our ignorance."

So it is with us in nature; we abſolutely can read nothing more than the ſuperficies. In a world devoid of miracles, the external ever muſt have a relation to the internal; and, could we prove all reading of the ſuperficies to be falſe, what ſhould we effect but the deſtruction of all human knowledge. All our inquiries produce only new ſuperficies. All our truth muſt be the truth of the ſuperficies. It is not the reading of the ſuperficies that is the ſource of all our error; for, if ſo, we ſhould have not truth; but the not reading, or which is the ſame in effect, the not rightly reading.

If "a pea thrown into the Mediterranean ſea would effect a change in the ſuperficies, which ſhould extend to the coaſt of China," any error that we might commit, in our concluſions concerning the action of this pea, would not be becauſe we read only the ſuperficies, but becauſe we cannot read the ſuperficies.

"That we can only read the ſuperficies is not very favourable to phyſiognomy, for which ſomething more definite is requiſite." Something more definite we have continually endeavoured to give, and wiſh to hear the objections of acute inquirers. But let facts be oppoſed to facts. Does not our author, by the expreſſion, "ſince the internal is impreſſed upon the external," ſeem to grant the poſſibility of this impreſſion? And if ſo, does not the ſuperficies become the index of the internal? Does he not thereby grant the phyſiognomy of the firm parts?

He proceeds to aſk, "If the internal be impreſſed upon the external, is the impreſſion to be diſcovered by the eyes of men?" Dare I truſt my eyes, that I have read ſuch a paſſage in the writings of a philoſopher!

We certainly ſee what we ſee. Be the object there, or be it not, the queſtion ever muſt be, do we or do we not ſee? That we do ſee, and that the author, whenever he pleaſes, ſees alſo, his eſſay is a proof, as are his other works. Be this as it may, I know not what would become of all our philoſophers and philoſophy, were we, at every new diſcovery of things, or the relation of things, to aſk, was this thing placed there to be diſcovered? With what degree of ridicule would our witty author treat the man who ſhould endeavour to render aſtronomy contemptible by aſking, "Though the wiſdom of God is manifeſt in the ſtars, were the ſtars placed there to be diſcovered?" "Muſt not ſigns and effects, which we do not ſeek, conceal and render thoſe erroneous of which we are in ſearch?"

The ſigns we ſeek are manifeſt, and may be known: they are the terminations of cauſes, therefore effects, therefore phyſiognomonical expreſſions. The philoſopher is an obſerver, an obſerver of that which is ſought, or not ſought. He ſees, and muſt ſee, that which preſents itſelf to his eyes; and that which preſents itſelf is the ſymbol of ſomething that does not preſent itſelf. What he ſees can only miſlead him when he does not ſee rightly. If the concluſion be true, "that ſigns and effects which we do not ſeek muſt conceal, and render erroneous thoſe of which we are in ſearch," then ought we to ſeek no ſigns and effects, and thus all ſciences vaniſh.

I have reaſon to hope, that a perſon of ſo much learning as is our author, would not ſacrifice all human ſciences for the ſole purpoſe of heaping phyſiognomy on the pile. I grant the poſſibility and facility of error is there; and this ſhould teach us circumſpection, ſhould teach us to ſee the thing that is, without the addition of any thing that is not. But to wiſh, by any pretence, to divert us from ſeeing and obſerving, and to render inquiry contemptible, whether with rude or refined wit, would be the moſt ridiculous of all fanaticiſm. Such ridicule, in the mouth of a profeſſed enemy of falſe philoſophers, would be as vapid as falſe. I am indeed perſuaded that my antagoniſt is only in jeſt.

"Were the growth of the body (ſays the author) in the moſt pure of atmoſpheres, and modified only by the emotions of the mind, undiſturbed by any external power, the ruling paſſion, and the prevailing talent, I allow, might produce, according to their different gradations, different forms of countenance, like as different ſalts cryſtalize in different forms, when obſtructed by no impediment. But is the body influenced by the mind alone, or is it not rather expoſed to all the impulſes of various contradictory powers, the laws of which it is obliged to obey? Thus each mineral, in its pureſt ſtate, has its peculiar form; but the anomalies which its combination with others occaſions, and the accidents to which it is ſubjected, often cauſe the moſt experienced to err, when they would diſtinguiſh it by its form."

What a ſimile! Salts and minerals compared to an organized body, internally animate! A grain of ſalt, which the leaſt particle of water will inſtantaneouſly melt, to the human ſcull, which has defied misfortunes, and millions of external impreſſions for centuries? Doſt not thou bluſh, Philoſophy? Not to confine ourſelves to the organization of the ſculls of men and other animals, do we find that even plants, which have not the internal reſiſtance, the elaſticity of men, and which are expoſed to millions of counteracting impreſſions from light, air, and other bodies, ever change their form, in in conſequence of ſuch cauſes? Which of them is ever miſtaken for another by the botaniſt. The moſt violent accidents ſcarcely could effect ſuch a change, ſo long as they ſhould preſerve their organization.

"Thus is the body mutually acted upon by the mind and external cauſes, and manifeſts not only our inclinations and capacities, but alſo the effects of misfortune, climate, diſeaſes, food, and thouſands of inconveniences to which we are ſubjected, not always in conſequence of our vice, but often by accidents, and ſometimes by our virtues."

Who would, who can, deny this? But is the foregoing queſtion hereby anſwered? We are to attend to that. Does not our eſſayeſt himſelf ſay, "the body is acted upon by the mind and external cauſes?" Therefore not by external cauſes alone. May it not equally be affected by the internal energy, or inactivity of the mind? What are we contending for? Has it not (if indeed the author be in earneſt) the appearance of ſophiſtry [〈◊〉] oppoſe external to internal effects, and yet own the body is acted upon by both? And will you, Sir, acute and wiſe as you are, maintain that [•••]fortune can change a wiſe, a round, and an [〈◊〉], into a cylindrical forehead; one that is lengthened into one that is ſquare; or the projecting into [〈◊◊〉] retreating chin? Who can ſeriouſly believe and affirm, that Charles XIV. Henry IV. and Charles V. men who were undoubtedly ſubject to misfortunes, if ever men were, thereby acquired another form of countenance, (we ſpeak of the firm parts, not of ſcars) and which forms denoted a different character to what each poſſeſſed previous to ſuch misfortunes? Who will maintain, that the noſes of Charles XII. or Henry IV. denoting power of mind, previous to their reverſe of fortune, the one at Pultawa, the other by the hand of Ravaillac, ſuffered any change, and were debaſed to the inſignificant pointed noſe of a girl? Nature acts from within upon the bones; accident and ſuffering act on the nerves, muſcles, and ſkin. If any accident attack the bones; who is ſo blind as not to remark ſuch phyſical violence? The ſigns of misfortune are either ſtrong or feeble: when they are feeble, they are effaced by the ſuperior ſtrength and power of nature; when ſtrong, they are too viſible to deceive, and by their ſtrength and viſibility warn the phyſiognomiſt not to ſuppoſe them the features of nature. By the phyſiognomiſt I mean the unprejudiced obſerver, who alone is the real phyſiognomiſt, and has a right to decide; not the man of ſubtlety, who is wilfully blind to experience.

"Are the defects, which I remark in an image of wax, always the defects of the artiſt, or are they not the conſequences of unſkilful handling, the ſun's heat or the warmth of the room."

Nothing, dear friend of truth, is more eaſy to remark, in an image of wax, than the original hand of the maſter, although it ſhould, by improper handling, accidental preſſure, or melting, be injured. This example, Sir, militates againſt yourſelf. If the hand of the maſter be viſible in an image of wax, where it is ſo eaſily defaced, how much more perceptible muſt accident be in an organized body, ſo individually permanent? Inſtead of an image of wax, the ſimile, in my opinion, would be improved were we to ſubſtitute a ſtatue; and in this every connoiſſeur can diſtinguiſh what has been broken, chopped, or filed off, as well as what has been added by a later hand. And why ſhould not this be known in man? Why ſhould not the original form of man be more diſtinguiſhable, in deſpite of accident, than the beauty and workmanſhip of an excellent ſtatue which has been defaced?

"Does the mind, like an elaſtic fluid, always aſſume the form of the body? And if a flat noſe were the ſign of envy, muſt a man, whoſe noſe by accident ſhould be flattened, conſequently become envious?"

The inquirer will gain but little, be this queſtion anſwered in the negative or affirmative. What is gained were we to anſwer, "Yes; the ſoul is an elaſtic fluid, which always takes the form of the body?" Would it thence follow that the flattened noſe has loſt ſo much of its elaſticity, as would be neceſſary to propel the noſe? or where would be the advantage ſhould we reply, "No; all ſuch compariſons are inſignificant, except to elucidate certain caſes: we muſt appeal only to facts."

But what would be anſwered to a leſs ſubtle and more ſimple queſtion? Is there no example of the mind being injured by the maiming of the body? Has not a fractured ſcull, by compreſſing the brain, injured the underſtanding? Does not caſtration render the male half female?—But to anſwer wit with reaſon, ſays a witty writer, is like endeavouring to hold an eel by the tail.

We wholly ſubſcribe to the affirmation, that "it is abſurd to [〈◊〉] the moſt beautiful mind is to be found in the moſt beautiful body, and the moſt deformed mind in the moſt deformed body."

We have already explained ourſelves ſo amply on this ſubject, that being ſuppoſed to hold a contrary opinion appears incomprehenſible. We only ſay, there is a proportion and beauty of body, which is more capable of ſuperior virtue, ſenſibility, and action, than the diſproportionate. We ſay with the author, "Virtue beautifies, vice deforms." We moſt cordially grant, that honeſty may be found in the moſt ugly, and vice in men of the moſt beautiful forms.

We however, differ from him, concerning the following aſſertion: "Our languages are exceedingly barren of phyſiognomonical terms. Were it a true ſcience, the language of the vulgar would have been proverbially rich in its terms. The noſe occurs in a hundred proverbs and phraſes, but always pathognomonically, denoting paſt action, but never phyſiognomonically, betokening character or diſpoſition."

Inſtead of a hundred, I am acquainted with only one ſuch phraſe, naſen rumfe, to turn up the noſe. Homo obeſae, obtuſae naris, ſaid the ancients; and had they not ſaid it, what could thence have been adduced, ſince we can prove à poſteriori, that the noſe is a phyſiognomonical ſign of character?

I have neither the learning nor the inclination to cite ſufficient proofs of the contrary from Home[•], Suetonius, Marſhal, and an hundred others. That which is, is, whether perceived by the ancients or not. Such duſt might blind a ſchool-boy, but not the eyes of a ſage, who ſees for himſelf, and who knows that each age has its meaſure of diſcovery, and that there are thoſe who fail not to exclaim againſt all diſcoveries which were not made by the ancients.

"I ſhould be glad to know (ſays our author) not what man may become, but what he is?"

I muſt confeſs that I wiſh to know both. Many vicious men reſemble valuable paintings, which have been deſtroyed by varniſh. Would you pay no attention to ſuch a painting! Is it wholly unworthy of you, though a connoiſſeur ſhould aſſure you, the picture is damaged; but there is a poſſibility of clearing away the varniſh, as this maſter's colours are ſo ſtrongly laid on, and ſo eſſentially good, that no varniſh can penetrate deep enough, if we are but careful in bringing it away not to injure the picture? Is this of no importance? You obſerve the ſmalleſt change of poſition in the polar ſtar. Days are dedicated to examine how many ages ſhall elapſe before it will arrive at the neareſt point of approach. I do not deſpiſe your labours. But is it of no importance to you, to fathers, mothers, guardians, teachers, friends, and ſtateſmen, to inquire what a man may become, or what muſt be expected from this or that youth, thus and thus formed and educated? Many fooliſh people are like excellent watches, which would go well, were the regulator but rectified.

Is the goodneſs of the mechaniſm of no conſequence to you, although a ſkilful watchmaker ſhould tell you, this was, and is, an excellent piece of workmanſhip, infinitely better than that which you ſee ſet with brilliants, which, I grant, will go well for a quarter of a year, but will then ſtop! Clean this, repair it, and ſtraighten the teeth of this ſmall wheel. Is this advice of no importance? Will you not be informed what it might have been, what it may yet probably be? Will you not hear of a treaſure that lies buried, and, while buried, I own uſeleſs; but will you content yourſelf with the trifling intereſt ariſing from this, or that ſmall ſum?

Do you pay attention only to the fruit of the preſent year, and which is perhaps forced? And do you neglect the goodneſs of a tree, which, with attention may bring forth a thouſand fold, though, under certain circumſtances, it may yet have brought forth none! Have the hot blaſts of the ſouth parched up its black leaves, or has the ſtorm blown down its half-ripened fruit, and will you therefore not inquire whether the root does not ſtill remain undeſtroyed?

I feel I grow weary, and perhaps weary others, eſpecially as I am more and more convinced, that our pleaſant author, at leaſt hitherto, meant only to amuſe himſelf. I ſhall therefore only produce two more contradictions, which ought not to have eſcaped the author, and ſcarcely can eſcape any thinking reader.

In one place, he very excellently ſays, "Pathognomonical ſigns, often repeated, are not always entirely effaced, but leave phyſiognomonical impreſſions. Hence originate the lines of folly, ever gaping, ever admiring, nothing underſtanding; hence the traits of hypocriſy; hence the hollowed cheek, the wrinkles of obſtinacy, and heaven knows how many other wrinkles. Pathognomonical diſtortion, which accompanies the practice of vice, will likewiſe, in conſequence of the diſeaſe it produces, become more diſtorted and hateful. Thus may the pathognomonical expreſſion of friendſhip, compaſſion, ſincerity, piety, and other moral beauties, become bodily beauty to ſuch as can perceive and admire theſe qualities. On this is founded the phyſiognomy of Gellert, which is the only true part of phyſiognomy. This is of infinite advantage to virtue, and is comprehended in a few words, "virtue beautifies, vice deform[•]"

The branch therefore hath effect, the root none: the fruit has phyſiognomy, the tree none; the laugh of ſelf-ſufficient vanity may, therefore, ariſe from the moſt humble of hearts, and the appearance of folly from the perfection of wiſdom. The wrinkles of hypocriſy, therefore, are not the reſult of any internal power or weakneſs. The author will always fix our attention on the dial-plate, and will never ſpeak of the power of the watch itſelf. But take away the dial-plate, and ſtill the hand will go. Take away thoſe pathognomonical traits, which diſſimulation ſometimes can effect, and the internal power of impulſe will remain. How contradictory therefore is it to ſay, the traits of folly are there, but not the character of folly, the drop of water is viſible, but the fountain, the ocean, is not!

Again. It is certainly incongruous to ſay, "There is pathognomy, but this is as unneceſſary (to be written) as an act of love. It chiefly conſiſts in the motion of the muſcles of the countenance and the eyes, and is learned by all men. To teach this would be like an attempt to number the ſands of the ſea!"

Yet the author, in the very next page, with great acuteneſs, begins to teach pathognomy, by explaining twelve of the countenances of Chodowiecki, in which how much is there included of the ſcience of phyſiognomy!

Permit me now, my worthy antagoniſt, yet no longer antagoniſt, but friend, convinced by truth and the love of truth, I ſay, permit me to tranſcribe, in one continued quotation, ſome of your excellent thoughts and remarks from your eſſay, and elucidations on the countenances of Chodowiecki, part of which have been already cited in this fragment, and part not. I am convinced they will be agreeable to my readers.

"Our judgment concerning countenances frequently acquires certainty, not from phyſiognomonical nor pathognomonical ſigns, but from the traces of recent actions, which men cannot ſhake off. Debauchery, avarice, beggary, have each their livery, by which they are as well known as the ſoldier by his uniform, or the chimney-ſweeper by his ſooty jacket. The addition of a trifling expletive in diſcourſe will betray the badneſs of education; and the manner of putting on the hat what is the company we keep, and what the degree of our folly."

Suffer me here to add, ſhall not then the whole form of man diſcover any thing of his talents and diſpoſition! Can the moſt milky candour here forget the ſtraining at a gnat and ſwallowing a camel!

"Maniacs will often not be known to be diſordered in their ſenſes, if not in action. More will often be diſcovered, concerning what a man really is, by his dreſs, behaviour, and mode of paying his compliments at his firſt viſit and introduction, in a ſingle quarter of an hour, than in all the time he ſhall remain.—(By unphyſiognomonical eyes, permit me to add.) Cleanlineſs and ſimplicity of manner will often conceal paſſions.

"Nothing, often, is to be ſurmiſed from the countenances of the moſt dangerous men. Their thoughts are all concealed under an appearance of melancholy. Whoever has not remarked this, is unacquainted with mankind. The heart of the vicious man is always leſs eaſy to be read, the better his education has been, the more ambition he has, and the better the company he has been accuſtomed to keep.

"Cowardice and vanity, governed by an inclination to pleaſure and indolence, are not—(ſometimes) marked with ſtrength equivalent to the miſchief they occaſion; while, on the contrary, fortitude in defence of juſtice, againſt all opponents whatever, be their rank and influence what it may, and the conſcious feelings of real ſelf-worth often, look very dangerous, eſpecially when unaccompanied by a ſmiling mouth.

"Specious as the objections brought by the ſophiſtry of the ſenſual may be, it is notwithſtanding certain that there is no poſſible durable beauty without virtue, and the moſt hateful deformity may, by the aid of virtue, acquire irreſiſtible charms. Examples of ſuch perfections, among perſons of both ſexes, I own are uncommon, but not more ſo than heavenly ſincerity, modeſt compliance, without ſelf-degradation, univerſal philanthropy, without buſy intruſion, a love of order without being minute, or neatneſs without foppery, which are the virtues that produce ſuch irreſiſtible charms.

"Vice, in like manner, in perſons yielding to its influence, may highly deform; eſpecially when, in conſequence of bad education, and want of knowledge of the traits of moral beauty, or of will to aſſume them, the vicious may find no day, no hour, in which to repair the ravages of vice.

"Who will not liſten to the mouth, in which no trait, no ſhade of falſehood is diſcoverable? Let it preach the experience of what wiſdom, what ſcience it may, comfort will ever be the harbinger of ſuch a phyſician, and confidence haſten to welcome his approach.

"One of the moſt hateful objects in the creation, ſays a certain writer, is a vicious and deformed old woman. We may alſo ſay, that the virtuous matron, in whoſe countenance goodneſs and the ardour of benevolence are conſpicuous, is an object moſt worthy our reverence. Age never deforms the countenance, when the mind dares appear unmaſked: it only [••]ars off the freſh varniſh, under which coquetry, vanity, and vice were concealed. Wherever age is excedingly deformed, the ſame deformity would have been viſible in youth, to the attentive obſerver.

"This is not difficult, and were men to act from conviction, inſtead of flattering themſelves with the hope of fortunate accidents, happy marriages would be more frequent; and as Shakeſpeare ſays, the bonds which ſhould unite hearts would not ſo often ſtrangle temporal happineſs."

This is ſpeaking to the heart. Oh! that I could have written my fragments in company with ſuch an obſerver! Who could have rendered greater ſervices to phyſiognomy than the man who, with the genius of a mathematician, poſſeſſes ſo accurate a ſpirit of obſervation?

CHAPTER XXXII.

Deſcription of Plate V.

Number 1.

WILLIAM HONDIUS, a Dutch engraver, after Vandyck. We here ſee mild, languid, ſlow induſtry, with enterprizing, daring, conſcious heroiſm. This forehead is rounded, not indeed common nor ignoble. The eyebrows are curved, the eyes languid and ſinking, and the whole countenance oval, ductile, and maidenly.

Number 2.

This head, if not ſtupid, is at leaſt common; if not rude, clumſy. I grant it is a caricature, yet, however, there is ſomething ſharp and fine in the eye and mouth, which a connoiſſeur will diſcover.

Number 3.

This is manifeſtly a Turk, by the arching and poſition of the forehead, the hind part of the head, the eyebrows, and particularly the noſe. The aſpect is that of obſervation, with a degree of curioſity. The open mouth denotes remarking, with ſome reflexion.

Number 4.

It muſt be a depraved taſte which can call this graceful, and therefore it muſt be far from majeſtic. I ſhould neither wiſh a wife, mother, ſiſter, friend, relation, or goddeſs, to poſſeſs a countenance ſo cold, inſipid, affected, ſtony, unimpaſſioned, or ſo perfectly a ſtatue.

Number 5.

The ſtrong grimace of an impotent madman,

who diſtorts himſelf without meaning. In the eye is neither attention, fury, littleneſs, nor greatneſs.

Number 6.

The eyes in this head are benevolently ſtupid. Whereſoever ſo much white is ſeen as in the left eye, if in company with ſuch a mouth, there is ſeldom much wiſdom.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

General Remarks on Women.

I Muſt premiſe, that I am but little acquainted with the female part of the human race. Any man of the world muſt know more of them than I can pretend to know. My opportunities of ſeeing them at the theatre, at balls, or at the card-table, where they beſt may be ſtudied, have been exceedingly few. In my youth, I almoſt avoided women, and was never in love.

Perhaps I ought, for this very reaſon, to have left this very important part of phyſiognomy to one much better informed, having myſelf ſo little knowledge of the fair ſex. Yet might not ſuch neglect have been dangerous? Might another have treated the ſubject in the manner which I could wiſh? or, would he have ſaid the little I have to ſay, and which, though little, I eſteem to be neceſſary and important?

I frequently ſhudder while I think how exceſſively, how contrary to my intention, the ſtudy of phyſiognomy may be abuſed, when applied to women. Phyſiognomy will perhaps fare no better than philoſophy, poetry, phyſic, or whatever may be termed art or ſcience. A little philoſophy leads to atheiſm, and much to Chriſtianity. Thus muſt it be with phyſiognomy. But I will not be diſcouraged; the half precedes the whole. We learn to walk by falling, and ſhall we forbear to walk leſt we ſhould fall?

I can with certainty ſay, that true pure phyſiognomonical ſenſation, in reſpect to the female ſex, beſt can ſeaſon and improve life, and is the moſt effectual preſervative againſt the degradation of ourſelves or others.

Beſt can ſeaſon and improve human life.—What better can temper manly rudeneſs, or ſtrengthen and ſupport the weakneſs of man, what ſo ſoon can aſſuage the rapid blaze of wrath, what more charm maſculine power, what ſo quickly diſſipate peeviſhneſs and ill temper, what ſo well can wile away the inſipid tedious hours of life, as the near and affectionate look of a noble, beautiful woman? What is ſo ſtrong as her ſoft delicate hand? What ſo perſuaſive as her tears reſtrained? Who but beholding her muſt ceaſe to ſin? How can the ſpirit of God act more omnipotently upon the heart, than by the extending and increaſing phyſiognomonical ſenſation for ſuch an eloquent countenance? What ſo well can ſeaſon daily inſipididity? I ſcarcely can conceive a gift of more paternal and divine benevolence!

This has ſweetened every bitter of my life, this alone has ſupported me under the moſt corroding cares, when the ſorrows of a burſting heart wanted vent. My eyes ſwam in tears, and my ſpirit groaned with anguiſh. Then when men have daily aſked, "where is now thy God?" when they rejected the ſympathy, the affection of my ſoul, with rude contemptuous ſcorn; when acts of honeſt ſimplicity were [〈◊〉], and the ſacred impulſe of conſcious truth was ridiculed, hiſſed at, and deſpiſed; in thoſe burning moments, when the world afforded no comfort, even then did the Almighty open mine eyes, even then did he give me an unfailing ſource of joy, contained in a gentle, tender, but internally firm, female mind; an aſpect like that of unpractiſed, cloiſtered virginity, which felt, and was able to efface each motion, each paſſion, in the moſt concealed feature of her huſband's countenance, and who, by thoſe means, without any thing of what the world calls beauty, ſhone forth beauteous as an angel. Can there be a more noble or important practice than that of a phyſiognomonical ſenſation for beauties ſo captivating, ſo excellent as theſe.

This phyſiognomonical ſenſation is the moſt effectual preſervative againſt the degradation of ourſelves and others. What can more readily diſcover the boundary between appetite and affection, or cunning under the maſk of ſenſibility? What ſooner can diſtinguiſh deſire from love, or love from friendſhip? What can more reverently, internally, and profoundly feel the ſanctity of innocence, the divinity of maiden purity, or ſooner detect coquetry unbleſſed, with wiles affecting every look of modeſty? How often will ſuch a phyſiognomiſt turn contemptuous from the beauties moſt adored, from the wretched pride of their ſilence, their meaſured affectation of ſpeech, the inſipidity of their eyes, arrogantly overlooking miſery and poverty, their authoritative noſe, their languid, unmeaning lips, relaxed by contempt, blue with envy, and half bitten through by artifice and malice! The obviouſneſs of theſe and many others will preſerve him, who can ſee from the dangerous charms of their ſhameleſs boſom! How fully convinced is the man of pure phyſiognomonical ſenſation, that he cannot be more degraded than by ſuffering himſelf to be enſnared by ſuch a countenance! Be this one proof among a thouſand.

But if a noble, ſpotleſs maiden but appear; all innocence and all ſoul; all love, and of love all worthy, which muſt as ſuddenly be felt as ſhe manifeſtly feels; if in her large arched forehead all the capacity of immeaſurable intelligence which wiſdom can communicate be viſible; if her compreſſed but not frowning eyebrows ſpeak an unexplored mine of underſtanding, or her gentle outlined or ſharpened noſe, refined taſte, with ſympathetic goodneſs of heart, which flows through the clear teeth, over her pure and efficient lips; if ſhe breathe humility and complacency; if condeſcenſion and mildneſs be in each motion of her mouth, dignified wiſdom in each tone of her voice; if her eyes, neither too open nor too cloſe, but looking ſtraight forward, or gently turned, ſpeak the ſoul that ſeeks a ſiſterly embrace; if ſhe be ſuperior to all the powers of deſcription; if all the glories of her angelic form be imbibed like the mild and golden rays of an autumnal evening ſun; may not then theſe ſo highly prized phyſiognomonical ſenſations be a deſtructive ſnare or ſin, or both?

"If thine eye be ſingle, thy whole body ſhall be full of light, as when the bright ſhining of a candle doth give thee light." And what is phyſiognomonical ſenſations but this ſingleneſs of eye? The ſoul is not to be ſeen without the body, but in the body; and the more it is thus ſeen, the more ſacred to thee will the body be. What! man having this ſenſation, which God has beſtowed, wouldſt thou violate the ſanctuary of God? Would thou degrade, defame, debilitate and deprive it of ſenſibility? Shall he whom a good or great countenance does not inſpire with reverence and love, incapable of offence, ſpeak of phyſiognomonical ſenſation; of that which is the revelation of the ſpirit? Nothing maintains chaſtity ſo entire, nothing ſo truly preſerves the thoughts from brutal paſſion, nothing ſo reciprocally exalts ſouls, when they are mutually held in ſacred purity. The contemplation of power awakens reverence, and the picture of love inſpires love; not ſelfiſh gratification, but that pure paſſion with which ſpirits of heaven embrace.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

General Remarks on Male and Female.—A Word on the Phyſiognomonical Relation of the Sexes.

GENERALLY ſpeaking, how much more pure, tender, delicate, irritable, affectionate, flexible, and patient, is woman than man! The primary matter of which they are conſtituted appears to be more flexible, irritable, and elaſtic, than that of man. They are formed to maternal mildneſs and affection. All their organs are tender, yielding, eaſily wounded, ſenſible, and receptible.

Among a thouſand females there is ſcarcely one without the generic feminine ſigns, the flexible, the circular, and the irritable. They are the counterpart of man, taken out of man, to be ſubject to man; to comfort him like angels, and to lighten his cares. "She ſhall be ſaved in child-bearing, if they continue in faith, and charity, and holineſs, with ſobriety." (1 Tim. ii. 15.)

This tenderneſs and ſenſibility, this light texture of their fibres and organs, this volatility of feeling render them ſo eaſy to conduct and to tempt; ſo ready of ſubmiſſion to the enterprize and power of the man; but more powerful through the aid of their charms than man, with all his ſtrength. The man was not firſt tempted, but the woman, afterwards the man by the woman. And not only eaſily to be tempted, ſhe is capable of being formed to the pureſt, nobleſt, moſt ſeraphic virtue; to every thing which deſerve praiſe or affection.

Highly ſenſible of purity, beauty and ſymmetry, ſhe does not always take time to reflect on internal life, internal death, internal corruption. "The woman ſaw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleaſant to the eyes and a tree to be deſired to make one wiſe, and ſhe took of the fruit thereof."

The female thinks not profoundly; profound thought is the power of the man. Women feel more: ſenſibility is the power of the woman. They often rule more effectually, more ſovereignly than man. They rule with tender looks, tears, and ſighs, but not with paſſion and threats; for, if they ſo rule, they are no longer women, but abortions.

They are capable of the ſweeteſt ſenſibility, the moſt profound emotion, the utmoſt humility, and the exceſs of enthuſiaſm. In their countenance are the ſigns of ſanctity and inviolability, which every feeling man honours, and the effects of which are often miraculous. Therefore, by the irritability of their nerves, their incapacity for deep inquiry and firm deciſion, they may eaſily, from their extreme ſenſibility, become the moſt irreclaimable, the moſt rapturous enthuſiaſts.

The love of woman, ſtrong and rooted as it is, is very changeable; their hatred almoſt incurable, and only to be effaced by continued and artful flattery. Men are moſt profound, women are more ſublime. Men moſt embrace the whole; women remark individually, and take more delight in ſelecting the minutiae which form the whole. Man hears the burſting thunders, views the deſtructive bolt with ſerene aſpect, and ſtands erect amidſt the fearful majeſty of the ſtreaming clouds. Woman trembles at the lightning and the voice of diſtant thunder, and ſhrinks into herſelf, or ſinks into the arms of man.

A ray of light is ſingly received by man, woman delights to view it through a priſm, in all its dazzling colours. She contemplates the rainbow as the promiſe of peace; [•]e extends his inquiring eye over the whole horizon.

Woman laughs, man ſmiles; woman weeps, man remains ſilent. Woman is in anguiſh when man weeps, and in deſpair when man is in anguiſh; yet has ſhe often more faith than man. Without religion, man is a diſeaſed creature, who would perſuade himſelf he is well, and needs not a phyſician: but woman, without religion, is raging and monſtrous. A woman with a beard is not ſo diſguſting as a woman who acts the free-thinker; her ſex is formed to piety and religion. To them Chriſt firſt appeared; but he was obliged to prevent them from too ardently and too haſtily embracing him.—Touch me not. They are prompt to receive and ſeize novelty, and become its enthuſiaſts.

In the preſence and proximity of him they love, the whole world is forgotten. They ſink into the moſt incurable melancholy, as they riſe to the moſt enraptured heights.

There is more imagination in male ſenſation, in the female more heart. When communicative, they are more communicative than man; when ſecret, more ſecret. In general they are more patient, long-ſuffering, credulous, benevolent, and modeſt.

Woman is not a foundation on which to build. She is the gold, ſilver, precious ſtones, wood, [•]ay, ſtubble; (1 Cor. iii. 12.) the materials for building on the male foundation. She is the leaven, or, more expreſſively the oil to the vinegar of man; the ſecond part to the book of man. Man ſingly, is but half a man, at leaſt but half human; a king without a kingdom. Woman, who feels properly what ſhe is, whether ſtill or in motion, reſts upon the man; nor is man what he may and ought to be but in conjunction with woman. Therefore "it is not good that man ſhould be alone, but that he ſhould leave father and mother and cleave to his wife, and that they two ſhall be one fleſh."

A Word on the phyſiognomonical Relation of the Sexes.

• Man is the moſt firm, woman the moſt flexible.
• Man is the ſtraighteſt, woman the moſt bending.
• Man ſtands ſtedfaſt, woman gently retreats.
• Man ſurveys and obſerves, woman glances and feels.
• Man is ſerious, woman is gay.
• Man is the talleſt and broadeſt, woman the ſmalleſt and weakeſt.
• Man is rough and hard, woman is ſmooth and ſoft.
• Man is brown, woman is fair.
• Man is wrinkly, woman is not.
• The hair of man is ſtrong and ſhort, of woman more long and pliant.
• The eyebrows of man are compreſſed, of woman leſs frowning.
• Man has moſt convex lines, woman moſt concave.
• Man has moſt ſtraight lines, woman moſt curved.
• The countenance of man, taken in profile, is not ſo often perpendicular as that of the woman.
• Man is moſt angular, woman moſt round.

CHAPTER XXXV.

On the Phyſiognomy of Youth. Extracts from Zimmermann's Life of Haller.

"THE firſt years of the youth include the hiſtory of the man. They develope the qualities of the ſoul, the materials of future conduct, and the true features of temperament. In riper years diſſimulation prevails, or, at leaſt, that modification of our thoughts, which is the conſequence of experience and knowledge.

"The characteriſtics of the paſſions, which are undeniably diſcovered to us by the peculiar art denominated phyſiognomy, are effaced in the countenance by age; while, on the contary, their true ſigns are viſible in youth. The original materials of man are unchangeable; he is drawn in colours that have no deceit. The boy is the work of nature, the man of art."

How much of the true, how much of the falſe, worthy Zimmermann, at leaſt of the indefinite, is there in this paſſage! According to my conception, I ſee the clay, the maſs, in the youthful countenance; but not the form of the future man. There are paſſions and powers of youth, and paſſions and powers of age. Theſe often are contradictory in the ſame man, yet are they contained one within the other. Time produces the expreſſion of latent traits. A man is but a boy ſeen through a magnifying glaſs, I always, therefore, perceive more in the countenance of a man than of a boy. Diſſimulation may indeed conceal the moral materials, but not alter their form. The growth, of powers and paſſions, imparts to the firſt undefined ſketch of what is called a boy's countenance, the firm traits, ſhading, and colouring, of manhood.

Theſe are youthful countenances, which declare whether they ever ſhall, or ſhall not, ripen into man. This they declare, but they only declare it to the great phyſiognomiſt. I will acknowledge, when, which ſeldom happens, the form of the head is beautiful, conſpicuous, proportionate, greatly featured, well defined, and not too feebly coloured, it will be difficult that the reſult ſhould be common or vulgar. I likewiſe know, that where the form is diſtorted, eſpecially when it is tranſverſe, extended, undefined, or too harſhly defined, much can rarely be expected. But how much do the forms of youthful countenances change, even in the ſyſtem of the bones?

Much has been ſaid of the openneſs, undegeneracy, ſimplicity, and ingenuouſneſs of a childiſh and youthful countenance. It may be ſo, but for my own part, I muſt own, I am not ſo fortunate as to be able to read a youthful countenance with the ſame degree of quickneſs and preciſion, however ſmall that degree, as one that is manly. The more I converſe with and conſider children, the more difficult do I find it to pronounce, with certainty, concerning their character. Not that I do not meet countenances, among children and boys, moſt ſtrikingly and poſitively ſignificant; yet ſeldom is the great outline of the youth ſo definite as for us to be able to read in it the man. The moſt remarkably advantageous young countenances may eaſily, through accident, terror, hurt, or ſeverity in parents or tutors, be internally injured, without any apparent injury to the whole. The beautiful, the eloquent form, the firm forehead, the deep, ſharp eye, the cheerful, open, free, quick-moving mouth remain; there will only be a drop of troubled water in what elſe appears ſo clear; only an uncommon, ſcarcely remarkable, perhaps convulſive motion of the mouth. Thus is hope overthrown, and beauty rendered indiſtinct.

As ſimplicity is the ſoil for variety, ſo is innocence for the products of vice. Simplicity, not of a youth, but of a child, in thee the Omniſcient only views the progreſs of ſleeping paſſion; the gentle wrinkles of youth, the deep of manhood, and the manifold and relaxed of age. Oh! how different was my infantine countenance to the preſent, in form and ſpeech! But as tranſgreſſion follows innocence, ſo doth virtue tranſgreſſion.

Doth the veſſel ſay to the potter, "wherefore haſt thou made me thus?—I am little, but I am I." He who created me, did not create me to be a child but a man. Wherefore ſhould I ruminate on the pleaſures of childhood, unburthened with cares? I am what I am. I will forget the paſt, nor weep that I am no longer a child, when I contemplate children in all their lovelineſs. To join the powers of man with the ſimplicity of the child is the height of all my hopes. God grant they may be accompliſhed!

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Phyſiognomical Extracts from an Eſſay inſerted in the Deutſchen Muſeum, a German Journal or Review.

FROM this eſſay I ſhall extract only ſelect thoughts, and chiefly none but thoſe which I ſuppoſe to be importantly true, importantly falſe, or ill defined.

1. "Men with arched and pointed noſes are ſaid to be witty, and that the blunt noſed are not ſo."

A more accurate definition is neceſſary, which, without drawing, is almoſt impoſſible. Is it meant by arched noſes, arched in length or in breadth? How arched? This is almoſt as indeterminate as when we ſpeak of arched foreheads. All foreheads are arched. Innumerable noſes are arched, the moſt witty and the moſt ſtupid. Where is the higheſt point of arching? Where does it begin? What is its extent? What is its ſtrength?

It is true, that people with tender, thin, ſharply defined, angular noſes, pointed below, and ſomething inclined towards the lip, are witty, when no other features contradict theſe tokens; but that people with blunt noſes are not ſo, is not entirely true. It can only be ſaid of certain blunt noſes, for there are others of this kind extremely witty, though their wit is certainly of a different kind to that of the pointed noſe.

2. "It is aſked, (ſuppoſing for a moment, that the arched and the blunt noſe denote the preſence or abſence of wit) is the arched noſe the mere ſign that a man is witty, which ſuppoſes his wit to originate in ſome occult cauſe, or is the noſe itſelf the cauſe of wit?"

I anſwer, ſign, cauſe, and effect, combined. Sign; for it betokens the wit, and is an involuntary expreſſion of wit. Cauſe; at leaſt cauſe that the wit is not greater, leſs, or of a different quality, boundary cauſe. Effect; produced by the quantity, meaſure, or activity of the mind, which ſuffers not the noſe to alter its form to be greater or leſs. We are not only to conſider the form as form, but the matter of which it is moulded, the conformability of which is determined by the nature and ingredients of this matter, which is probably the origin of the form.

True indeed it is, that there are blunt noſes, which are incapable of receiving a certain quantity of wit; therefore it may be ſaid with more ſubtlety than philoſophy, they form an inſuperable barrier.

3. "The correſpondence of external figures with internal qualities is not the conſequence of external circumſtances, but rather of phyſical combination. They are related like cauſe and effect, or, in other words, phyſiognomy is not the mere image of internal man, but the efficient cauſe."—(I ſhould rather ſay the limiting cauſe)—The form and arrangement of the muſcles determine the mode of thought, and ſenſibility of the man."

I add, theſe are alſo determined by the mind of man.

4. "A broad conſpicuous forehead is ſaid to denote penetration. This is natural. The muſcle of the forehead is neceſſary to deep thought. If it be narrow and contracted, it cannot render the ſame ſervice as if ſpread out like a ſail."

Without contradicting the general propoſition of the author, I ſhall here more definitely add, it is, if you pleaſe generally true, that the more brain, the more mind and capacity. The moſt ſtupid animals are thoſe with leaſt brain, and thoſe with moſt the wiſeſt. Man, generally wiſer, has more brain than other animals; and it appears juſt, to conclude from analogy, that wiſe men have more brain than the fooliſh. But accurate obſervation teaches, that this propoſition, to be true, requires much definition and limitation.

Where the matter and form of the brain are ſimilar, there the greater ſpace for the reſidence of the brain is, certainly the ſign, cauſe and effect of more and deeper comprehenſion; therefore, caeteris pa[•]ibus, a larger quantity of brain, and conſequently a ſpacious forehead, is more intelligent than the reverſe. But as we frequently live more conveniently in a ſmall well-contrived chamber than in more magnificent apartments, ſo do we find, that in many ſmall, ſhort foreheads, with leſs, or apparently leſs brain than others, the wiſe mind reſides at its eaſe.

I have known many ſhort, oblique, ſtraight-lined (when compared with others apparently arched, or really well-arched) foreheads, which were much wiſer, more intelligent, and penetrating, than the moſt broad and conſpicuous; many of which latter I have ſeen in extremely weak men. It ſeems to me, indeed, a much more general propoſition, that ſhort compreſſed foreheads are wiſe and underſtanding; though this, likewiſe, without being more accurately defined, is far from being generally true.

But is it true, that large ſpacious foreheads which, if I do not miſtake, Galen, and after him Huart, have ſuppoſed the moſt propitious to deep thinking, which form a half ſphere, are uſually the moſt ſtupid. The more any forehead (I do not ſpeak of the whole ſcull) approaches a ſemiſpherical form, the more is it weak, effeminate, and incapable of reflexion, and this I ſpeak from repeated experience.

The more ſtraight lines a forehead has, the leſs capacious it muſt be; for the more it is arched, the more muſt it be roomy, and the more ſtraight lines it has, the more muſt it be contracted. This greater quantity of ſtraight lines, when the forehead is not flat like a board, for ſuch flatneſs takes away all underſtanding, denotes an increaſe of judgment, but a diminution of ſenſibility. There undoubtedly are, however, broad, capacious foreheads, without ſtraight lines, particularly adapted to profound thinking; but theſe are conſpicuous by their oblique outlines.

5. What the author has ſaid concerning enthuſiaſts, requires much greater preciſion, before it ought to be received as true.

"Enthuſiaſts are ſaid commonly to have flat, perpendicular foreheads."

Oval, cylindrical, or pointed at top, ſhould have been ſaid, of thoſe enthuſiaſts who are calm, cold-blooded, and always continue the ſame. Other enthuſiaſts, that is to ſay, ſuch as are ſubject to a variety of ſenſation, illuſion, and ſenſual experience, ſeldom have cylindrical or ſugar-loaf heads. The latter, when enthuſiaſts, heat their imagination concerning words and types, the ſignification of which they do not underſtand, and are philoſophical, unpoetical enthuſiaſts. Enthuſiaſts of imagination, or of ſenſibility, ſeldom have flat forms of the countenance.

6. "Obſtinate, like enthuſiaſtic perſons, have perpendicular foreheads."

The perpendicular always denotes coldneſs, inactivity, narrowneſs; hence firmneſs, fortitude, pertinacity, obſtinacy, and enthuſiaſm, may be there. Abſolute perpendicularity, and abſolute folly, are the ſame.

7. "Each diſpoſition of mind is accompanied by a certain appearance, or motion of the muſcles [〈◊〉] conſequently the appearance of man, which is natural to, and ever preſent with him, will be accompanied by, and denote, his natural diſpoſition of mind. Countenances are ſo formed originally, that to one this, and to another that appearance is the eaſieſt. It is abſolutely impoſſible for folly to aſſume the appearance of wiſdom, otherwiſe it would no longer be folly. The worthy man cannot aſſume the appearance of diſhoneſty, or he would be diſhoneſt."

This is all excellent, the laſt excepted. No man is ſo good as not, under certain circumſtances, to be liable to become diſhoneſt. He is ſo organized, that he may be overtaken by the pleaſure of ſtealing, when accompanied by the temptation. The poſſibility of the appearance muſt be there as well as the poſſibility of the act. He muſt alſo be able to aſſume the appearance of diſhoneſty, when he obſerves it in a thief, without neceſſarily becoming a thief. The poſſibility of aſſuming the appearance of goodneſs is, in my opinion, very different. The appearance of vice is always more eaſily aſſumed by the virtuous, than the appearance of virtue by the vicious; as it is evidently much eaſier to become bad when we are good, than good when we are bad. Underſtanding, ſenſibility, talents, genius, virtue, or religion, may with much greater facility be loſt than acquired. The beſt may deſcend as low as they pleaſe, but the worſt cannot aſcend to the height they might wiſh. The wiſe man may phyſically, without a miracle, become a fool, and the moſt virtuous vicious; but the idiot-born cannot, without a miracle, become a philoſopher, nor the diſtorted villain noble and pure of heart. The moſt beautiful complexion may become jaundiced, may be lo[•]t; but the negro cannot be waſhed white. I ſhall not become a negro becauſe, to imitate him I blacken my face, nor a thief, becauſe I aſſume the appearance of a thief.

8. "The phyſiognomiſt ought to inquire, what is the appearance the countenance can moſt eaſily aſſume, and he will thence learn what is the diſpoſition of mind. Not that phyſiognomy is therefore an eaſy ſcience. On the contrary, this rather ſhows how much ability, imagination, and genius, are neceſſary to the phyſiognomiſt. Attention muſt not only be paid to what is viſible, but what would be viſible under various other circumſtances."

Excellent; and I add, that as a phyſician can preſage what alteration of colour, appearance, or form ſhall be the conſequence of a known diſeaſe, of the exiſtence of which he is certain, ſo can the accurate phyſiognomiſt what appearances or expreſſions are eaſy or difficult to each kind of muſcle, and form of forehead, what action is or is not permitted, and what wrinkles may or may not take place, under any given circumſtances.

9. "When a learner draws a countenance, we ſhall commonly find it is fooliſh, and never malicious, ſatirical, and the like. May not the eſſence of a fooliſh countenance hence be abſtracted? Certainly; or what is the cauſe of this appearance? The learner is incapable of preſerving proportion, and the ſtrokes are unconnected. What is the ſtupid countenance? It is one, the parts of which are defectively connected, and the muſcles improperly formed and arranged. Thought and ſenſation, therefore, of which theſe are the inſeparable inſtruments, muſt be alike feeble and dormant.

10. "Excluſive of the muſcles; there is another ſubſtance in the body, that is to ſay, the ſcull, or bones in general, to which the phyſiognomiſt attends. The poſition of the muſcles depends on theſe. How might the muſcle of the forehead have the poſition proper for thought, if the forehead bones, over which it is extended, had not the neceſſary arches and ſuperficies? The figure of the ſcull, therefore, defines the figure and poſition of the muſcles, which define thought and ſenſation.

11. "The ſame may be obſerved of the hair, from the parts and poſition of which concluſions may be drawn. Why has the Negro woolly hair? The thickneſs of the ſkin prevents the eſcape of certain of the particles of perſpiration, and theſe render the ſkin opaque and black. Hence the hair ſhoots with difficulty, and ſcarcely has it penetrated before it curls, and its growth ceaſes. The hair ſpreads according to the form of the ſcull, and the poſition of the muſcles, and gives occaſion to the phyſiognomiſt to draw concluſions from the hair to the poſition of the muſcles, and to deduce other conſequences."

In my opinion our author is certainly in the right road. He is the firſt who, to my knowledge, has perceived and felt the totality, the combination, the uniformity of the various parts of the human body. What he has affirmed, eſpecially concerning the hair, that we may from that make deductions concerning the nature of the body, and ſtill farther of the minds, the leaſt accurate obſerver may convince himſelf is truth, by daily experience. White, tender, clear, weak hair, always denotes weak, delicate, irritable, or rather a timid and eaſily oppreſſed organization. The black and curly will never be found on the delicate, tender, medullary head.

As is the hair, ſo the muſcles; as the muſcles, ſo the nerves; as the nerves, ſo the bones; their powers are mutual, and the powers of the mind to act, ſuffer, receive, and give, proportionate. Leaſt irritability always accompanies ſhort, hard, curly, black hair, and the moſt [〈◊〉] flaxen and the tender; that is to ſay, irritability without elaſticity. The one is oppreſſive without elaſticity, and the other oppreſſed without reſiſtance.

"Much hair, much fat, therefore no part of the human body is more conſpicuouſly covered with hair than the head and armpits. From the elaſticity of the hair, deductions may with certainty be made to the elaſticity of the character. The hair naturally betokens moiſture, and may properly determine the quantity of moiſture. The inhabitants of cold countries have hair more white, and, on the contrary, thoſe of hot countries, black. Lional Wafer obſerves, that the inhabitants of the iſthmus of Darien have milk-white hair. Few, if any, have green hair, except thoſe who work in copper mines. We ſeldom find white hair betokening diſhoneſty, but often dark brown or black, with light-coloured eyebrows. Women have longer hair than men. Men with long hair are always rather effeminate than manly. Dark hair is harſher than light, as is the hair of a man than that of a boy.

12. "As all depends on the quality of the muſcles, it is evident, that in theſe muſcles, which are employed for certain modes of thought and ſenſation, ought to be ſought the expreſſion of ſimilar thoughts and ſenſations."

Let not the ſearch be neglected, though probably it will be difficult to find them; and they certainly will there be defined with greater difficulty than in the forehead.

13. "The muſcle of the forehead, is the moſt important inſtrument to the abſtract thinker, for which reaſon we always ſeek for abſtract thought in the forehead."

Rather near and between the eyebrows. It is of conſequence to remark the particular moment when the thinker is liſtening, or when he is preparing ſome acute anſwer. Seize the moment, and another of the important tokens of phyſiognomy is obtained.

14. "Among people who do not abſtract, and whoſe powers of mind are all in action, men of wit, exquiſite taſte, and genius, all the muſcles muſt be advantageouſly formed and arranged. Expreſſion, therefore, in ſuch, muſt be ſought in the whole countenance."

Yet may it be found in the forehead alone, which is leſs ſharp, ſtraight-lined, perpendicular, and forked. The ſkin is leſs rigid, more eaſily moved, more flexible.

15. "How great has been the trouble to convince people, that phyſiognomy is only generally uſeful!"

It is at this very moment diſputed by men of the ſtongeſt minds. How long ſhall it continue ſo to be? Yet I ſhould ſuppoſe, that he who curſes the ſun, while expoſed to its ſcorching rays, would, when in the ſhade, acknowledge its univerſal utility.

"How afflicting is it to hear, from perſons of the greateſt learning, and who might be expected to enlarge the boundaries of human underſtanding, the moſt ſuperficial judgments? How much is that great aera to be wiſhed, when the knowledge of man ſhall become a part of natural hiſtory; when pſychology, phyſiology, and phyſiognomy, ſhall go hand in hand, and lead us towards the confines of more general, more ſublime illumination?"

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Extracts from Maximus Tyrius.

SINCE the ſoul of man is the neareſt approach to the Deity, it was not proper that God ſhould clothe that which moſt reſembled himſelf in diſhonourable garments; but with a body befitting an immortal mind, and endowed with a proper capability of motion. This is the only body on earth that ſtands erect. It is magnificent, ſuperb, and formed according to the beſt proportion of its moſt delicate parts. Its ſtature is not terrific, nor is its ſtrength formidable. The coldneſs of its juices occaſions it not to creep, nor their heat to fly. Man eats not raw fleſh, from the ſavageneſs of his nature, nor does he graze like the ox; but he is framed and adapted for the executions of his functions. To the wicked he is formidable; mild and friendly to the good. By nature he walks the earth, ſwims by art, and flies by imagination. He tills the earth, and enjoys its fruits. His complexion is beautiful, his limbs firm, his countenance is comely, and beard ornamental. By imitating his body, the Greeks have thought proper to honour their deities.

Oh! that I could ſpeak with ſufficient force! Oh! that I could find faith enough with my readers, to convince them how frequently my ſoul ſeems exalted above itſelf, while I contemplate the unſpeakably miraculous nature of the human body! Oh! that all the languages of the earth would lend me words, that I might turn the thoughts of men, not only to the contemplation of others, but, by the aid of theſe, to the contemplation of themſelves! No anti-phyſiognomiſt can more deſpiſe my work than I myſelf ſhall, if I am unable to accompliſh this purpoſe. How might I conſcientiouſly write ſuch a work were not ſuch my views? If this be not impulſe, no writer has impulſe. I cannot behold the ſmalleſt trait, nor the inflexion of any outline, without reading wiſdom and benevolence, or without waking, as if from a ſweet dream into rapturous, and actual exiſtence, and congratulating myſelf that I alſo am a man.

In each the ſmalleſt outline of the human body, and how much more in all together, in each member ſeparately, and how much more in the whole body, however old and runinous the building may appear, or be, how much is there contained of the ſtudy of God, the genius of God, the poetry of God! My trembling and agitated breaſt frequently pants after leiſure to look into the revelations of God.

2. "Imagine to thyſelf the moſt translucent water flowing over a ſurface, on which grow beauteous flowers, whoſe bloom, though beneath, is ſeen through the pellucid waves; even ſo it is with the fair flower of the ſoul, planted in a beauteous body, through which its beauteous bloom is ſeen. The good formation of a youthful body is no other than the bloom of ripening virtue, and as I may ſay, the preſage of far higher perfection; for, as before the riſing of the ſun, the mountain tops are gilded by his rays, enlivening the pleaſing proſpects, and promiſing the full approach of day, ſo alſo the future maturity of an illuſtrious ſoul ſhines through the body, and is to the philoſopher the pleaſing ſign of approaching happineſs."

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Extracts from a Manuſcript by Th—.

"THE relation between the male and female countenance is ſimilar to that between youth and manhood. Our experience, that the deep, or ſcarcely viſible outline is in proportion to the depth or ſhallowneſs of thought, is one of the many proofs that nature has impreſſed ſuch forms upon her creatures as ſhall teſtify their qualities. That theſe forms or ſigns are legible to the highly perceptive ſoul is viſible in children, who cannot endure the deceitful, the tell-tale, or the revengeful; but run with open arms to the benevolent ſtranger.

"We may properly divide our remarks on this ſubject into complexion, lines, and pantomime. That white, generally ſpeaking, is cheerful, and black, gloomy and terrific, is the conſequence of our love of light, which act ſo degenerately, as it were, upon ſome animals, that they will throw themſelves into the fire; and of our abhorrence of darkneſs. The reaſon of this our love of light, is, that it makes us acquainted with things, provides for the ſoul hungry after knowledge, and enables us to find what is neceſſary, and avoid what is dangerous. I only mention this to intimate, that in this our love of light originates our inclination for every thing that is perſpicuous. Certain colours are, to certain animals, particularly agreeable or diſagreeable."

What is the reaſon of this? Becauſe they are the expreſſion of ſomething which has a relation to their character, that harmonizes with it, or is diſcordant. Colours are the effect of certain qualities of object and ſubject; they are therefore characteriſtic in each, and become more ſo by the manner in which they are mutually received and repelled. This would be another immenſe field of inquiry, another ray of the ſun of truth. All is phyſiognomy!

"Our diſlike is no leſs for every thing which is clothed in dark colours; and nature has warned animals, not only againſt feeding on earth, but alſo on dark-green plants; for the one is as detrimental as the other. Thus the man of dark complexion terrifies an infant that is incapable of judging of his character.

"So ſtrikingly ſignificant are the members of the body, that the aſpect of the whole attacks our feelings, and induces judgments as ſudden as they are juſt. Thus, to mention two extremes, all will acknowledge, at the firſt aſpect, the elephant to be the wiſeſt, and the fiſh the moſt ſtupid of creatures.

"The upper part of the countenance, to the root of the noſe, is the fea[•] of internal labour, thought, and reſolution; the under, of theſe in action. Animals, with very retreating foreheads, have little brain, and the reverſe.

"Projecting noſe and mouth (the latter certainly not always) betoken perſuaſion, ſelf-confidence, raſhneſs, ſhameleſſneſs, want of thought, diſhoneſty, and all ſuch feelings as are aſſembled in haſty expreſſion."

This is a deciſion after the manner of the old phyſiognomiſts condemning, and indefinite.

"The noſe is the ſeat of deriſion, its wrinkles contemn. The upper lip, when projecting, ſpeaks arrogance, threats, and want of ſhame; the parting under-lip, oſtentation and folly. Theſe ſigns are confirmed by the manner and attitude of the head, when drawn back, toſſed or turned round. The [〈◊〉] expreſſes contempt, during which the noſe is active; the latter is a proof of extreme arrogance, during which the projection of the under-lip is the ſtrongeſt.

"The in drawn lower part of the countenance, on the contrary, denotes diſcretion, modeſty, ſeriouſneſs, diffidence, and its [•]ailings are thoſe of malice and obſtinacy."

Not ſo poſitive. The projecting chin is much oftener the ſign of craft than the retreating. The latter is ſeldom ſcheming and enterpriſing.

"The ſtraight formation of the noſe betokens gravity; inbent and crooked, noble thoughts. The flat, pouting upper lip (when it does not cloſe well with the under,) ſignifies timidity; the lips reſembling each other, circumſpection of ſpeech.

"We may divide the face into two principal kinds. The firſt is that in which the cheeks preſent a flat ſurface, the noſe projecting like a hill, and the mouth has the appearance of a ſabre-wound, prolonged on an even ſurface, while the line of the jaw-bone has but little inflection. Such a form makes the countenance more broad than long, and exceedingly rude, inexpreſſive, ſtupid, and in every ſenſe confined. The principal characteriſtics are obſtinacy and inflexibility.

"The ſecond kind is, when the noſe has a ſharp ridge, and the parts on both fides make acute angles with each other. The cheek bones are not ſeen, conſequently the muſcular parts between them and the noſe are full and prominent. The lips retreat on each ſide of the mouth, aſſume or open into an oval, and the jaw-bones come to a point at the chin."

This face denotes a mind more ſubtle, active, and intelligent.

"The better to explain myſelf, I muſt here employ the ſimile of two ſhips. The firſt a merchant veſſel, built for deep loading, has a broad bottom, and her ribs long and flat. This reſembles the broad, flat countenance. The frigate, built for ſwift ſailing, has a ſharp keel or bottom, her ribs forming acute angles. Such is the ſecond countenance. Of theſe two extremes, the firſt preſents to [•]e the image of the meaneſt, moſt contracted ſelf-love; the ſecond of the moſt zealous, the nobleſt philanthropy.

"I am ſenſible, that nature does not delight in extremes. Still the underſtanding muſt take its departure from theſe as from a light-houſe, eſpecially when ſailing in unknown ſeas. The defects and exceſſes which are in all works of nature will then be diſcovered, and one or both the boundaries aſcertained.

"On farther examination and application of the above hypotheſis, it will I believe extend through all nature. A broad countenance is accompanied by a ſhort neck, broad ſhoulders and back, and their known character is ſelfiſhneſs and obtuſe ſenſation. The long, ſmall countenance, has a long neck, ſmall, or low ſhoulders and ſmall back. From ſuch I ſhould expect more juſtice, diſintereſtedneſs, and a general ſuperiority of ſocial feelings.

"The features and character of men are eſſentially altered by education, ſituation, intercourſe, and incidents; therefore we are juſtified in maintaining, that phyſiognomy cannot look back to the origin of the features, nor preſage the changes of futurity; but from the countenance only, abſtracted from all external accidents by which it may be affected, it may read what any given man may be, with the following addition at moſt: ſuch ſhall be the empire of reaſon, or ſuch the power of ſenſuality. This man is too ſtubborn to be inſtructed; that ſo flexible he may be led to good or ill.

"From this formation we may in part explain why ſo many men appear to be born for certain ſituations, although they may have rather been placed in them by accident than by choice. Why the prince, the nobleman, the overſeer of the poor, have a lordly, a ſtern, or a pedantic manner; why the ſubject, the ſervant, the ſlave, are puſillanimous and ſpiritleſs; or the courtezan affected, conſtrained, or inſipid. The conſtant influence of circumſtances on the mind, far exceeds the influence of nature." Far the contrary.

"Although it is certain, that innate ſervility is▪ very diſtinct from the ſervility of o[••] whom miſfortune has rendered a ſervant; like as he whom chance has made a ruler over his brother, is very different from one who is by nature ſuperior to vulgar ſouls."

There is no ſuch thing as innate ſervility. It is true that, under certain circumſtances, ſome are much more diſpoſed than others to become ſervile.

"The unfeeling mind of the ſlave has vacuity more complete, or, if a maſter, more ſelf-complacency and arrogance, in the open mouth, the projecting lip, and the turned-up noſe. The noble mind rules by the comprehenſive reſpect, while, in the cloſed lips, moderation is expreſſed. He will ſerve with ſullenneſs, with downcaſt eye, and his ſhut mouth will diſdain to complain.

"As the foregoing cauſes will make durable impreſſions, ſo will the adventitious occaſion tranſitory ones, while their power remains. The latter are more apparent than the ſigns of the countenance at reſt, but may be well defined by the principal characteriſtics of the agitated features; and, by compariſon with countenances ſubject to ſimilar agitations, the nature of the mind may be fully diſplayed. Anger in the unreaſonable ridiculouſly ſtruggles; in the ſelf-conceited it is fearful rage; in the noble minded, it yields and brings opponents to ſhame; in the benevolent, it has a mixture of compaſſion for the offender, moving him to repentance.

"The affliction of the ignorant is outrageous, and of the vain ridiculous; of the compaſſionate, abundant in tears and communicative; of the reſolute, ſerious, internal, the muſcles of the cheeks ſcarcely drawn upwards, the forehead little wrinkled.

"The love of the ignorant is violent and eager; of the vain, diſguſting, which is ſeen in the ſparkling eyes, and the forced ſmile of the forked cheeks, and the indrawn mouth▪ of the tender, languiſhing, with the mouth contracted to intr[•••]t; of the man of ſenſe, ſerious, ſtedfaſtly ſurveying the object, the forehead open, and the mouth prepared to plead.

"On the whole, the ſenſations of a man of fortitude are reſtrained, while thoſe of the ignorant degenerate into grimace. The latter, therefore, are not the proper ſtudy of the artiſt, though they are of the phyſiognomiſt, and the moral teacher, that youth may be warned againſt too ſtrong an expreſſion of the emotions of the mind, and of their ridiculous effects.

"Thus do the communicative and moving ſenſations of the benevolent inſpire reverence; but thoſe of the vicious, fear, hatred, or contempt.

"The repetition of paſſions engrave their ſigns ſo deeply, that they reſemble the original ſtamp of nature. Hence certainly may be deduced, that the mind is addicted to ſuch paſſions. Thus are poetry and the dramatic art highly beneficial, and thus may be ſeen the advantage of conducting youth to ſcenes of miſery and of death.

"Frequent intercourſe forms ſuch a ſimilarity between men, that they not only aſſume a mental likeneſs, but frequently contract ſome reſemblance of voice and features. Of this I know ſeveral examples.

"Each man has his favourite geſture, which might decypher his whole character, might he be obſerved with ſufficient accuracy to be drawn in that preciſe poſture. The collection of ſuch portraits would be excellent for the firſt ſtudies of the phyſiognomiſt, and would increaſe the utility of the fragments of Lavater tenfold.

"Of equal utility would be a ſeries of drawings of the motions peculiar to individuals. The number of theſe in lively men is great, and they are tranſitory. In the more ſedate they are leſs numerous and more grave.

"As a collection of idealized individuals would promote an extenſive knowledge of various kinds of men, ſo would a collection of the motions of a ſingle countenance promote a hiſtory of the human heart, and demonſtrate what an arrogant, yet puſillanimous thing the unformed heart is, and the perfection it is capable of, from the efforts of reaſon and experience.

"It would be an excellent ſchool for youth to ſee Chriſt teaching in the Temple; aſking, Whom ſeek you? agonizing in the Garden; expiring on the Croſs. Eve[•] the ſame Godman! Ever diſplaying, in theſe various ſituations, the ſame miraculous mind, the ſame ſtedfaſt reaſon, the ſame gentle benevolence. Caeſar jeſting with the pirates when their priſoner, weeping over the head of Pompey, ſinking beneath his aſſaſſins, and caſting an expiring look of affliction and reproach, while he exclaims, Et tu Brute? Belſhazar feaſting with his nobles, turning pale at the hand-writing on the wall. The tyrant enraged, butchering his ſlaves; and ſurrounded by condemned wretches entreating mercy from the uplifted ſword, pronouncing a general pardon ideal.

"Since ſenſation has a relative influence on the voice, muſt not th[•••] be one principal tone or key, by which all the o[••]ers are governed, and will not this be the key, in which he ſpeaks when unimpaſſioned, like as the countenance at reſt contains the propenſities to all ſuch traits as it is capable of receiving? Theſe keys of voice, a good muſician, with a fine ear, ſhould collect, claſs, and learn to define, ſo that he might place the key of the voice beſide any given countenance, making proper allowances for changes, occaſioned by the form of the lungs, excluſive of diſeaſe. Tall people, with a flatneſs of breaſt, have weak voices.

"This idea, which is more difficult to execute than conceive, was inſpired by the various tones in which I have heard yes and no pronounced. The various emotions under which theſe words are uttered, whether of aſſurance, deciſion, joy, grief, ridicule, or laughter, will give birth to tones as various. Yet each man has his peculiar manner, reſpondent to his character, of ſaying yes, no, or any other word. It will be open, heſitating, grave, trifling, ſympathizing▪ cold, peeviſh, mild, fearleſs, or timid. What a guide for the man of the world, and how do ſuch tones diſplay or betray the mind!

"Since we are taught by experience, that at certain times, the man of underſtanding appears fooliſh, the courageous cowardly, the benevolent perverſe, and the cheerful diſcontented, we might, by the aſſiſtance of theſe accidental traits, draw an ideal of each emotion; and this would be a moſt valuable addition, and an important ſtep in the progreſs of phyſiognomy."

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Extracts from NICOLAI and WINKELMANN.

Extracts from Nicolai.

1. "THE diſtorted or disfigured form may originate as well from external as from internal cauſes; but the conſiſtency of the whole is the conſequence of conformity between internal and external cauſes; for which reaſon moral goodneſs is much more viſible in the countenace than moral evil."

This is true, thoſe moments excepted when moral evil is in act.

2. "The end of phyſiognomy ought to be, not conjectures on individual, but the diſcovery of general character."

That is to ſay, the diſcovery of general ſigns of powers and ſenſations, which certainly are uſeleſs, unleſs they can be individually applied, ſince our intercourſe is with individuals.

3. "Were numerous portraits of the ſame man annually drawn, and the original, by that means, well known, it would be of great utility to phyſiognomy.

It is poſſible, and perhaps only poſſible, to procure accurate ſhades, or plaſter caſts. Minute changes are ſeldom accurately enough attended to by the painter, for the purpoſe of phyſiognomy.

4. "The grand queſtion of the phyſiognomiſt in his reſearches will ever be, in what manner is a man conſidered capable of the impreſſions of ſenſe? Through what kind of perſpective does he view the world? What can he give? What receive?

5. "That very vivacity of imagination, that quickneſs of conception, without which no man can be a phyſiognomiſt, is probably almoſt inſeparable from other qualities which render the higheſt caution neceſſary, if the reſult of his obſervations is to be applied to living perſons."

This I readily grant; but the danger will be much leſs if he endeavours to employ his quick ſenſations in determinate ſigns; if he be able to pourtray the general token of certain powers, ſenſations, and paſſions; and if his rapid imagination be only buſied to diſcover and draw reſemblances.

Extracts from Winklemann.

1. "Internal ſenſation is the characteriſtic of [〈…〉] the deſigner, who would preſent ſuch natural ſenſation to his academy, would not obtain a ſhade of the true, without a particular addition of ſomething, which an ordinary and unimpaſſioned mind cannot read in any model, being ignorant of the action peculiar to each ſenſation and paſſion."

The phyſiognomiſt is formed by internal ſenſation, which if the deſigner be not, he will give but the ſhadow, and only an indefinite and confuſed ſhadow, of the true character of nature.

2. "The forehead and noſe of the Greek god and goddeſs form almoſt a ſtrait line. The heads of famous women, on Greek coins, have ſimilar profiles, where the fancy might not be indulged in ideal beauties. Hence we may conjecture, that this form was as common to the ancient Greeks as the flat noſe to the Calmuc, or the ſmall eye to the Chineſe. The large eyes of Grecian heads, in gems and coins, ſupport this conjecture."

This ought not to be abſolutely general, and probably was not, ſince numerous medals ſhow the contrary, though in certain ages and countries ſuch might have been the moſt common form. Had only one ſuch countenance, however, preſented itſelf to the genius of art, it would have been ſufficient for its propagation and continuance. This is leſs our concern than the ſignification of ſuch a form. The nearer the approach to the perpendicular, the leſs is there characteriſtic of the wiſe and graceful; and the higher the character of worth and greatneſs, the more obliquely the lines retreat. The more ſtraight and perpendicular the profile of the forehead and noſe is, the more does the profile of the upper part of the head approach a right angle, from which wiſdom and beauty will fly with equally rapid ſteps▪ In the uſual copies of theſe famous ancient lines of beauty, I generally find the expreſſion of meanneſs, and, if I dare ſo ſay, of vague inſipidity. I repeat, in the copies; in the Sophoniſba of Angelica Kauffman, for inſtance, where probably the ſhading under the hair has been neglected, and where the gentle arching of the lines, apparently, was ſcarcely attainable.

3. "The line which ſeparates the repletion from the exceſs of nature is very ſmall."

Not to be meaſured by induſtry or inſtrument, yet all powerful, as every thing unattainable is.

4. "A mind as beautiful as was that of Raphael, in an equally beautiful body, is neceſſary, firſt to feel, and afterwards to diſplay, in theſe modern times, the true character of the ancients.

5. "Conſtraint is unnatural, and violence diſorder."

Where conſtraint is remarked, there let ſecret, profound, ſlowly deſtructive paſſion be feared; where violence, there open and quick deſtroying.

6. "Greatneſs will be expreſſed by the ſtraight and replete, and tenderneſs by the gently curving."

All greatneſs has ſomething of ſtraight and replete, but all the ſtraight and replete is not greatneſs. The ſtraight and replete muſt be in a certain poſition, and muſt have a determinate relation to the horizontal, on which the obſerver ſtands to view it.

"It may be proved, that no principle of beauty exiſts in this profile; for the ſtronger the arching of the noſe is, the leſs does it contain of the beautiful; and if any countenance ſeen in profile is bad, any ſearch after beauty will there be vain.

The nobleſt, pureſt, wiſeſt, moſt ſpiritual and benevolent countenance, may be beautiful to the phyſiognomiſt, who, in the extended ſenſe of the word beauty, underſtands all moral expreſſions of good as beautiful; yet the form may not, therefore, accurately ſpeaking, deſerve the appellation of beautiful▪

7. "Nothing is more difficult than to demonſtrate a ſelf-evident truth."

CHAPTER XL.

Extracts from Ariſtotle and other Authors on Beaſts.

WHAT Ariſtotle has written on phyſiognomy appears to me very ſuperficial, uſeleſs, and often ſelf-contradictory, eſpecially his general reaſoning. Still, however, we ſometimes meet an occaſional thought which deſerves to be ſelected. The following are ſome of theſe:

"A monſter has never been ſeen which had the form of another creature, and, at the ſame time, totally different powers of thinking and acting▪ Thus for example, the groom judges from the mer[•] appearance of the horſe; the huntſman, from the appearance of the hound. We find no man entirely like a beaſt, although there are ſome features in man which remind us of beaſts.

"If any one would endeavour to diſcover the ſigns of bravery in man, he would act wiſely to collect all the ſigns of bravery in animated nature, by which courageous animals are diſtinguiſhed from others. The phyſiognomiſt ſhould then examine all ſuch animated beings, which are the reverſe of the former, with reſpect to internal character, and, from the compariſon of theſe oppoſites, the expreſſions or ſigns of courage would be manifeſt.

"As weak hair betokens of fear, ſo does ſtrong hair courage. This obſervation is applicable not only to men but to beaſts. The moſt fearful of beaſts are the deer, the hare, and the ſheep, and the hair of theſe is weaker than that of other beaſts. The lion and wild boar, on the contrary, are the moſt courageous, which property is conſpicuous in their extremely ſtrong hair. The ſame alſo may be remarked of birds; for, in general, thoſe among them which have coarſe feathers are courageous, and thoſe that have ſoft and weak feathers are fearful. This may eaſily be applied to men. The people of the north are generally courageous, and have ſtrong hair; while thoſe of the weſt are more fearful, and have more flexible hair.

"Such beaſts as are remarkable for their courage, ſimply give their voices vent, without any great conſtraint, while fearful beaſts utter vehement ſounds. Compare the lion, ox, the barking-dog, and cock, which are courageous to the deer and the hare. The lion appears to have a more maſculine character, than any other beaſt. He has a large mouth, a four-cornered not too bony viſage. The upper jaw does not project, but exactly fits the under; the noſe is rather hard than ſoft, the eyes are neither ſunken nor prominent, the forehead is ſquare, and ſometimes flattened in the middle.

"Thoſe who have thick and firm lips, with the upper hung over the under, are ſimple perſons, according to the analogy of the ape and monkey."

This is moſt indeterminately ſpoken. He would have been much more accurate had he ſaid, thoſe whoſe under lips are weak, extended, and projecting, beyond the upper, are ſimple people.

"Thoſe who have the tip of the noſe hard and [•]irm, love to employ themſelves on ſubjects that give them little trouble, ſimilar to the cow and the ox."

Inſupportable! The few men, who have the tip of the noſe firm, are the moſt wearied in their reſearches. I ſhall tranſcribe no farther. His phyſiognomonical remarks, and his ſimilarities to beaſts, are generally unfounded in experience.

Porta, next to Ariſtotle, has moſt obſerved the reſemblance between the countenances of men and beaſts, and has extended this inquiry the fartheſt. He, as far as I know, was the firſt to render this ſimilarity apparent, by placing the countenances of men and beaſts beſide each other. Nothing can be more true than this fact; and, while we continue to follow nature, and do not endeavour to make ſuch ſimilarities greater than they are, it is a ſubject that cannot be too accurately examined. But, in this reſpect, the fanciful Porta appears to me to have been often miſled, and to have found reſemblances which the eye of truth never could diſcover. I could diſcover no reſemblance between the hound and Plato, at leaſt from which cool reaſon could draw any concluſions. It is ſingular enough, that he has alſo compared the heads of men and birds. He might more effectually have examined the exceſſive diſſimilarity, than the very ſmall and almoſt imperceptible reſemblance which can exiſt. He ſpeaks little concerning the horſe, elephant, and monkey▪ though it is certain that theſe animals have moſt reſemblance to man.

A generic difference between man and beaſt is particularly conſpicuous in the ſtructure of the bones. The head of man is placed erect on the ſpinal bone. His whole form is as the foundation pillar for that arch in which heaven ſhould be reflected, ſupporting that ſcull by which, like the firmament it is encircled. This cavity for the brain conſtitutes the greater part of the head. All our ſenſations, as I may ſay, aſcend and deſcend above the jaw-bone, and collect themſelves upon the lips. How do the eyes, that moſt eloquent of organs, ſtand in need, if not of words, at leaſt of the angry conſtraint of the cheeks, and all the intervening ſhades, to expreſs, or rather to ſtammer, the ſtrong internal ſenſations of man.

How directly the reverſe of this is the formation of beaſts! The head is only attached to the ſpine. The brain, the extremity of the ſpinal marrow, has no greater extent than is neceſſary for animal life, and the conducting of a creature wholly ſenſual, and formed but for temporary exiſtence. For although we cannot deny, that beaſts have the faculty of memory, and act from reflexion, yet the former, as I may ſay, is the effect of primary ſenſation, and the latter originates in the conſtraint of the moment, and the preponderance of this or that object.

In the difference of the ſcull which defines the character of animals, we may perceive, in the moſt convincing manner, how the bones determine the form, and denote the properties of the creature.

As the characters of animals are diſtinct, ſo are their forms, bones, and outlines. From the ſmalleſt winged inſect to the eagle that ſoars and gazes at the ſun; from the weakeſt worm, impotently crawling beneath our feet, to the elephant, or the majeſtic lion, the gradations of phyſiognomonical expreſſion cannot be miſtaken. It would be more than ridiculous to expect from the worm, the butterfly, and the lamb, the power of the rattleſnake, the eagle, and the lion. Were the lion and lamb, for the firſt time, placed before us, had we never known ſuch animals, never heard their names, ſtill we could not reſiſt the impreſſion of the courage and ſtrength of the one, or of the weakneſs and ſufferance of the other.

Let me aſk the queſtion, which are, in general, the weakeſt animals, and the moſt remote from humanity, the moſt incapable of human ideas and ſenſations? Beyond all doubt, thoſe which in their form leaſt reſemble man. To prove this, let us, in imagination, conſider the various degrees of animal life, from the ſmalleſt animalcula to the ape, lion, and elephant; and the more to ſimplify, and give facility to ſuch compariſon, let us only compare head to head; as for example, the lobſter to the elephant, the elephant to the man.

Permit me here juſt to obſerve, how worthy would ſuch a work be of the united abilities of a Buffon, a Camper, and a Euler, could they be found united, that the forms of heads might be enumerated and deſcribed, philoſophically and mathematically; that it might be demonſtrated, that univerſal brutality▪ in all its various kinds, is circumſcribed by a determinate line; and that, among the innumerable lines of brutality, there is not one which is not internally and eſſentially different from the line of humanity, which is peculiar and unique.

Thoughts of a Friend on brutal and human Phyſiognomy.

"Each brute animal has ſome principal quality by which it is diſtinguiſhed from all others. As the make of each is diſtinct from all others, ſo alſo is the character. This principal character is denoted by a peculiar and viſible form. Each ſpecies of beaſt has certainly a peculiar character, as it has a peculiar form. May we not hence, by analogy, infer, that predominant qualities of the mind are as certainly expreſſed by predominant forms of the body▪ as that the peculiar qualities of a ſpecies are expreſſed in the general form of that ſpecies?

"The principal character of the ſpecies in animals remains ſuch as it was given by nature; it neither can be obſcured by acceſſory qualities, nor concealed by art. The eſſential of the character can as little be changed a[•] the peculiarity of the form. May we not therefore, with the greateſt degree of certainty, affirm ſuch a form is only expreſſive of ſuch a character?

"Let us now inquire whether this be applicable to man, and whether the form, which denotes individual character in a beaſt is ſignificant of ſimilar character in man, granting that, in man, it may continually be more delicate, hidden, and complicated. If, on examination, this queſtion be definitely anſwered in the affirmative, how much is thereby gained! But it is conſpicuouſly evident that, in man, the mind is not one character or quality, but a world of qualities interwoven with and obſcuring each other. If each quality be expreſſed by its peculiar form, then muſt variety of qualities be attended with variety of forms; and theſe forms, combining and harmonizing together, muſt become more difficult to ſelect and decypher.

"May not ſouls differ from each other merely according to their relative connexion with bodies? May not ſouls alſo have a determinate capacity, proportionate to the form and organization of the body? Hence each object may make a different impreſſion on each individual; hence one may bear greater burthens and more misfortunes than another. May not the body be conſidered as a veſſel with various compartments, cavities, pipes, into which the ſoul is poured, and in conſequence of which motion and ſenſation begin to act? And thus may not the form of the body define the capacity of the mind?"

Thus far my unknown friend.—Figurative language is dangerous when diſcourſing on the ſoul; yet how can we diſcourſe on it otherwiſe? I pronounce no judgment, but rely on ſenſation and experience, not on words and metaphors. What is, is, be your language what it will. Whether effects all act from the external to the internal, or the reverſe, I know not, cannot, need not know. Experience convinces us that, both in man and beaſt, power and form are in an unchangeable, harmonized proportion; but whether the form be determined by the power, or the power by the form, is a queſtion wholly inſignificant to the phyſiognomiſt.

Obſervations on ſ[•]me Animals, and particularly the Horſe.

The dog has more forehead above the eyes than moſt oth[••] beaſ[•••] but as much as he appears to gain in the forehead, he loſes in the exceſs of brutal noſe, which has every token of acute ſcent. Man too, in the act of ſmelling, elevates the noſtrils. The dog is alſo defective in the diſtance of the mouth from the noſe, and in the meanneſs, or rather nullity of chin.

Whether the hanging ears of a dog are characteriſtic of ſlaviſh ſubjection as Buffon has affirmed, who has written much more reaſonably on brute than on human phyſiognomy, I cannot determine.

The camel and the dromedary are a mixture of the horſe, ſheep, and aſs, without what is noble in the firſt. They alſo appear to have ſomething of the monkey, at leaſt in the noſe. Not made to ſuffer the bit in the mouth, the power of [〈◊◊〉] wanting. The determining marks concerning [〈◊〉] bit are found between the eyes and the noſe. No traces of courage or daring are found in theſe parts. The threatening ſnort of the ox and horſe is not perceptible in theſe ape-like noſtrils; none of the powers of plunder and prey, in the feeble upper and under jaw. Nothing but burden-bearing patience in the eyes.

Wild cruelty, the menacing power of rending, appear in the bear, abhorring man the friend of ancient ſavage nature.

The unau [•]i, or ſloth, is the moſt indolent, helpleſs, wretched creature, and of the moſt imperfect formation, how extraordinary is the feebleneſs of the outline of the head, body, and feet! No ſole of the feet, no toes ſmall or great, which move independently, having but two or three long, inbent [•]laws, which can only m[•]re together. Its ſluggiſhneſs, ſtupidity, and ſelf-neglect are indeſcribable.

Who does not read ferocity in the wild boar; a want of all that is noble, greedineſs, ſtupidity, blunt feeling, groſs appetite; and in the badger, ignoble, faithleſs, malignant, ſavage gluttony?

The profile of the lion is remarkable, eſpecially the outline of the forehead and noſe. A man, whoſe profile of forehead and noſe ſhould reſemble that of the lion, would certainly be no common man, but ſuch I have never ſeen. I own, the noſe of the lion is much leſs prominent than that of man, but much more than that of any other quadruped. Royal, brutal ſtrength, and arrogant uſurpation are evident, partly in the arching of the noſe, partly in its breadth and parallel lines, and eſpecially in the almoſt right angle, which the outline of the eyelid forms with the ſide of the noſe.

In the eye and ſ[•]out of the tyger, what blood-thirſty cruelty, what inſidious craft! Can the laugh of Satan himſelf, at a fallen ſaint, be more fiendlike than the head of the triumphant tyger? Cats are tygers in miniature, with the advantage of domeſtic education. Little better in character, inferior in power. Unmerciful to birds and mice as the tyger to the lamb. They delight in prolonging torture before they devour, and in this they exceed the tyger.

The more violent qualities of the elephant are diſcoverable in the number and ſize of his bones; his intelligence in the roundneſs of his form; and his docility in the maſſineſs of his muſcles; his art and diſcretion in the flexibility of his trunk; his retentive memory in the ſize and arching of his forehead, which approaches nearer to the outline of the human forehead than that of any other beaſt. Yet how eſſentially different is it from the human forehead, in the poſition of the eye and mouth, ſince the latter generally makes nearly a right angle with the axis of the eye and the middle line of the mouth.

The crocodile proves how very phyſiognomonical teeth are. This, like other creatures, but more viſibly and infallibly than others, in all its parts, outlines and points, has phyſiognomy that cannot be miſtaken. Thus debaſed, thus deſpicable, thus knotty, obſtinate, and wicked, thus ſunken below the noble horſe, terrific, and void of all love and affection, is this fiend incarnate.

I am but little acquainted with horſes, yet it ſeems to me indubitable, that there is as great a difference in the phyſiognomy of horſes as in that of men. The horſe deſerves to be particularly conſidered by the phyſiognomiſt, becauſe it is one of thoſe animals whoſe phyſiognomy, at leaſt in profile, is ſo much more prominent, ſharp, and characteriſtic, than that o[•] moſt other beaſts.

"Of all animals the horſe is that, which to largeneſs of ſize unites moſt proportion and elegance in the parts of his body; for, comparing him to thoſe which are immediately above or below him, we ſhall perceive that the aſs is ill made, the head of the lion is too large, the legs of the ox too ſmall, the camel is deformed, and the rhinoceros and elephant too unwieldy. There is ſcarcely any beaſt has ſo various, ſo generally marking, ſo ſpeaking a countenance, as a beautiful horſe.

"In a well made horſe, the upper part of the neck, from which the mane flows, ought to riſe at firſt in a right line; and, as it approaches the head, to form a curve ſomewhat ſimilar to the neck of the ſwan. The lower part of the neck ought to be rectilinear, in its direction from the cheſt to the nether jaw, but a little inclined forward; for, were it perpendicular, the ſhape of the neck would be defective. The upper part of the neck ſhould be thin and not fleſhy; nor the mane, which ought to be tolerably full, and the hair long and ſtraight. A fine neck ought to be long and elevated, yet proportionate to the ſize of the horſe. If too long and ſmall, the horſe would ſtrike the rider with his head; if too ſhort and fleſhy, he would bear heavy on the hand. The head is advantageouſly placed when the forehead is perpendicular to the horizon. The head ought to be bony and ſmall, not too long; the ears near each other, ſmall, erect, firm, ſtraight, free, and ſituated on the top of the head. The forehead ſhould be narrow and ſomewhat convex, the hollows filled up; the eyelids thin; the eyes clear, penetrating, full of ardour, tolerably large, as I may ſay, and projecting from the head; the pupil large, the under jaw bony, and rather thick; the noſe ſomewhat arched, the noſtrils open, and well ſlit, the partition thin; the lips fine, the mouth tolerably large, the withers high and ſharp. I muſt beg pardon for this quotation from the Encyclopedic, and for inſerting thus much of the deſcription of a beautiful horſe, in a phyſiognomonical eſſay intended to promote the knowledge and the love of man.

The more accurately we obſerve horſes, the more ſhall we be convinced, that a ſeparate treatiſe of phyſiognomy might be written on them. I have ſomewhere heard a general remark, that horſes are divided into three claſſes, the ſwan-necked, the ſtag-necked and the hog-necked. Each of theſe claſſes has its peculiar countenance and character, and from the blending of which various others originate.

The heads of ſwan-necked horſes are commonly even, the forehead ſmall, and almoſt flat; the noſe extends, arching from the eyes to the mouth; the noſtrils are wide and open; the mouth ſmall; the ears little, pointed, and projecting; the eyes large and round; the jaw below, ſmall; above, ſomething broader; the whole body well proportioned, and the horſe beautiful. This kind is cheerful, tractable, and high ſpirited. They are very ſenſible of pain, which, when dreſſing, they ſometimes expreſs by the voice. Flattery greatly excites their joy, and they will expreſs their pride of heart by parading and prancing. I will venture to aſſert, that a man with a ſwan-neck, or what is much more determinate, with a ſmooth, projecting profile, and flaxen hair, would have ſimilar ſenſibility and pride.

The ſtag-necked has ſomething, in the make of his body, much reſembling the ſtag itſelf. The neck is ſmall, large, and ſcarely bowed in the middle. He carries his head high. I have ſeen none of theſe. They are racers and hunters, being particularly adapted for ſwiftneſs by the make of the body.

The hog-necked. The neck above and below is alike broad; the head hanging downwards; the middle of the noſe is concave, in profile; the ears are long, thick, and hanging; the eyes ſmall and ugly; the noſtrils ſmall, the mouth large, the whole body round, and the coat long and rough. Theſe horſes are intractable, ſlow, and vicious; and will run the rider againſt a wall, ſtone, or tree. When held in, they rear, and endeavour to throw the rider. Blows or coaxing are frequently alike ineffectual, they continue obſtinate and reſtif.

If we examine the different heads of horſes, we ſhall find, that all cheerful, high-ſpirited, capricious, courageous horſes, have the noſe-bone of the profile convex; and that moſt of the vicious, reſtif, and idle, have the ſame bone flat or concave. In the eyes, mouth, and eſpecially in the noſtrils and jaw-bones, are remarkable varieties, concerning which I ſhall ſay nothing. I ſhall here add ſome remarks on the horſe, communicated by a friend.

The grey is the tendereſt of horſes, and we may here add, that people with light hair, if not effeminate, are yet, it is well known, of tender formation and conſtitution. The cheſnut and iron-grey, the black, and bay, are hardy; the ſorrel are the moſt hardy, and yet the moſt ſubject to diſeaſe. The ſorrel, whether well or ill-formed, is treacherous. All treacherous horſes lay their ears in the neck. They ſtare and ſtop, and lay down their ears alternately.

The following paſſage, on the ſame ſubject, is cited from another writer: "When a horſe has broad, long, widely ſeparated, hanging ears, we are well aſſured he is bad and ſluggiſh. If he lays down his ears alternately, he is fearful, and apt to ſtart. Thin, pointed, and projecting ears, on the contrary, denote a horſe of good diſpoſition."

We never find that the thick, hog-necked horſe is ſufficiently tractable for the riding-houſe, or that he is of a ſtrong nature when the tail ſhakes, like the tail of a dog. We may be certain, that a horſe with large cheerful eyes, and a fine ſhining coat, if we have no other tokens, is of a good conſtitution and underſtanding.

Theſe remarks are equally applicable to oxen and ſheep, and probably to all other animals. The white ox is not ſo long ſerviceable, for draught or labour, as the black or red: he is more weak or ſickly than theſe. A ſheep with ſhort legs, ſtrong neck, broad back, and cheerful eyes, is a good breeder, and remains peaceably with the flock. And I am of opinion, that if we may judge of the internal by the external of beaſts, men may be judged of in the ſame manner.

CHAPTER XLI.

Of Birds, Fiſhes, Serpents, and Inſects.

Birds.

BIRDS, whether compared to each other, or to other creatures, have their diſtinct characters. The ſtructure of birds throughout, is lighter than that of quadrupeds. Nature, ever ſtedfaſt to truth, thus manifeſts herſelf in the form of birds. Their necks are more pliant, their heads ſmaller, their mouths more pointed, and their garb more bright and ſhining than thoſe of quadrupeds.

Their diſtinction of character, or gradation of paſſive and active power, is expreſſed by the following phyſiognomonical varieties:

1. By the form of the ſcull. The more flat the ſcull, the more weak, flexible, tender, and ſenſible is the character of the animal. This flatneſs contains leſs, and reſiſts leſs.

2. By the length, breadth, and arching, or obliquity of their beaks; and here again we find, when there is arching, there is a greater extent of docility and capacity.

3. By the eyes which appear to have an exact correſpondence with the arching of the beak.

4. Particularly by the middle line, I cannot ſay of the mouth, but what is analagous to the mouth, the beak; the obliquity of which is ever in a remarkable proportion with the outline of the profile of the head.

Who can behold the eagle hovering in the air, the powerful lord of ſo many creatures, without perceiving the ſeal, the native ſtar of royalty in his piercing round eye, the form of his head, his ſtrong wings, his talons of braſs, and, in his whole form, his victorious ſtrength, his contemptuous arrogance, his fearful cruelty, and his ravenous propenſity?

Conſider the eyes of all living creatures from the eagle to the mole; where elſe can be found that lightning glance, which defies the rays of the ſun? Where that capacity for the reception of light? How truly, emphatically, to all who will hear and underſtand, is the majeſty of his kingly character viſible, not alone in his burning eye, but in the outline of what is analagous to the eyebone, and in the ſkin of the head, where anger and courage are ſeated? But, throughout his whole form, where are they not?

Compare the vulture with the eagle, and who does not obſerve, in his lengthened neck and beak, and in his more extended form, leſs power and nobility than in the eagle? In the head of the owl, the ignoble greedy prey; in the dove, mild, humble timidity; and in the ſwan, more nobility than in the gooſe, with leſs power than in the eagle, and tenderneſs than in the dove; more pliability than in the oſtrich; and, in the wild duck, a more ſavage animal than in the ſwan, without the force of the eagle?

Fiſh.

How different is the profile of a fiſh from that of a man! How much the reverſe of human perpendicularity! How little is there of countenance when compared to the lion! How viſible is the want of mind, reflexion, and cunning. What little or no analogy to forehead! What an impoſſibility of covering, of half, or entirely cloſing the eyes? The eye itſelf is merely circular and prominent, has nothing of the lengthened form of the eye of the fox or elephant.

Serpents.

I will allow phyſiognomy, when applied to man to be a falſe ſcience, if any being throughout nature can be diſcovered void of phyſiognomy, or a countenance which does not expreſs its character. What has leſs, yet more phyſiognomy than the ſerpent? May we not perceive in it deciſive tokens of cunning and treachery? Certainly not a trace of underſtanding or deliberate plan. No memory, no comprehenſion, but the moſt unbounded craft and falſehood. How are theſe reprobate qualities diſtinguiſhed in their forms? The very play of their colours, and wonderful meandering of their ſpots, appear to announce and to warn us of their deceit.

All men poſſeſſed of real power are upright and honeſt; craft is but the ſubſtitute of power. I do not here ſpeak of the power contained in the folds of the ſerpent; they all want the power to act immediately, without the aid of cunning. They are formed to "bruiſe the heel, and to have the head bruiſed." The judgment which God has pronounced againſt them is written on their flat, impotent forehead, mouth, and eyes.

Inſects.

How inexpreſſibly various are the characteriſtics impreſſed by the eternal Creator on all living beings! How has he ſtamped on each its legible and peculiar properties! How eſpecially viſible is this in the loweſt claſſes of animal life! The world of inſects is a world of itſelf. The diſtance between this and the world of men I own is great; yet were it ſufficiently known, how uſeful would it be to human phyſiognomy! What certain proofs of the phyſiognomy of men muſt be obtained from inſect phyſiognomy!

How viſible are their powers of deſtruction, of ſuffering and reſiſting, of ſenſibility and inſenſibility, through all their forms and gradations! Are not all the compact, hard-winged inſects phyſiognomonically and characteriſtically more capable and retentive than various light and tender ſpecies of the butterfly? Is not the ſofteſt fleſh the weakeſt, the moſt ſuffering, the eaſieſt to deſtroy? Are not the inſects of leaſt brain the beings moſt removed from man, who has the moſt brain? Is it not perceptible in each ſpecies whether it be warlike, defenſive, enduring, weak, enjoying, deſtructive, eaſy to be cruſhed, or cruſhing? How diſtinct in the external character are their degrees of ſtrength, of defence, of ſtinging, or of appetite.

The great dragon fly ſhows its agility and ſwiftneſs in the ſtructure of its wings; perpetually on flight in ſearch of ſmall flies. How ſluggiſh, on the contrary, is the crawling caterpillar! How carefully does he ſet his feet as he aſcends a leaf! How yielding his ſubſtance, incapable of reſiſtance! How peaceable, harmleſs, and indolent is the moth! How full of motion, bravery, and hardineſs, is the induſtrious ant! How loath to remove, on the contrary, is the harneſſed lady-bird!

CHAPTER XLII.

On Shades.

THOUGH ſhades are the weakeſt and moſt vapid, yet they are at the ſame time, when the light is at a proper diſtance, and falls properly on the countenance to take the profile accurately, the trueſt repreſentation that can be given of man. The weakeſt, for it is not poſitive, it is only ſomething negative, only the boundary line of half the countenance. The trueſt, becauſe it is the immediate expreſſion of nature, ſuch as not the ableſt painter is capable of drawing by hand after nature. What can be leſs the image of a living man than a ſhade? Yet how full of ſpeech! Little gold, but the pureſt.

The ſhade contains but one line; no motion, light, colour, height, or depth; no eye, ear, noſtril, or cheek; but a very ſmall part of the lip; yet how deciſively it is ſignificant! Drawing and painting, it is probable, originated in ſhades. They expreſs, as I have ſaid, but little, but the little they do expreſs is exact. No art can attain to the truth of the ſhade taken with preciſion. Let a ſhade be taken after nature with the greateſt accuracy, and with equal accuracy be afterwards reduced upon fine tranſparent oil paper. Let a profile, of the ſame ſize, be taken, by the greateſt maſter, in his happieſt moment; then let the two be laid upon each other, and the difference will be immediately evident.

I never found, after repeated experiments, that the beſt efforts of art could equal nature, either in freedom or in preciſion, but that there was always ſomething more or leſs than nature. Nature is ſharp and free: whoever ſtudies ſharpneſs more than freedom will be hard, and whoſoever ſtudies freedom more than ſharpneſs will become diffuſe and indeterminate. I can admire him only, who, equally ſtudious of her ſharpneſs and freedom, acquires equal certainty and impartiality.

To attain this, artiſt, imitator of humanity! firſt exerciſe yourſelf in drawing ſhades; afterwards copy them by hand, and next compare and correct. Without this you will with difficulty diſcover the grand ſecret of uniting preciſion and freedom.

I have collected more phyſiognomonical knowledge from ſhades alone than from every other kind of portrait; have improved phyſiognomonical ſenſation more by the ſight of them than by the contemplation of ever mutable nature. Shades collect the diſtracted attention, confine it to an outline, and thus render the obſervation more ſimple, eaſy, and preciſe. Phyſiognomy has no greater, more incontrovertable certainty of the truth of its object than that imparted by ſhade. If the ſhade, according to the general ſenſe and deciſion of all men, can decide ſo much concerning character, how much more muſt the living body, the whole appearance, and action of the man! If the ſhade be oracular, the voice of truth, the word of God, what muſt the living original be illuminated by the ſpirit of God!

Hundreds have aſked, and hundreds will continue to aſk, "What can be expected from mere ſhades?" Yet no ſhade can be viewed by any one of theſe hundred, who will not form ſome judgment on it, often accurately, more accurately than I could have judged.

In order to make the aſtoniſhing ſignificance of ſhades conſpicuous, we ought either to compare oppoſite characters of men taken in ſhade, or, which may be more convincing, to cut out of black paper, or draw, imaginary countenances widely diſſimilar. Or, again, when we have acquired ſome proficiency in obſervation▪ to double black paper, and cut two countenances; and, afterwards, by cutting with the ſciſſars, to make ſlight alterations, appealing to our eye, or phyſiognomonical feeling, at each alteration; or, laſtly, only to take various ſhades of the ſame countenance, and compare them together. Such experiments would aſtoniſh us, to perceive what great effects are produced by ſlight alteraons.

The common method of taking ſhades is accompanied with many inconveniences. It is hardly poſſible the perſon drawn ſhould ſit ſufficiently ſtill; the deſigner is obliged to change his place, he muſt approach ſo near to the perſon that motion is almoſt inevitable, and the deſigner is in the moſt inconvenient poſition; neither are the preparatory ſteps every where poſſible, nor ſimple enough. A ſeat purpoſely contrived would be more convenient. The ſhade ſhould be taken on poſt paper, or rather on thin oiled paper, well dried. Let the head and back be ſupported by a chair and the ſhade fall on the oil-paper behind a clear flat poliſhed glaſs. Let the drawer ſit behind the glaſs, holding the frame with his left hand, and, having a ſharp black lead pencil, draw with the right. The glaſs, in a detached

ſliding-frame, may be raiſed or lowered, according to the height of the perſon. The bottom of the glaſs frame, being thin, will be beſt of iron, and ſhould be raiſed ſo as to reſt ſteadily upon the ſhoulder. In the centre, upon the glaſs, ſhould be a ſmall piece of wood or iron, to which faſten a ſmall round cuſhion, ſupported by a ſhort pin, ſcarcely half an inch long, which alſo may be raiſed or lowered, and againſt which the perſon drawn may lean.

CHAPTER XLIII.

Deſcription of Plate VI.

Number I. MENDELSOHN.

IN the forehead and noſe, penetration and ſound underſtanding are evident. The mouth is much more delicate than the mouth of 2.

Number II. SPALDING.

Clear ideas, love of elegance, puri[•]y, accuracy of thought and action; does not eaſily admit the unnatural.—The forehead not ſufficiently characteriſtic, but fine taſte in the noſe.

Number III. ROGHOW.

Has more good ſenſe; prompt, accurate perception of truth, and delica[•]y,than 4: but I ſuſpect leſs acuteneſs.

Number IV. MENDELSOHN.

Whoever heſitates concerning the character of this head, never can have obſerved the forehead.—This arch, abſtractedly conſidered, eſpecially in the upper part, has more capacity than Nos. 2 and 3. In the upper outline, alſo, of the under part, underſtanding and exquiſite penetration cannot be overlooked.

Number V.

One of thoſe maſculine profiles which generally pleaſe. Conceal the under chin, and an approach to greatneſs is perceptible; except that greater variation in the outline is wanting, eſpecially in the noſe and forehead. The choleric phlegmatic man is viſible in the whole; eſpecially in the eyebrows, noſe, and bottom part of the chin; as likewiſe are integrity, fidelity, goodneſs, and complaiſance.

Number VI. LAVATER.

This ſhade, though imperfect may eaſily be known. It muſt paſs without comment, or rather the commentary is before the world, is in this book. Let that ſpeak; I am ſilent.

CHAPTER XLIV.

A Word to Travellers.

THERE appear to me to be the three things indiſpenſable to travellers, health, money, and phyſiognomy. Therefore, a phyſiognomonical word to travellers. I could wiſh, indeed, that, inſtead of a word, a traveller's phyſiognomonical companion were written; but this muſt be done by an experienced traveller. In the mean time I ſhall bid him farewel, with the following ſhort advice:

What do you ſeek, travellers? What is your wiſh? What would you ſee more remarkable, more ſingular, more rare, more worthy to be examined, than the varieties of humanity? This indeed is faſhionable. You inquire after men; you ſeek the wiſeſt, beſt, and greateſt men, eſpecially the moſt famous. Why is your curioſity limited to ſeeing only? Would it not be better you ſhould illuminate your own minds by the light of others, and animate yourſelves by their ardour?

His curioſity is childiſh, which is merely confined to ſeeing, whoſe ambition deſires only to ſay, I have beheld that man. He who would diſregard views ſo confined, muſt ſtudy ſuch men phyſiognomonically; if he would learn wiſdom, he muſt be able to compare and judge of the relation between their works, their fame and their form. By this only may much be learned. By this may the ſtream be compared to the fountain, the quality of the waters examined, their courſe, their gentle murmurs, or more boiſterous war. The inquirer may aſk, what is the degree of originality of thoſe men, what is borrowed, what is internal, what external? This forehead, and theſe eyebrows, will thus verſify, thus tranſlate, thus criticiſe; therefore, on this eye depends the fate of the writer, the blockhead, or the man of genius. This noſe thus eſtimates the mortal and the immortal, in human performances. As are the features, ſo will be the mind.

Yes, ſcholars of nature, you have much to learn from the countenances of famous men. In them you will read, that the waſp will dare to alight on the noſe of the hero. To [〈◊〉] it will be pleaſure when you have acquired this phyſiognomonical ſenſation; for, without this, you will but travel in the dark; you will but be led through a picture-gallery blindfold, only that you might ſay, I too have been in that gallery.

Could I travel unknown, I would alſo viſit artiſts, men of learning, and philoſophers, men famous in their reſpective countries; [•]ut it ſhould either be my adieu, as the thing leaſt important, or as a recreation on my arrival. Pardon me, men of renown, I have been credulous in your favour, but I daily become more circumſpect. Far be it from me to depreciate your worth. I know many, whoſe preſence does not diminiſh but increaſe fame; yet will I be careful, that remorſe ſhall neither dazzle nor cloud my reaſon.

I would rather mix unknown with the multitude, viſit churches, public walks, hoſpitals, orphan-houſes, and aſſemblies of eccleſiaſtics and men of the law. I would firſt conſider the general form of the inhabitants, their height, proportion, ſtrength, weakneſs, motion, complexion, attitude, geſture, and gait. I would obſerve them individually, ſee, compare, cloſe my eyes, trace in imagination all I had ſeen, open them again, correct my memory, and cloſe and open them alternately. I would ſtudy for words, write, and draw with a few determinate traits, the general form, ſo eaſy to be diſcovered. I would compare my drawings with the known general form of the people. How eaſily might a ſummary, an index of the people be obtained.

Having made theſe familiar to me, I would deſcend to the particular, would ſearch for the general form of the head, would aſk, Is it moſt confined to the cylindrical, the ſpherical, the ſquare, the convex, or the concave? Is the countenance open, is it writhed, is it free, or forked? I would next examine the forehead, then the eyebrows, the outline and colour of the eyes, the noſe, and eſpecially the mouth when it is open; and the teeth, with their appearances, to diſcover the national characteriſtic.

Could I but define the line of the opening of the lips, in ſeven promiſcuous countenances, I imagine I ſhould have found the general phyſiognomonical character of the nation or place. I almoſt dare to eſtabliſh it as an axiom, that what is common to ſix or ſeven perſons of any place, taken promiſcuouſly, is more or leſs common to the whole. Exceptions there may be, but they will be rare.

I next would plant myſelf in a public walk, or at the croſſing of ſtreets. There I would wait patiently for the unknown noble countenance, uncorrupted by fame and adulation, which certainly, moſt certainly, I ſhould find: for in all countries on earth, wherever a hundred common men are aſſembled, one not common may be found; and out of a thouſand, ten; and I muſt have, indeed, little eye, little ſenſibility for noble humanity, little faith in Providence, which ſeeks its adorers, if I did not find this one in a hundred, or at leaſt in the ten among the thouſand. He that ſeeketh ſhall find. I waited not in vain. He came, I found him, he paſſed by me. And what [〈◊〉] the tokens by which I diſcovered him, in every town, every nation, under every cope of heaven, and among all people, kindred, and tongues?—By the general combination of the countenance, by the upper outline of the forehead, the eyebrows, the baſis of the noſe, and the mouth, ſo conformable to each other, ſo parallel and horizontal, at the firſt glance. By the wrinkleſs, compreſſed, yet open forehead, the powerful eyebrows; the eaſily diſcerned, eaſily delineated ſpace between the eyebrows, which extends itſelf to the back of the noſe, like the great ſtreet from the market-place to the chief gate of a city. By the ſhut but freely breathing mouth; the chin, neither haggard nor fleſhy; the deep and ſhining attraction of the eye; which all, uncautiouſly and unintentionally betrayed themſelves to my reſearch: or, I diſcovered him even in his foreign and diſtorted form, from which the arrogant, ſelf-ſuppoſed handſome, would turn with contempt. I ſee through his diſguiſe, as I ſhould the hand of a great maſter through the ſmear of varniſh.

I approach the favourite of heaven. I queſtion him concerning what I do, and what I do not wiſh to know, that I may hear the voice of the ſoul proceeding from the mouth; and, viewing him nearer, I ſee all the obliquities of diſtortion vaniſh. I aſk him concerning his occupation, his family, his place of reſidence. I inquire the road thither. I come unexpectedly upon him into his houſe, into his workſhop; he riſes, I oblige him to be ſeated, to continue his labour. I ſee his children, his wife, and am delighted. He knows not what I want, nor do I know myſelf, yet I am pleaſed with him, and he with me. I purchaſe ſomething or nothing, as it happens. I inquire particularly after his friends. "You have but few, but thoſe few are faithful." He ſtands aſtoniſhed, ſmiles or weeps, in the innocence and goodneſs of his heart, which he wiſhes to conceal, but which is open as day. He gains my affection; our emotions are reciprocally expanded and ſtrengthened; we ſeparate reluctantly, and I know I have entered a houſe which is entered by the angels of God.

Oh! how gratefully, how highly is he rewarded for his labours who travels, intereſted in behalf of humanity, and with the eyes of a man, to collect, in the ſpirit, the children of God, who are ſcattered over the world! This appears to me to be the ſupreme bliſs of man, as it muſt be of angels.

If I meet him not, I have no reſource but in ſociety. Here I [•]ear him moſt who ſpeaks leaſt, mildeſt, and moſt unaffectedly. Wherever I meet the ſmile of ſelf-ſufficiency, or the oblique look of envy, I turn away, and ſeek him who remains oppreſſed by the loud voice of confidence. I ſet myſelf rather beſide the anſwerer than the man of clamorous loquacity; and ſtill rather beſide the humble inquirer than the voluble ſolver of all difficulties.

He who haſtens too faſt, or lags behind, is no companion of mine. I rather ſeek him who walks with a free, firm, and even ſtep; who looks but little about him; who neither carries his head aloft, nor contemplates his legs and feet. If the hand of affliction be heavy on him, I ſet myſelf by his ſide, take his hand, and, with a glance, infuſe conviction to his ſoul, that God is love.

I fix in my memory the ſimple outlines of the loud and the violent, the laugher and the ſmiler, of him who gives the key, and him who takes. I then commit them to paper; my collection increaſes. I compare, arrange, judge, and am aſtoniſhed. I every where find ſimilarity of traits, ſimilarity of character; the ſame humanity every where, and every where the ſame tokens.

CHAPTER XLV.

A Word to Princes and Judges.

FOR your uſe, moſt important of men, how willingly would I write a treatiſe. Who ſo much as you need a perfect knowledge of man, free from cabal, or the intervention of ſelf-intereſt! Suffer me to approach your throne, and preſent my petition.

In your moſt ſecret common place-book keep an index to each claſs of character among men, taken from at leaſt ten of the moſt accurate proofs; not at a diſtance, not among foreigners, but ſeek at home for the wiſeſt and beſt of your own ſubjects. Wherever a wiſe and good prince governs, there are excellent ſubjects. Such a prince believes that he has ſuch ſubjects, although at the moment he ſhould be unacquainted with them; or at leaſt, that he has ſubjects capable of wiſdom and goodneſs. Wherever one good perſon is, there certainly are two, as certainly as where the female is, there will the male be.

Suffer me, princes, conſecrated as you are among men, to entreat you, for the honour of humanity, principally to ſtudy, to ſeek for, and to ſeize on excellence. Judge not too ſuddenly, nor by mere appearances. That which a prince once approves, it may afterwards be difficult or dangerous to reject. Depend not on the teſtimony of others, which, to princes eſpecially, is ever exaggerated either in praiſe or blame; but examine the countenance, which, though it may diſſemble to a prince, or rather to the dignity of a prince, cannot deceive him as a man. Having once diſcovered wiſdom and goodneſs in a ſubject, honour ſuch a ſubject as the beſt bleſſing which heaven can, in this world, beſtow upon its favourites. Seek features that are ſtrong, but not forbidding; gentle, yet not effeminate; poſitive, without turbulence; natural, not arrogant; with open eyes, clear aſpects, ſtrong noſes near the forehead, and with ſuch let your thrones be ſurrounded.

Entruſt your ſecrets to proportionate and parallel drawn countenances: to horizontal, firm, compreſſed eyebrows; channelled, not too rigorouſly cloſed, red, active, but not relaxed or withered lips. Yet I will forbear to delineate, and again only entreat, that the countenance may be ſacred to you for the ſake of goodneſs and wiſdom.

And you, judges, judge not indeed by appearanances, but examine according to appearances, Juſtice blindfold without phyſiognomy is as unnatural as blindfold love. There are countenances which cannot have committed a multitude of vices. Study the traits of each vice, and the forms in which vice naturally or unwillingly reſides. There are capabilities and incapabilities in the countenance, things which it can will, others which it cannot. Each paſſion, open or concealed, has its peculiar language. The appearance of innocence is as determinate to the experienced eye as the appearance of health.

Bring guilt and innocence face to face, and examine them; in your preſence, and when they ſuppoſe you do not obſerve them; in the preſence and in the abſence of witneſſes; with juſtice ſee, with juſtice hear and obey, the determined voice of unprejudiced conviction. Remark their walk when they enter, and when they leave the judgment-hall. Let the light fall upon their countenances, be yourſelf in the ſhade. Phyſiognomy will render the torture^[3] unneceſſary, will deliver innocence, will make the moſt obdurate vice turn pale, will teach us how we may act upon the moſt hardened. Every thing human muſt be imperfect, yet will it be evident that the torture, more diſgraceful to man than the halter, the axe, and the wheel, is infinitely more uncertain and dangerous than phyſiognomy. The pain of torture is more horrible even than the ſucceeding death, yet it is only to prove, to diſcover truth. Phyſiognomy ſhall not execute, and yet it ſhall prove; and by its proof, vice alone, and not innocence, ſhall ſuffer. O ye judges of men, be men, and humanity ſhall teach you, with more open eyes, to ſee and abhor all that is human!

CHAPTER XLVI.

A Word to the Clergy.

YOU alſo my brethren, need a certain degree of phyſiognomy, and perhaps, princes excepted, no men more. You ought to know whom you have before you, that you may diſcern ſpirits, and portion out the word of truth to each, according to his need and capacity. To whom can a knowledge of the degree of actual and poſſible virtue, in all who appear before you, be more advantageous than to you?

To me phyſiognomy is more indiſpenſable than the liturgy. It is to me alike profitable for doctrine, exhortation, comfort, correction, examination; with the healthy, with the ſick, the dying, the malefactor; in judicial examinations, and the education of youth. Without it, I ſhould be as the blind leading the blind.

A ſingle countenance might rob me of ardour or inſpire me with enthuſiaſm. Whenever I preach, I generally ſeek the moſt noble countenance, on which I endeavour to act, and the weakeſt when teaching children. It is generally our own fault if our hearers are inattentive; if they do not themſelves give the key, in which it is neceſſary they ſhould be addreſſed.

Every teacher poſſeſſed of phyſiognomonical ſenſation, will eaſily diſcern and arrange the principal claſſes among his hearers, and what each claſs can and cannot receive. Let ſix or ſeven claſſes, of various capacities, be ſelected; let a chief, repreſentative, a characteriſtic countenance, of each claſs be choſen: let theſe countenances be fixed in the memory, and let the preacher accommodate himſelf to each; ſpeaking thus to one, and thus to another, and in ſuch a manner to a third.

There cannot be a more natural, effective, or definite incitement to eloquence, than ſuppoſing ſome characteriſtic countenance preſent of the capacity of which almoſt mathematical certainty may be obtained. Having ſix or ſeven, I have nearly my whole audience before me. I do not then ſpeak to the winds. God teaches us by phyſiognomy to act upon the beſt of men according to the beſt of means.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Phyſiognomonical Elucidations of Countenances.

A REGULAR well formed countenance, is where all the parts are remarkable for their ſymmetry. The principal features, as the eyes, noſe, and mouth, neither ſmall nor bloated; yet diſtinct and well-defined. In which the poſition of the parts, taken together, and viewed at a diſtance, appears nearly horizontal and parallel.

A beautiful countenance is that in which, beſides the proportion and poſition of the parts, harmony, uniformity, and mind, are viſible; in which nothing is ſuperfluous, nothing deficient, nothing diſproportionate, nothing ſuperadded, but all is conformity and concord.

A pleaſant countenance does not neceſſarily require perfect ſymmetry and harmony, yet nothing muſt be wanting, nothing burthenſome. Its pleaſantry will principally exiſt in the eye and lips, which muſt have nothing commanding, arrogant, contemptuous, but muſt generally ſpeak complacency, affability and benevolence.

A gracious countenance ariſes out of the pleaſant, when, far from any thing aſſuming, to the mildeſt benevolence are added affability and purity.

A charming countenance muſt not ſimply conſiſt either of the beautiful, the pleaſant, or the gracious; but when to theſe is added a rapid propriety of motion, which renders it charming.

An inſinuating countenance leaves no power to active or paſſive ſuſpicion. It has ſomething more than the pleaſant, by infuſing that into the heart, which the pleaſant only manifeſts.

Other ſpecies of theſe delightful countenances are, the attracting, the winning, the irrſiſtible.

Very diſtinct from all theſe are the amuſing, the divertingly loquacious, the merely mild, and alſo the tender and delicate.

Superior, and more lovely ſtill, is the purely innocent, where no diſtorted, oblique muſcle, whether in motion, or at reſt, is ever ſeen.

This is ſtill more exalted, when it is full of ſoul, of natural ſympathy and power to excite ſympathy.

When in a pure countenance good power is accompanied by a ſpirit of order, I may call it an attic countenance.

Spiritually beautiful may be ſaid of a countenance where nothing thoughtleſs, inconſiderate, rude, or ſevere, is to be expected; and the aſpect of which immediately and mildly incites emotion in the principal powers of the mind.

Noble is when we have not the leaſt indiſcretion to fear, and when the countenance is exalted above us, without a poſſibility of envy, while it is leſs ſenſible of its own ſuperiority than of the pleaſure we receive in its preſence.

A great countenance will have few ſmall ſecondary traits; will be in grand diviſions, without wrinkles; muſt exalt, muſt affect us, in ſleep, in plaiſter of Paris, in every kind of caricature; as, for example, that of Philip de Comines.

A ſublime countenance can neither be painted nor deſcribed; that by which it is diſtinguiſhed from all others can only be felt. It muſt not only move, it muſt exalt the ſpectator. We muſt at once feel ourſelves greater and leſs in its preſence than in the preſence of all others. Whoever is conſcious of its excellence, and can deſpiſe or offend it, may, as hath been before ſaid, blaſpheme againſt the Holy Ghoſt.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Physiognomonical Anecdotes.

1. I REQUIRE nothing of thee, ſaid a father to his innocent ſon, when bidding him farewel, but that you will bring me back your preſent countenance.

2. A noble, amiable, and innocent young lady, who had been educated principally in the country, ſaw her face in the glaſs as ſhe paſſed it with a candle in her hand, retiring from evening prayers, and having juſt laid down her Bible. Her eyes were caſt to the ground, with inexpreſſible modeſty, at the ſight of her own image. She paſſed the winter in town, ſurrounded by adorers, hurried away by diſſipation, and plunged in trifling amuſements. She forgot her Bible and her devotion. In the beginning of ſpring ſhe returned to her country ſeat, her chamber, and the table on which the Bible lay. Again ſhe had the candle in her hand, and again ſaw herſelf in the glaſs. She turned pale, put down the candle, retreated to a ſofa, and fell on he[•] knees: "O God! I no longer know my own face. How am I degraded! My follies and vanities are all written in my countenance. Wherefore have they been neglected, illegible, to this inſtant? O come and expel, come and utterly efface them, mild tranquillity, ſweet devotion, and ye gentle cares of benevolent love!"

3. "I will forfeit my life, (ſaid Titus of the prieſt Tacitus) if this man be not an arch knave. I have three times obſerved him ſigh and weep without cauſe; and [〈◊〉] times turn aſide to conceal a laugh he could not reſtrain, when vice or misfortune were mentioned."

4. A ſtranger ſaid to a phyſiognomiſt, "How many dollars is my face worth?"—"It is hard to determine," replied the latter. "It is worth fifteen hundred, (continued the queſtioner) for ſo many has a perſon lent me upon it, to whom I was a total ſtranger."

5. A poor man aſked alms. "How much do you want?" ſaid the perſon of whom he aſked, aſtoniſhed at the peculiar honeſty of his countenance. "How ſhall I dare to fix a ſum?" anſwered the needy perſon. "Give me what you pleaſe, Sir, I ſhall be contented and thankful."—"Not ſo," replied the phyſiognomiſt, "as God lives I will give you what you want, be it little or much."—"Then, Sir, be pleaſed to give me eight ſhillings."—"Here they are; had you aſked a hundred guineas you ſhould have had them."

CHAPTER XLIX.

Miſcellaneous Extracts from K[•]mpf's Eſſay on the Temperaments, with Remarks.

1. WILL not phyſiognomy be to man what the looking-glaſs is to an ugly woman?

Let me alſo add to the handſome woman. The wiſe looks in the glaſs, and waſhes away ſpots; the fool looks, turns back, and remains as he was.

2. "Each temperament, each character, has its good and bad. The one has inclinations of which the other is incapable. The one has more than the other. The ingot is of more worth than the guineas individually, into which it is coined; yet the latter are moſt uſeful. The tulip delights by its beauty, the carnation by its ſmell. The unſeemly wormwood diſpleaſes both taſte and ſmell, yet, in medical virtue, is ſuperior to both. There it is that each contributes to the perfection of the whole."

The carnation ſhould not wiſh to be a tulip, the finger an eye, nor the weak deſire to act within the circle of the ſtrong. Each has its peculiar circle, as it has its peculiar form. To wiſh to depart from this circle, is like wiſhing to be tranſported into another body.

3. "Within the courſe of a year, we are aſſured, that the activity of nature changes the body, yet we are ſenſible of no change of mind, although our body has been ſubjected to the greateſt changes, in conſequence of meat, drink, air, and other accidents; the difference of air and manner of life does not change the temperament."

The foundation of character lies deeper, and is, in a certain degree, independent of all accidents. It is probably the ſpiritual and immortal texture, into which all that is viſible, corruptible and tranſitory, is interwoven.

4. "A block of wood may be carved by the ſtatuary into what form he ſhall pleaſe; he may make it an AEſop or an Antinous, but he will never change the inherent nature of the wood."

To know and diſtinguiſh the materials and form of men, ſo far as knowledge contributes to their proper application, is the higheſt and moſt effectual wiſdom of which human nature is capable.

5. "In the eyes of certain perſons there is ſomething ſublime, which beams and exacts reverence. This ſublimity is the concealed power of raiſing themſelves above others, which is not the wretched effect of conſtraint, but primitive eſſence. Each finds himſelf obliged to ſubmit to this ſecret power, without knowing why, as ſoon as he perceives that look, implanted by nature to inſpire reverence, ſhining in the eyes. Thoſe who poſſeſs this natural, ſovereign eſſence, rule as lords, or lions, among men by native privilege, with heart and tongue conquering all.

6. "There are only four principal aſpects, all different from each other, the ardent, the dull, the fixed, and the fluctuating."

The proof of all general propoſitions is their application. Let phyſiognomonical axioms be applied to known individuals, friends or enemies, and their truth or falſehood, preciſion or inaccuracy, will eaſily be determined. Let us make the experiment with the above, and we ſhall certainly find there are numerous aſpects which are not included within theſe four: ſuch as the luminous aſpect, very different from the ardent, and neither fixed like the melancholic, nor fluctuating like the ſanguine.

There is the look or aſpect, which is at once rapid and fixed, and, as I may ſay, penetrates and attaches at the ſame moment. There is the tranquilly active look, neither choloric nor phlegmatic. I think it would be better to arrange them into the giving, the receiving, and the giving and receiving combined; or into intentive and extenſive; or into the attracting, repelling, and unparticipating; into the contracted, the relaxed, the ſtrained, the attaining, the unattaining, the tranquil, the ſteady, the flow, the open, the cloſe, the cold, the amorous, the complying, the firm, the courageous, the faithful, &c.

CHAPTER L.

Upon Portrait Painting.

PORTRAIT painting, is the moſt natural, manly, uſeful, noble, and, however apparently eaſy, the moſt difficult of arts. Love firſt diſcovered this heavenly art. Without love what could it perform?

Since a great part of this preſent work, and the ſcience on which it treats, depend on this art, it is proper that ſomething ſhould be ſaid on the ſubject. Something; for how new, how important, and great a work might be written on this art! For the honour of man, and of the art, I hope ſuch a work will be written. I do not think it ought to be the work of a painter, however great in his profeſſion, but of the underſtanding friend of phyſiognomy, the man of taſte, the daily confidential obſerver of the great Portrait painter.

Sultzer, that philoſopher of taſte and diſcernment, has an excellent article, in his dictionary, on this ſubject, under the word Portrait. But what can be ſaid in a work ſo confined, on a ſubject ſo extenſive? Again, whoever will employ his thoughts on this art, will find that it is ſufficient to exerciſe all the ſearching, all the active powers of man; that it never can be entirely learned, nor ever can arrive at ideal perfection.

I ſhall now attempt to recapitulate ſome of the avoidable and unavoidable difficulties attendant on this art; the knowledge of which, in my opinion, is as neceſſary to the painter as to the phyſiognomiſt.

Let us firſt inquire, What is portrait painting? It is the communication, the preſervation of the image of ſome individual; the art of ſuddenly depicting all that can be depicted of that half of man, which is rendered apparent, and which never can be conveyed in words. If what Göthe has ſomewhere ſaid, be true, and in my opinion nothing can be more true, that the beſt text for a commentary on man, is his preſence, his countenance, his form. How important then is the art of portrait painting▪

To this obſervation of Göthe's, I will add a paſſage on the ſubject from Sultzer's excellent dictionary: "Since no object of knowledge whatever can be more important to us than a thinking and ſeeling ſoul, it cannot be denied but that man, conſidered according to his form, even though we ſhould neglect what is wonderful in him, is the moſt important of viſible objects"

The portrait painter ſhould know, feel, and be penetrated with this; penetrated with reverence for the greateſt work of the greateſt maſter. Were ſuch the ſubject of his meditation, not from conſtraint, but native ſenſation; were it as natural to him as the love of life, how important, how ſacred to him would his art become! Sacred to him ſhould be the living countenance as the text of holy ſcripture to the tranſlator. As careful ſhould the one be not to falſify the work, as ſhould be the other not to falſify the word of God.

How great is the contempt which an excellent tranſlator of an excellent work deſerves, whoſe mind is wholly inferior to the mind of his original. And is it not the ſame with the portrait painter? The countenance is the theatre on which the ſoul exhibits itſelf: here muſt its emanations be ſtudied and caught. Whoever cannot ſeize theſe emanations, cannot paint; and whoever cannot ſeize theſe emanations, cannot paint; and whoever cannot paint theſe, is no portrait painter.

Each perfect portrait is an important painting, ſince it diſplays the human mind with the peculiarities of perſonal character. In ſuch we contemplate a being where underſtanding, inclinations, ſenſations, paſſions, good and bad qualities of mind and heart are mingled in a manner peculiar to itſelf. We here frequently ſee them better than in nature herſelf, ſince in nature nothing is fixed, all is ſwift, all is tranſient. In nature alſo we ſeldom behold the features under that propitious aſpect in which they will be tranſmitted by the able painter.

Could we indeed ſeize the ſleeting tranſitions of nature, or had [•]he her moments of ſtability, it would then be much more advantageous to contemplate nature than her likeneſs; but this being impoſſible, and ſince likewiſe few people will ſuffer themſelves to be obſerved, ſufficiently to deſerve the name of obſervation, it is to me indiſputable, that a better knowledge of man may be obtained from portraits than from nature, ſhe being thus uncertain, thus fugitive.

Hence the rank of the portrait painter may eaſily [•]e determined; he ſtands next to the hiſtorical painter. Nay hiſtory painting itſelf derives a part of its value from its portraits; for expreſſion, one of the important requiſites in hiſtorical painting, will be the more eſtimable, natural, and ſtrong, the more of actual phyſiognomy is expreſſed in the countenances, and copied after nature. A collection of excellent portraits is highly advantageous to the hiſtorical painter for the ſtudy of expreſſion.

Where ſhall we find the hiſtorical painter, who can repreſent real beings with all the decorations of fiction? Do we not ſee them all copying copies? True it is, they frequently copy from imagination; but this imagination is only ſtored with the faſhionable figures of their own or former times.

This premiſed, let us now enumerate ſome of the ſurmountable difficulties of portrait painting. I am conſcious the freedom with which I ſhall ſpeak my thoughts will offend, yet to give offence is [〈◊〉] from my intention. I wiſh to aid, to teach that art, which is the imitation of the works of God: I wiſh improvement. And how is improvement poſſible without a frank and undiſguiſed diſcovery of defects?

In all the works of portrait painters which I have ſeen, I have remarked the want of a more philoſophical, that is to ſay, a more juſt, intelligible, and univerſal knowledge of men. The inſect painter, who has no accurate knowledge of inſects, the form, the general, the particular, which is appropriated to each inſect, however good a copyiſt he may be, will certainly be a bad painter of inſects. The portrait painter, however excellent a copyiſt, (a thing much leſs general than is imagined by connoiſſeurs) will paint portraits ill, if he have not the moſt accurate knowledge of the form, proportion, connexion, and dependance of the great and minute parts of the human body, as far as they have a remarkable influence on the ſuperficies; if he has not moſt accurately inveſtigated each individual member and feature. For my own part, be my knowledge what it may, it is far from accurate in what relates to the minute ſpecific traits of each ſenſation, each member, each feature; yet I daily remark that this acute, this indiſpenſable knowledge, is at preſent every where uncultivated, unknown, and difficult to convey to the moſt intelligent painters.

Whoever will be at the trouble of conſidering a number of men promiſcuouſly taken, feature by feature, will find that each ear, each mouth, not withſtanding their infinite diverſity, have yet their ſmall curves, corners, characters, which are common to all, and which are found ſtronger or weaker, more or leſs marking, in all men who are not monſters born, at leaſt in theſe parts.

Of what advantage is all our knowledge of the great proportions of the body and countenance? (Yet even that part of knowledge is, by far, not ſufficiently [〈◊〉], not ſufficiently accurate. Some future phyſiognomonical painter will juſtify this aſſertion, till when be it conſidered as nothing more than cavil.) Of what advantage, I ſay, is all our knowledge of the great proportions, when the knowledge of the finer traits, which are equally true, general, determinate, and no leſs ſignificant, is wanting? And this want is ſo great, that I appeal to thoſe who are beſt informed, whether many of the ableſt painters, who have painted numerous portraits, have any tolerably accurate or general theory of the mouth only. I do not mean the anatomical mouth, but the mouth of the painter, which he ought to ſee and may ſee, without any anatomical knowledge.

I have examined volume after volume of engravings of portraits, after the greateſt maſters, and am therefore intitled to ſpeak. But let us confine obſervations to the mouth. Having previouſly ſtudied infants, boys, youth, manhood, old age, maidens, wives, matrons, with reſpect to the general properties of the mouth; and having diſcovered theſe, let us compare, and we ſhall find that almoſt all painters have failed in the general theory of the mouth; that it ſeldom happens, and ſeems only to happen by accident, that any maſter has underſtood theſe general properties. Yet how indeſcribably much depends on them! What is the particular, what the characteriſtic, but ſhades of the general! As it is with the mouth, ſo it is with the eyes, eyebrows, noſe, and each part of the countenance.

The ſame proportion exiſts between the great features of the face; and as there is this general proportion in all countenances, however various, ſo is there a ſimilar proportion between the ſmall traits of theſe parts. Infinitely varied are the great features, in their general combination and proportion. As infinitely varied are the ſhades of the ſmall traits, in theſe features, however great their general reſemblance [〈◊〉] Without an accurate knowledge of the proportion of the principal features, as for example, of the eyes and mouth, to each other, it muſt ever be mere accident, and accident that indeed rarely happens, when ſuch proportion exiſts in the works of the painter. Without an accurate knowledge of the particular conſtituent parts, and traits of each principal feature, I once again repeat, it muſt be accident, miraculous accident, ſhould any one of them be juſtly delineated.

This remark may induce the reflecting artiſt to ſtudy nature intimately by principle, and to ſhow him, if he be in ſearch of permanent fame, that, though he ought to behold and ſtudy the works of the greateſt maſters with eſteem and reverence, he yet ought to examine and judge for himſelf. Let him not make the virtue modeſty his plea, for under this does omnipreſent mediocrity ſhelter itſelf. Modeſty, indeed, is not ſo properly virtue as the garb and ornament of virtue, and of exiſting poſitive power. Let him, I ſay, examine for himſelf, and ſtudy nature in whole and in part, as if no man ever had obſerved, or ever ſhould obſerve, but himſelf. Deprived of this, young artiſt, thy glory, will but reſemble a meteor's blaze; it will only be founded on the ignorance of thy cotemporaries.

By far the greateſt part of the beſt portrait painters, when moſt ſucceſsful, like the majority of phyſiognomiſts, content themſelves with expreſſing the character of the paſſions in the moveable, the muſcular features of the face. They do not underſtand, they laugh at, rules which preſcribe the grand outline of the countenance as indiſpenſable to portrait painting, independent of the effects produced by the action of the muſcles.

Till inſtitutions ſhall be formed for the improvement of portrait painting, perhaps till a phyſiognomonical ſociety or academy ſhall produce phyſiognomonical portrait painters, we ſhall at beſt but creep in the regions of phyſiognomy, where we might otherwiſe ſoar. One of the greateſt obſtacles to phyſiognomy is the actual, incredible imperfection of this art. There is generally a defect of eye, or hand of the painter, or the object is defective which is to be delineated, or, perhaps, all three. The artiſt cannot diſcover what [〈◊〉], or cannot draw it when he diſcovers it. The object continually alters its poſition, which ought to be ſo exact, ſo continually the ſame; or ſhould it not, and ſhould the painter be endowed with an all-obſerving eye, an all-imitative hand, ſtill there is the laſt inſuperable difficulty, that of the poſition of the body, which can but be momentary, which is conſtrained, falſe, and unnatural, when more than momentary.

What I have ſaid is trifling, indeed, to what might be ſaid. According to the knowledge I have of it, this is yet uncultivated ground. How little has Sultzer himſelf ſaid on the ſubject! But what could he ſay in a dictionary? A work wholly dedicated to this is neceſſary to examine and decide on the works of the beſt portrait painters, and to inſert all the cautions and rules neceſſary for the young artiſt, in conſequence of the infinite variety, yet incredible uniformity, of the human countenance.

The artiſt who wiſhes to paint portraits perfectly, muſt ſo paint, that each ſpectator may, with truth exclaim, "This is indeed to paint! this is true, living likeneſs; perfect nature; it is not painting! Outline, form, proportion, poſition, attitude, complexion, light and ſhade, freedom, [•]aſe, nature! Nature in every characteriſtic diſpoſition! Nature in the complexion, in each trait, in her moſt beauteous, happieſt moments, her moſt ſelect, moſt propitious ſtate of mind; near at a diſtance, on every ſide Truth and Nature! Evident to all men, all ages, the ignorant and the connoiſſeur; moſt conſpicuous to him who has moſt knowledge; no ſuſpicion of art; a countenance in a mirror, to which we would ſpeak, that ſpeaks to us; that contemplates more than it is contemplated; we ruſh to it, we embrace it, we are enchanted!"

Emulate ſuch excellence, young artiſts, and the leaſt of your attainments in this age will be riches and honour, and fame in futurity. With tears you will receive the thanks of father, friend, and huſband, and your work will honour that Being, whoſe creations it is the nobleſt gift of man to imitate, only in their ſuperficies, and during a ſingle inſtant of their exiſtence.

CHAPTER LI.

Deſcription of Plate VII.

Number 1. The late KING of PRUSSIA.

HOW much yet how little is there of the royal countenance in this copy! The covered forehead, may be ſuſpected from this noſe, this ſovereign feature. The forked deſcending wrinkles of the noſe are expreſſive of killing contempt. The great eyes, with a noſe ſo bony, denotes a firmneſs and fire not eaſily to be withſtood. Wit and ſatirical fancy are apparent in the mouth though defectively drawn. There is ſomething minute ſeen in the chin which cannot well be in nature.

Number 2. The EMPRESS of RUSSIA.

Except the ſmallneſs of the noſtril, and the diſtance of the eyebrow from the outline of the forehead, no one can miſtake the princely, the ſuperior,

the maſculine firmneſs of this, nevertheleſs ſeminine, but fortunate and kind countenance.

Number 3. VOLTAIRE.

Preciſion is wanting to the outline of the eye, power to the eyebrows, the ſting, the ſcourge of ſatire to the forehead. The under part of the profile, on the contrary, ſpeaks a flow of wit, acute, exuberant, exalted, ironical, never deficient in reply.

Number 4. MALHERBE.

Here is a high, comprehenſive, powerful, firm, retentive, French forehead, that appears to want the open, free, noble eſſence of the former; has ſomething rude and productive; is more choleric; and its firmneſs appears to border on harſhneſs.

Number 5. VOISIN.

The delicate conſtruction of the forehead, the aſpect of the man of the world, the beauty of the noſe, in particular, the ſomewhat raſh, ſatirical mouth, the pleaſure loving chin, all ſhow the Frenchman of a ſuperior claſs.—The excellent companion, the fanciful wit, the ſupple courtier, are every where apparent.

Number 6. LAVATER.

A bad likeneſs of the author of theſe fragments, yet not to be abſolutely miſtaken. The whole aſpect, eſpecially the mouth, ſpeaks inoffenſive tranquillity, and benevolence bordering on weakneſs;—More underſtanding and leſs ſenſibility in the noſe than the author ſuppoſes himſelf to poſſeſs—Some talent for obſervation in the eye and eyebrows.

CHAPTER LII.

Miſcellaneous Quotations.

1. "CAMPANELLA has not only made very accurate obſervations on human faces, but was very expert in mimicking ſuch as were any way remarkable. Whenever he thought proper to penetrate into the inclinations of thoſe he had to deal with, he compoſed his face, his geſtures, and his whole body, as nearly as he could into the exact ſimilitude of the perſon he intended to examine, and then carefully obſerved what turn of mind he ſeemed to acquire by his change. So that, ſays my author, he was able to enter into the diſpoſition and thoughts of people, as effectually as if he had been changed into the very man. I have often obſerved that, on mimicking the geſtures and looks of angry, or placid, or frightened, or daring men, I have involuntarily found my mind turned into that paſſion, whoſe appearance I endeavoured to imitate. Nay, I am convinced, it is hard to avoid it, though one ſtrove to ſeparate the paſſion from its correſpondent geſtures. Our minds and bodies are ſo cloſely and intimately connected, that one is incapable of pain or pleaſure without the other. Campanella, of whom we have been ſpeaking, could ſo abſtract his attention from any ſufferings of his body, that he was able to endure the rack itſelf without much pain; and, in leſſer pains, every body muſt have obſerved, that, when we can employ our attention on any thing elſe, the pain has been for a time ſuſpended. On the other hand, if by any means the body is indiſpoſed to perform ſuch geſtures, or to be ſtimulated into ſuch emotions as any paſſion uſually produces in it, that paſſion itſelf never can ariſe, though it ſhould be merely mental, and immediately affecting none of the ſenſes. As an opiate or ſpiritous liquor ſhall ſuſpend the operation of grief, fear, or anger, in ſpite of all our efforts to the contrary; and this by inducing in the body a diſpoſition contrary to that which it receives from theſe paſſions." This paſſage is extracted from Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful.

2. "Who can explain wherein conſiſts the difference of organization between an ideot and another man?"

The naturaliſt, whether Buffon or any other, who is become famous, and who can aſk this queſtion, will never be ſatisfied with any given anſwer, even though it were the moſt formal demonſtration.

3. "Diet and exerciſe would be in vain recommended to the dying."

There are countenances which no human wiſdom or power can rectify; but that which is impoſſible to man, is not ſo to God.

4. "The appearance without muſt be deformity and ſhame, when the worm gnaws within."

Let the hypocrite, devoured by conſcience, aſſume whatever artful appearance he will, of ſeverity, tranquillity, or vague ſolemnity, his diſtortion will ever be apparent to the phyſiognomiſt.

5. "Take a tree from its native ſoil, its free air, and mountainous ſituation, and plant it in the confined circulation of a hot-houſe: there it may vegetate, but in a weak and ſickly condition. Feed the foreign animal in a den; you will find it in vain. It ſtarves in the midſt of plenty, or grows fat and feeble."

This, alas! is the mournful hiſtory of many a man.

6. "A portrait is the ideal of an individual, not of men in general."

A perfect portrait is neither more nor leſs than the circular form of a man reduced to a flat ſurface, and which ſhall have the exact appearance of the perſon for whom it was painted, ſeen in a camera obſcura.

7. I once aſked a friend, "How does it happen, that artful and ſubtle people always have one or both eyes rather cloſed?"—"Becauſe they are feeble, (anſwered he.) Who ever ſaw ſtrength and ſubtlety united? The miſtruſt of others is meanneſs towards ourſelves."

8. This ſame friend, who to me is a man of ten thouſand for whatever relates to mind, wrote two valuable letters on phyſiognomy to me, from which I am allowed to make the following extracts:

"It appears to me to be an eternal [〈◊〉], that the firſt is the only true impreſſion. Of this I offer no proof, except by aſſerting ſuch is my belief, and by appealing to the ſenſations of others. The ſtranger affects me by his appearance, and is, to my ſenſitive being, what [••]e ſun would be to a man born blind reſtored to ſight.

"Rouſſeau was right when he ſaid of D. that man [•]oes not pleaſe me though he has never done me any injury; but I muſt break with him before it comes to that.

"Phyſiognomy is as neceſſary to man as language." I may add, as natural.

CHAPTER LIII.

Miscellaneous Thoughts.

1. ALL is good. All good may, and muſt be miſuſed. Phyſiognomonical ſenſation is in itſelf as truly good as godlike, as expreſſive of the exalted worth of human nature as moral ſenſation, perhaps they are both the ſame. The ſuppreſſing, the deſtroying a ſenſation ſo deſerving of honour, where it begins to act, is ſinning againſt ourſelves, and in reality equal to reſiſting the good ſpirit. Indeed, good impulſes and actions muſt have their limits, in order that they may not impede other good impulſes and actions.

2. Each man is a man of genius in his large or ſmall ſphere. He has a certain circle in which he can act with inconceivable force. The leſs his kingdom, the more concentrated is his power, conſequently the more irreſiſtible is his form of government. Thus the bee is the greateſt of mathematicians, as far as its wants extend. Having diſcovered the genius of a man, how inconſiderable ſoever the circle of his activity may be, having caught him in the moment when his genius is in its higheſt exertions, the characteriſtic token of that genius will alſo be eaſily diſcovered.

3. The approach of the Godhead cannot be nearer, in the viſible world, and in what we denominate nature, than in the countenance of a great and noble man. Chriſt could not but truly ſay, "He who ſeeth me ſeeth Him that ſent me." God cannot, without a miracle, be ſeen any where ſo fully as in the countenance of a good man. Thus the eſſence of any man is more preſent, more certain to me, by having obtained his ſhade.

4. Great countenances awaken and ſtimulate each other, excite all that can be excited. Any nation, having once produced a Spencer, a Shakeſpeare, and a Milton, may be certain that a Steele, a Pope, and an Addiſon will follow. A great countenance has the credentials of its high original in itſelf. With calm reverence and ſimplicity nouriſh the mind with the preſence of a great countenance; its emanations ſhall attract and exalt thee. A great countenance, in a ſtate of reſt, acts more powerfully than a common countenance impaſſioned; its effects, though unreſembling, are general. The fortunate diſciples, though they knew Him not, yet did their hearts burn within them, while he talked with them by the way, and opened to them the ſcriptures. The buyers and ſellers whom he drove out of the Temple, durſt not oppoſe him.

It may from hence be conceived how certain perſons, by their mere preſence, have brought a ſeditious multitude back to their duty, although the latter had acquired the full power. That natural, unborrowed, indwelling power, which is conſequently ſuperior to any which can be aſſumed, is as evident to all eyes as the thunder of heaven is to all ears.

5. Great phyſiognomonical wiſdom not only conſiſts in diſcovering the general character of, and being highly affected by the preſent countenance, or this or that particular propenſity, but in diſcriminating the individual character of each kind of mind, and its capacity, and being able to define the circle beyond which it cannot paſs; to ſay what ſenſation, actions, and judgments, are, or are not, to be expected from the man under conſideration, that we may not idly waſte power, but diſpenſe juſt ſufficient to actuate, and put him in motion.

No man is more liable to the error of thoughtleſs haſte than I was. Four or five years of phyſiognomonical obſervation were requiſite to cure me of this too haſty waſte of power. It is a part of benevolence to give, intruſt, and participate; but phyſiognomy teaches when, how, and to whom to give. It therefore teaches true benevolence to aſſiſt where aſſiſtance is wanted, and will be accepted. Oh! that I could call at the proper moment, and with proper effect, to the feeling and benevolent heart. Waſte not, caſt not thy ſeed upon the waters, or upon a rock. Speak only to the hearer; unboſom thyſelf but to thoſe who can underſtand thee; philoſophize with none but philoſophers; ſpiritualize only with the ſpiritual. It requires greater power to bridle ſtrength than to give it the rein. To withhold is often better than to give. What is not enjoyed will be caſt back with acrimony, or trodden to waſte, and thus will become uſeleſs to all.

6. To the good be good; reſiſt not the irreſiſtible countenance. Give the eye that aſks, that comes recommended to thee by Providence, or by God himſelf, and which to reject is to reject God, who cannot aſk thee more powerfully than when entreating in a cheerful, open, innocent countenance. Thou canſt not more immediately glorify God than by wiſhing and acting well to a countenance replete with the ſpirit of God; no[•] more certainly, and abhorrently, offend and wound the majeſty of God, than by deſpiſing, ridiculing, and turning from ſuch a countenance. God cannot more effectually move man than by man. Whoever rejects the man of God, rejects God. To diſcover the radiance of the Creator in the viſage of man is the pre-eminent quality of man; it is the ſummit of wiſdom and benevolence to feel how much of this radiance is there, to diſcern this ray of Divinity through the clouds of the moſt debaſed countenances, and dig out this ſmall gem of heaven from amid the ruins and rubbiſh by which it is encumbered.

7. Shouldeſt thou, friend of man, eſteem phyſiognomy as highly as I do, to whom it daily becomes of greater worth, the more I diſcover its truth; if thou haſt an eye to ſelect the few noble, or that which is noble in the ignoble, that which is divine in all men, the immortal in what is mortal, then ſpeak little, but obſerve much; diſpute not, but exerciſe thy ſenſation; for thou wilt convince no one to whom this ſenſation is wanting.

When noble poverty preſents to you a face, in which humility, patience, faith, and love, ſhine conſpicuouſly, how ſuperior will thy joy be in his words who has told thee, "inaſmuch as thou haſt done it unto one of the leaſt of theſe my brethren, thou haſt done it unto me!"

With a ſigh of hope you will exclaim, when youth and diſſipation preſent themſelves, this forehead was delineated by God for the ſearch and the diſcovery of truth. In this eye reſts wiſdom yet unripened.

CHAPTER LIV.

Of the Union between the Knowledge of the Heart and Philanthropy.—Miſcellaneous phyſiognomical Thoughts from Holy Writ.

MAY the union between the knowledge of the heart and philanthropy be obtained by the ſame means? Does not a knowledge of the heart deſtroy or weaken philanthropy? Does not our good opinion of any man diminiſh when he is perfectly known? And if ſo, how may philanthropy be increaſed by this knowledge?

What is here alledged is truth; but it is partial truth. And how fruitful a ſource of error is partial truth! It is a certain truth, that the majority of men are loſers, by being accurately known. But it is no leſs true, that the majority of men gain as much on one ſide, as they loſe on the other by being thus accurately known. Who is ſo wiſe as never to act fooliſhly? Where is the virtue wholly unpolluted by vice; with thoughts, at all moments, ſimple, direct, and pure? I dare undertake to maintain, that all men, with ſome very rare exceptions, loſe by being known. But it may alſo be proved, by the moſt irrefragable arguments, that all men gain by being known; conſequently a knowledge of the heart is not detrimental to the love of mankind, but promotes it.

Phyſiognomy diſcovers actual and poſſible perfections, which, without its aid, muſt ever have remained hidden. The more man is ſtudied, the more power and poſitive goodneſs he will be diſcovered to poſſeſs. As the experienced eye of the painter, perceives a thouſand ſmall ſhades and colours, which are unremarked by common ſpectators, ſo the phyſiognomiſt views a multitude of actual or poſſible perfections, which eſcape the general eye of the deſpiſer, the ſlanderer, or even the more benevolent judge of mankind.

I ſpeak from experience the good which I, as a phyſiognomiſt, have obſerved in people round me, has more than compenſated that maſs of evil, which, though I appeared blind, I could not avoid ſeeing.

The more I have ſtudied man, the more have I been convinced of the general influence of his faculties; the more have I remarked, that the origin of all evil is good, that thoſe very powers which made him evil, thoſe abilities, forces, irritability, elaſticity, were all in themſelves actual, poſitive good. The abſence of theſe, indeed, would have occaſioned the abſence of an infinity of evil, but ſo would they likewiſe of an infinity of good. The eſſence of good has given birth to much evil; but it contains in itſelf the poſſibility of a ſtill infinite increaſe of good.

The leaſt failing of an individual incites a general outcry, and his character is at once darkened, trampled on, and deſtroyed. The phyſiognomiſt views and praiſes the man whom the whole world condemns. What, does he praiſe vice?—No—Does he excuſe the vicious?—No: he whiſpers, or loudly affirms, "Treat this man after ſuch a manner, and you will be aſtoniſhed at what he is able, what he may be made willing to perform. He is not ſo wicked as he appears; his countenance is better than his actions. His actions, it is true, are legible in his countenance; but not more legible than his great powers, his ſenſibility, the pliability of that heart which has had an improper bent. Give but theſe powers, which have rendered him vicious, another direction, and other objects, and he will perform miracles of virtue."

Yes, the phyſiognomiſt will pardon where the moſt benevolent philanthropiſt muſt condemn. For myſelf, ſince I have become a phyſiognomiſt, I have gained knowledge, ſo much more accurate, of ſo many excellent men, and have had ſuch frequent occaſions to rejoice my heart in the diſcoveries I made concerning ſuch men, that this, as I may ſay, has reconciled me to the whole human race. What I here mention as having happened to myſelf, each phyſiognomiſt being himſelf, a man, muſt have undoubtedly felt.

Miſcellaneous Phyſiognomonical Thoughts from Holy Writ.

"Thou haſt ſet our iniquities before thee, our ſecret ſins in the light of our countenance." Pſalm xc. 8.—No man believes in the omniſcience, or has ſo ſtrong a conviction of the preſence of God and his angels, or reads the hand of heaven ſo viſible in the human countenance, as the phyſiognomiſt.

"Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his ſtature?—And why take ye thought for raiment?—Seek ye firſt the kingdom of God, and his righteouſneſs, and all theſe things ſhall be added unto you." Matt. vi. 27, 28, 33.—No man, therefore, can alter his form. The improvement of the internal will alſo be the improvement of the external. Let men take care of the internal, and a ſufficient care of the external will be the reſult.

"When ye faſt, be not as the hypocrites, of a ſad countenance; for they dis[•]igure their faces that they may appear unto men to faſt. Verily I ſay unto you, they have their reward. But thou, when thou faſteſt, anoint thine head and waſh thy face, that thou appear not unto men to faſt, but unto thy Father which is in ſecret, and thy Father, which ſeeth in ſecret, ſhall reward thee openly." Matt. vi. 16, 17, 18—Virtue, like vice, may be concealed from men, but not from the Father in ſecret, nor from him in whom his ſpirit is, who fathoms not only the depths of humanity but of divinity. He is rewarded, who means that the good he has ſhould be ſeen in his countenance.

"Some ſeeds fell by the way ſide, and the fowls came and devoured them up; ſome fell upon ſtony places, where they had not much earth, and forthwith they ſprung up, becauſe they had no deepneſs of earth; and when the ſun was up they were ſcorched, and becauſe they had not earth they withered away; and ſome fell among thorns, and the thorns ſprung up and choaked them; but others fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, ſome an hundred fold, ſome ſixty fold, ſome thirty fold." Matt. xiii. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.—There are many men, many countenances, in whom nothing can be planted, each fowl devours the ſeed; or they are hard like ſtone, with little earth, (or fleſh) have habits which ſtifle all that is good. There are others that have good bones, good [〈◊〉], with a happy proportion of each, and no [〈◊◊〉].

"For whoſoever hath to him ſhall be given, and he ſhall have more abundance; but whoſoever hath not, from him ſhall be taken away even that he hath." Matt. xiii. 12.—True again of the good and bad countenance. He who is faithful to the propenſities of nature, he hath, he enjoys, he will manifeſtly be ennobled. The bad will loſe even the good traits he hath received.

"Take heed that you deſpiſe not one of theſe little ones; for I ſay unto you, that in heaven their angles do always behold the face of my father which is in heaven." Matt. xviii. 10.—Probably the angels ſee the countenance of the father in the countenance of the children.

"If any man have ears to hear let him hear. Do you not perceive, that whatever thing from without entereth into the man it cannot defile him, becauſe it entereth not into his heart, but into the belly, and goeth out into the draught, purging all meats? And he ſaid, that which cometh out of the man, that de[•]ileth the man." Mark vii. 16, 18, 19, 20.—This is phyſiognomonically true. Not external accidents, nor ſpots which may be waſhed away, not wounds which may be healed, nor even ſcars which remain, will defile the countenance in the eye of the phyſiognomiſt, neither can paint beautify it to him.

"A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump." Galat. v. o.—A little vice often deforms the whole countenance. One ſingle falſe trait makes the whole a caricature.

"Ye are our epiſtle, written in our hearts, known and read of all men. Foraſmuch as ye are manifeſtly declared to be the epiſtle of Chriſt miniſtered by us, written not with ink, but with the ſpirit of the living God." 2 Cor. iii. 2, 3.—What need have the good of letters of recommendation to the good? The open countenance recommends itſelf to the open countenance. No letters of recommendation can recommend the perfidious countenance, nor can any ſlanderer deprive the countenance, beaming with the divine ſpirit, of its letters of recommendation. A good countenance is the beſt letter of recommendation.

I ſhall conclude with the important paſſage from the epiſtle to the Romans:

"God hath concluded them all in unbelief, that he might have mercy upon all. Oh! the depth of the riches, both of the wiſdom and knowledge of God! How unſearchable are his judgments, and his ways paſt finding out! For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counſellor? or who hath firſt given to him, and it ſhall be recompenſed unto him again? For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things. To whom be glory for ever. Amen."

CHAPTER LV.

Of the apparently falſe deciſions of Phyſiognomy—Of the general Objections made to Phyſiognomy—Particular objections anſwered.

ONE of the ſtrongeſt objections to the certainty of phyſiognomy is, that the beſt phyſiognomiſts often judge very erroneouſly.

It may be proper to make ſome remarks on this objection.

Be it granted the phyſiognomiſt often errs; that is to ſay, his diſcernment errs, not the countenance—But to conclude there is no ſuch ſcience as phyſiognomy, becauſe phyſiognomiſts err, is the ſame thing as to conclude there is no reaſon, becauſe there is much falſe reaſoning.

To ſuppoſe that, becauſe the phyſiognomiſt has made ſome falſe deciſions, he has no phyſiognomonical diſcernment, is equal to ſuppoſing that a man, who had committed ſome miſtakes of memory, has no memory; or, at beſt, that his memory is very weak.—We muſt be leſs haſty. We muſt firſt inquire in what proportion his memory is faithful, how often it has failed, how often been accurate. The miſer may perform ten acts of charity; muſt we therefore affirm he is charitable? Should we not rather inquire how much he might have given, and how often it has been his duty to give?—The virtuous man may have ten times been guilty, but before he is condemned, it ought to be aſked, in how many hundred inſtances he has acted uprightly? He who games muſt oftener loſe than he who refrains from gaming. He who ſlides or ſkaits upon the ice is in danger of many a fall, and of being laughed at by the leſs adventurous ſpectator. Whoever frequently gives alms, is liable, occaſionally, to diſtribute his bounties to the unworthy. He, indeed, who never gives cannot commit the ſame miſtake, and may truly vaunt of his prudence, ſince he never furniſhes opportunities for deceit. In like manner, he who never judges never can judge falſely. The phyſiognomiſt judges oftener than the man who ridicules phyſiognomy, conſequently muſt oftener err than he who never riſks a phyſiognomonical deciſion.

Which of the favourable judgments of the benevolent phyſiognomiſt may not be decried as falſe? Is he not himſelf a mere man, however circumſpect, upright, honourable and exalted he may be; a man who has in himſelf the root of all evil, the germe of every vice; or, in other words, a man whoſe moſt worthy propenſities, qualities, and inclinations, may occaſionally be overſtrained, wreſted, and warped?

You behold a meek man, who, after repeated and continued provocations to wrath, perſiſts in ſilence; who, probably, never is overtaken by anger, when he himſelf alone is injured. The phyſiognomiſt can read his heart, fortified to bear and forbear, and immediately exclaims, behold the moſt amiable, the moſt unconquerable, gentleneſs.—You are ſilent—You laugh—You leave the place, and ſay, "[•]ye on ſuch a phyſiognomiſt! How full of wrath have I ſeen this man!"—When was it that you ſaw him in wrath?—Was it not when ſome one had miſtreated his friend?—"Yes, and he behaved like a frantic man in defence of this friend, which is proof ſufficient that the ſcience of phyſiognomy is a dream, and the phyſiognomiſt a dreamer."—But who is in an error, the phyſiognomiſt or his cenſurer?—The wiſeſt man may ſometimes utter folly—This the phyſiognomiſt knows, but, regarding it not, reveres and pronounces him a wiſe man.—You ridicule the deciſion, for you have heard this wiſe man ſay a foolish thing.—Once, more, who is in an error?—The phyſiognomiſt does not judge from a ſingle incident, and often not from ſeveral combining incidents.—Nor does he, as a phyſiognomiſt, judge only by actions. He obſerves the propenſities, the character, the eſſential qualities and powers, which often, are apparently contradicted by individual actions.

Again—He who ſeems ſtupid or vicious may yet probably poſſeſs indications of a good underſtanding, and propenſities to every virtue. Should the beneficent eye of the phyſiognomiſt, who is in ſearch of good, [〈◊〉], theſe qualities, and announce them; ſhould he not pronounce a decided judgment againſt the man, he immediately becomes a ſubject of laughter. Yet how often may diſpoſitions to the moſt heroic virtue be there buried! How often may the fire of genius lay deeply ſmothered beneath the embers!—Wherefore do you ſo anxiouſly, ſo attentively, rake among theſe aſhes?—Becauſe here is warmth—Notwithſtanding that at the firſt, ſecond, third, fourth raking, duſt only will fly in the eyes of the phyſiognomiſt and ſpectator. The latter retires laughing, relates the attempt, and makes other laugh alſo. The former may perhaps patiently wait and warm himſelf by the flame he has excited. Innumerable are the inſtances where the moſt excellent qualities are over grown and ſtif[•]ed by the weeds of error. Futurity ſhall diſcover why, and the diſcovery ſhall not be in vain. The common unpractiſed eye beholds only a deſolate wilderneſs. Education, circumſtances, neceſſities, ſtifle every effort toward perfection. The phyſiognomiſt inſpects, becomes attentive, and waits. He ſees and obſerves a thouſand contending contradictory qualities; he hears a multitude of voices exclaiming, What a man! But he hears too the voice of the Deity exclaim What a man! He prays, while thoſe revile who cannot comprehend, or, if they can, will not, that in the countenance, under the form they view, lie concealed beauty, power, wiſdom, and a divine nature.

Still further, the phyſiognomiſt, or obſerver of man, who is a man, a Chriſtian, that is to ſay a wiſe and good man, will a thouſand times act contrary to his own phyſiognomonical ſenſations, I do not expreſs myſelf accurately—He appears to act contrary to his internal judgment of the man. He ſpeaks not all he thinks—This is an additional reaſon why the phyſiognomiſt ſo often appears to err; and why the true obſerver, obſervation and truth are in him, is ſo often miſtaken, and ridiculed. He reads the villain in the countenance of the beggar at his door, yet does not turn away, but ſpeaks friendly to him, ſearches his heart, and diſcovers;—Oh God, what does he diſcover!—An immeaſurable abyſs, a chaos of vice!—But does he diſcover nothing more, nothing good?—Be it granted he finds nothing good, yet he there contemplates clay which muſt not ſay to the potter, why haſt thou made me thus? He ſees, prays, turns away his face, and hides a tear which ſpeaks, with eloquence inexpreſſible, not to man, but to God alone. He ſtretches out his friendly hand, not only in pity to a hapleſs wife, whom he has rendered unfortunate, not only for the ſake of his helpleſs innocent children, but in compaſſion to himſelf, for the ſake of God, who has made all things, even the wicked themſelves, for his own glory. He gives, perhaps, to kindle a ſpark which he yet perceives, and this is what is called (in ſcripture) giving his heart.—Whether the unworthy man miſuſes the gift, or miſuſes it not, the judgment of the donor will alike be arraigned. Whoever hears of the gift will ſay, How has this good man again ſuffered himſelf to be deceived!

Man is not to be the judge of man, and who feels this truth more coercively than the phyſiognomiſt? The mightieſt of men, the Ruler of man, came not to judge the world, but to ſave. Not that he did not ſee the vices of the vicious, nor that he concealed them from himſelf or others, when philanthropy required they ſhould be remarked and detected. Yet he judged not, puniſhed not.—He for gave—"Go thy way ſin no more." Judas he received as one of his diſciples, protected him, embraced him—Him in whom he beheld his future betrayer.

Good men are moſt apt to diſcover good—Thine eye cannot be chriſtian if thou giveſt me not thy heart. Wiſdom without goodneſs is folly, I will judge juſtly and act benevolently.

Once more—A profligate man, an abandoned woman, who have ten times been to blame when they affirmed they were not, on the eleventh are condemned when they are not to blame. They apply to the phyſiognomiſt. He inquires, and finds that, this time they are innocent. Diſcretion loudly tells him he will be cenſured ſhould he ſuffer it to be known that he believes them innocent; but his heart more loudly commands him to ſpeak, to bear witneſs for the preſent innocence of ſuch rejected perſons. A word eſcapes him and a multitude of reviling voices are at once heard—"Such a judgment ought not to have been made by a phyſiognomiſt!"—Yet who has decided erroneouſly?

The above are a few hints and reaſons to the diſcerning, to induce them to judge as cautiouſly concerning the phyſiognomiſt, as they would wiſh him to judge concerning themſelves, or others.

Of the general Objections made to Phyſiognomy.

Innumerable are the objections which may be raiſed againſt the certainty of judgments drawn from the lines and features of the human countenance. Many of theſe appear to me to be eaſy, many difficult, and ſome impoſſible to be anſwered.

Before I ſelect any of them, I will firſt ſtate ſome general remarks, the accurate conſideration, and proof of which will remove many difficulties.

It appears to me that, in all reſearches, we ought firſt to inquire what can be ſaid in defence of any propoſition. One irrefragable proof of the actual exiſtence and certainty of a thing will overbalance ten thousand objections. One poſitive witneſs, who has all poſſible certainty that knowledge and reaſon can give, will preponderate againſt innumerable others who who are only negative. All objections againſt a certain truth are in reality only negative evidence. "We never obſerved this: we never experienced that."—Though ten thouſand ſhould make this aſſertion, what would it prove againſt one man of underſtanding, and ſound reaſon, who ſhould anſwer, "But I have obſerved, and you, alſo, may obſerve, if you pleaſe." No well founded objection can be made againſt the exiſtence of a thing viſible to ſenſe. Argument cannot diſprove fact. No two oppoſing poſitive facts can be adduced; all objections, to a fact, therefore, muſt be negative.

Let this be applied to phyſiognomy. Poſitive proofs of the true and acknowleged ſignification of the face and its features, againſt the clearneſs and certainty of which nothing can be alledged, render innumerable objections, although they cannot probably be anſwered, perfectly inſignificant. Let us therefore endeavour to inform ourſelves of thoſe poſitive arguments which phyſiognomy affords. Let us firſt make ourſelves ſtedfaſt in what is certainly true, and we ſhall ſoon be enabled to anſwer many objections, or to reject them as unworthy any anſwer.

It appears to me that in the ſame proportion as a man remarks and adheres to the poſitive, will be the ſtrength and perſeverance of his mind. He whoſe talents do not ſurpaſs mediocrity is accuſtomed to overlook the poſitive, and to maintain the negative with invincible obſtinacy.

Thou ſhouldeſt firſt conſider what thou art, what is thy knowledge, and what are thy qualities and powers, before thou inquireſt what thou art not, knoweſt not, and what the qualities and powers are that thou haſt not? This is a rule which every man who wiſhes to be wiſe, virtuous and happy ought, not only to preſcribe to himſelf, but, if I may uſe ſo bold a figure, to incorporate with, and make a part of, his very ſoul. The truly wiſe always firſt directs his inquiries con[••]rning what is; the man of weak intellect, the pedant, firſt ſearches for that which is wanting. The true philoſopher looks firſt for the poſitive proofs of the propoſition. I ſay firſt—I am very deſirous that my meaning ſhould not be miſunderſtood, and, therefore, repeat, firſt. The ſuperficial mind firſt examines the negative objections—This has been the method purſued by infidels, the opponents of Chriſtianity. Were it granted that Chriſtianity were falſe, ſtill this method would neither be logical, true, nor concluſive. Therefore ſuch modes of reaſoning muſt be ſet aſide, as neither logical nor concluſive, before we can proceed to anſwer objections.

To return once more to phyſiognomy, the queſtion will be reduced to this—"Whether there are any proofs ſufficiently poſitive and deciſive, in favour of phyſiognomy, to induce us to diſregard the moſt plauſible objections?"—Of this I am as much convinced as I am of my own exiſtence; and every unprejudiced reader will be the ſame, who ſhall read this work through, if he only poſſeſs ſo much diſcernment and knowledge as not to deny that eyes are given us to ſee! although there are innumerable eyes in the world that look and do not ſee.

It may happen that learned men, of a certain deſcription, will endeavour to perplex me by argument. They, for example, may cite the female buterfly of Reaumur, and the large winged ant, in order to prove how much we may be miſtaken, with reſpect to final cauſes, in the products of nature—They may aſſert, wings, undoubtedly appear to be given for the purpoſe of flight, yet theſe infects never fly; therefore wings are not given for that purpoſe.—And by a parity of reaſoning, ſince there are wiſe men, who, probably do not ſee, eyes are not given for the purpoſe of ſight.—To ſuch objections I ſhall make no reply, for never, in my whole life, have I been able to anſwer a ſophiſm. I appeal only to common ſenſe. I view a certain number of men, who all have the gift of fight, when they open their eyes, and there is light, and who do not ſee when their eyes are ſhut. As this certain number are not ſelect, but taken promiſcuouſly, among millions of exiſting men, it is the higheſt poſſible degree of probability that all men, whoſe formation is ſimilar, that have lived, do live, or ſhall live, being alike provided with thoſe organs we call eyes, muſt ſee. This at leaſt, has been the mode of arguing and concluding among all nations, and in all ages. In the ſame degree as this mode of reaſoning is convincing, when applied to other ſubjects, ſo it is when applied to phyſiognomy, and is equally applicable; and, if untrue in phyſiognomy, it is equally untrue in every other inſtance.

I am therefore of opinion, that the defender of phyſiognomy may reſt the truth of the ſcience on this propoſition, That it is univerſally confeſſed that, among ten, twenty, or thirty men, indiſcriminately ſelected, there as certainly exiſts a phyſiognomonical expreſſion, or demonſtrable correſpondence of internal power and ſenſation, with external form and figure, as that, among the like number of men, in the like manner ſelected, they have eyes and can ſee. Having proved this, he has as ſufficiently proved the univerſality and truth of phyſiognomy as the univerſality of ſight by the aid of eyes, having ſhown that ten, twenty, or thirty men, by the aid of eyes, are all capable of ſeeing. From a part I draw a concluſion to the whole; whether thoſe I have ſeen or thoſe I have not.

But it will be anſwered, though this may be proved of certain features, does it therefore, follow that it may be proved of all?—I am perſuaded it may: if I am wrong ſhow me my error.

Having remarked that men who have eyes and ears ſee and hear, and being convinced that eyes were given him for the purpoſe of ſight, and ears for that of hearing; being unable longer to doubt that eyes and ears have their deſtined office, I think I draw no improper concluſion, when I ſuppoſe that every other ſenſe, and member, of this ſame human body, which ſo wonderfully form a whole, has each a particular purpoſe; although it ſhould happen that I am unable to diſcover what the particular purpoſes of ſo many ſenſes, members, and integuments may be. Thus do I reaſon alſo, concerning the ſignification of the countenance of man, the formation of his body, and the diſpoſition of his members.

If it can be proved that any two or three features have a certain determinate ſignification, as determinate as that the eye is the expreſſion of the countenance, is it not accurate to conclude, according to the mode of reaſoning above cited, univerſally acknowledged to be juſt, that thoſe features are alſo ſignificant, with the ſignification of which I am unacquainted—I think myſelf able to prove, to every perſon of the commoneſt underſtanding, that all men without exception, at leaſt under certain circumſtances, and in ſome particular feature, may, indeed, have more than one feature, of a certain determinate ſignification; as ſurely as I can render it comprehenſible, to the ſimpleſt perſon, that certain determinate members of the human body are to anſwer certain determinate purpoſes.

Twenty or thirty men, taken promiſcuouſly, when they laugh, or weep, will, in the expreſſion of their joy or grief, poſſeſs ſomething in common with, or ſimilar to, each other. Certain features will bear a greater reſemblance to each other among them than they otherwiſe do, when not in the like ſympathetic ſtate of mind.

To me it appears evident that, ſince exceſſive joy and grief are univerſally acknowledged to have their peculiar expreſſions, and that the expreſſion of each is as different as the different paſſions of joy and grief, it muſt, therefore, be allowed that the ſtate of reſt, the medium between joy and grief, ſhall likewiſe have its peculiar expreſſion; or, in other words, that the muſcles which ſurround the eyes and lips, will indubitably be found to be in a different ſtate.

If this be granted concerning the ſtate of the mind in joy, grief, or tranquillity; why ſhould not the ſame be true concerning pride, humility, patience, magnanimity, and other affections?

According to certain laws the ſtone [•]lies upward, when thrown with ſufficient force; by other laws, equally certain, it afterwards falls to the earth; and will it not remain unmoved according to laws equally fixed if ſuffered to be at reſt? Joy according to certain laws expreſſed in one manner, grief in another, and tranquillity in a third. Wherefore then ſhall not anger, gentleneſs, pride, humility, and other paſſions, be ſubject to certain laws; that is, to certain fixed laws?

All things in nature are or are not ſubjected to certain laws. There is a cauſe for all things or there is not. All things are cauſe and effect, or are not. Ought we not hence to derive one of the firſt axioms of philoſophy? And, if this be granted, how immediately is phyſiognomy relieved from all objections, even from thoſe which we know not how to anſwer; that is, as ſoon as it ſhall be granted there are certain characteriſtic features, in all men, as characteriſtic as the eyes are to the countenance!

But, it will be ſaid, how different are the expreſſions of joy and grief, of the thoughtful and the thoughtleſs! And how may theſe expreſſions be reduced to rule?

How different from each other are the eyes of men, and of all creatures; the eye of an eagle from the eye of a mole, an elephant, and a fly! and yet we believe of all who have no evident ſigns of infirmity, or death, that they may ſee.

The feet and ears are as various as are the eyes; yet we univerſally conclude of them all, they were given us for the purpoſes of hearing and walking.

Theſe varieties by no means prevent our believing that the eyes, ears, and feet, are the expreſſions, the organs of ſeeing, hearing, and walking; and why ſhould we not draw the ſame concluſions concerning all features and lineaments of the human body? The expreſſions of ſimilar diſpoſitions of mind cannot have greater variety than have the eyes, ears and feet, of all beings that ſee, hear, and walk; yet may we as eaſily obſerve and determine what they have in common, as we can obſerve and determine what the eyes, ears, and feet, which are ſo various, among all beings that ſee, hear, and walk, have alſo in common. This well conſidered, how many objections will be anſwered or, become inſignificant!

Various Objections to Phyſiognomy Anſwered.

Objection 1. "It is ſaid, we find perſons who, from youth to old age, without ſickneſs, without debauchery, have continually a pale, death-like aſpect; who, nevertheleſs, enjoy an uninterrupted and confirmed ſtate of health."

Anſwer. Theſe are uncommon caſes. A thouſand men will ſhow their ſtate of health by the complexion and roundneſs of the countenance, to one in whom theſe appearances will differ from the truth.—I ſuſpect that theſe uncommon caſes are the effects of impreſſions, made on the mother, during her ſtate of pregnancy.—Such caſes may be conſidered as exceptions, the accidental cauſes of which may, perhaps, not be difficult to diſcover.

To me it ſeems we have as little juſt cauſe hence to draw concluſions againſt the ſcience of phyſiognomy, as we have againſt the proportion of the human body, becauſe there are dwar[•]s, giants, and monſtrous births.

Objection 2. A friend writes me word, "He is acquainted with a man of prodigious ſtrength, who, the hands excepted, has every appearance of weakneſs, and would be ſuppoſed weak by all to whom he ſhould be unknown."

Anſwer. I could wiſh to ſee this man. I much doubt whether his ſtrength be only expreſſed in his hands, or, if it were, ſtill it is expreſſed, in the hands; and, were no exterior ſigns of ſtrength to be found, ſtill he muſt be conſidered as an exception, an example unexampled. But, as I have ſaid, I much doubt the fact. I have never yet ſeen a ſtrong man whoſe ſtrength was not diſcoverable in various parts.

Objection 3. "We perceive the ſigns of bravery and heroiſm in the countenances of men who are, notwithſtanding, the firſt to run away."

Anſwer. The leſs the man is the greater he wiſhes to appear.

But what were theſe ſigns of heroiſm? Did they reſemble thoſe found in the Farneſian Hercules?—Of this I doubt: let them be drawn, let them be produced; the phyſiognomiſt will probably ſay, at the ſecond, if not at the firſt, glance, quanta ſpecies▪ Sickneſs, accident, melancholy, likewiſe, deprive the braveſt men of courage. This contradiction, however ought to be apparent, to the phyſiognomiſt.

Objection 4. "We find perſons whoſe exterior appearance denotes extreme pride, and who, in their actions, never betray the leaſt ſymptom of pride."

Anſwer. A man may be proud, and affect humility.

Education and habit may give an appearance of pride, although the heart be humble; but this humility of heart will ſhine through an appearance of pride, as ſunbeams through tranſparent clouds. It is true that this apparently proud man would have more humility had he leſs of the appearance of pride.

Objection 5. "We ſee mechanics who, with incredible ingenuity, produce the moſt curious works of art, and bring them to the greateſt perfection; yet who, in their hands and bodies, reſemble the rudeſt peaſants and wood-cutters; while the hands of fine ladies are totally incapable of ſuch minute and curious performances."

Anſwer. I ſhould deſire theſe rude and delicate frames to be brought together and compared.—Moſt naturaliſts deſcribe the elephant as groſs and ſtupid in appearance; and, according to this apparent ſtupidity, or rather according to that ſtupidity which they aſcribe to him, wonder at his addreſs. Let the elephant and the tender lamb be placed ſide by ſide, and the ſuperiority of addreſs will be viſible from the formation and flexibility of the body without farther trial.

Ingenuity and addreſs do not ſo much depend upon the maſs as upon the nature, mobility, internal ſenſation, nerves, conſtruction, and ſuppleneſs of the body and its parts.

Delicacy is not power, power is not minuteneſs. Apelles would have drawn better with charcoal than many miniature painters with the fineſt pencil. The tools of a mechanic may be rude, and his mind the very reverſe. Genius will work better with a clumſy hand, than ſtupidity with a hand the moſt pliable.—I will indeed allow your objection to be well founded, if nothing of the character of an artiſt is diſcoverable in his countenance; but, before you come to a deciſion, it is neceſſary you ſhould be acquainted with the various marks that denote mechanical genius, in the face. Have you conſidered the luſtre, the acuteneſs, the penetration, of his eyes; his rapid, his deciſive, his firm aſpect; the projecting bones of his brow, his arched forehead, the ſuppleneſs, the delicacy, or the maſſineſs of his limbs? Have you well conſidered theſe particulars? "I could not ſee it in him," is eaſily ſaid. More conſideration is requiſite to diſcover the character of the man.

Objection 6. "There are perſons of peculiar penetration who have very unmeaning countenances."

Anſwer. The aſſertion requires proof.

For my own part, after many hundred miſtakes, I have continually found the fault was in my want of proper obſervation.—At firſt, for example, I looked for the tokens of any particular quality, too much in one place; I ſought and found it not, although I knew the perſon poſſeſſed extraordinary powers. I have been long before I could diſcover the ſeat of character. I was deceived, ſometimes by ſeeking too partially, at others, too generally. To this I was particularly liable in examining thoſe who had only diſtinguiſhed themſelves in ſome particular purſuit; and, in other reſpects, appeared to be perſons of very common abilities, men whoſe powers were all concentrated to a point, to the examination of one ſubject; or men whoſe powers were very indeterminate: I expreſs myſelf improperly, powers which had never been excited, brought into action. Many years ago, I was acquainted with a great mathematician, the aſtoniſhment of Europe; who, at the firſt ſight, and even long after, appeared to have a very common countenance. I drew a good likeneſs of him, which obliged me to pay a more minute attention, and found a particular trait which was very marking and deciſive. A ſimilar trait to this, I many years afterwards, diſcovered in another perſon, who, though widely different, was alſo a man of great talents; and who, this trait excepted, had an unmeaning countenance, which ſeemed to prove the ſcience of phyſiognomy all erroneous. Never ſince this time have I diſcovered that particular trait in any man who did not poſſes ſome peculiar merit, however ſimple his appearance might be.

This proves how true and falſe, at once, the objection may be which ſtates, "Such a perſon appears to be a weak man, yet has great powers of mind."

I have been written to concerning D'Alembert, whoſe countenance, contrary to all phyſiognomonical ſcience, was one of the moſt common. To this I can make no anſwer, unleſs I had ſeen D'Alembert. This much is certain, that his profile, by Cochin, which yet muſt be very inferior to the original, not to mention other leſs obvious traits, has a forehead, and in part a noſe, which were never ſeen in the countenance of any perſon of moderate, not to ſay mean, abilities.

Objection 7. "We find very ſilly people with very expreſſive countenances."

Who does not daily make this remark? My only anſwer, which I have repeatedly given, and which I think perfectly ſatisfactory, is, that the endowments of nature may be excellent; and yet by want of uſe, or abuſe, may be deſtroyed. Power is there, but it is power miſapplied: the fire waſted in the purſuit of pleaſure can no longer be applied to the diſcovery and diſplay of truth.—It is fire without light, fire that ineffectually burns.

I have the happineſs to be acquainted with ſome of the greateſt men in Germany and Switzerland; and I can, upon my honour, aſſert that, of all the then of genius with whom I am acquainted, there [〈◊〉] not one who does not expreſs the degree of invention and powers of mind he poſſeſſes in the features of his countenance, and particularly in the form of his head.

I ſhall only ſelect the following names, from an innumerable multitude. Charles XII. Louis XIV. Turenne, Sully, Polignac, Monteſquieu, Voltaire, Diderot.—Newton, Clarke, Maupertuis, Pope, Locke, Swift, Leſſing, Bodmer, Sultzer, Haller. I believe the character of greatneſs in theſe heads is viſible in every well drawn outline. I could produce numerous ſpecimens, among which an experienced eye would ſcarcely ever be miſtaken.

FINIS.

Marginal notes

1. The following lines, to the end of the Introduction, contain M[•] Lavater's own remarks on himſelf. ↩
2. Thoſe paſſages, which are not marked with inverted [•••]mas, are the obſervations of M. Lavater, on the different parts of [〈◊〉] Eſſay. ↩
3. A few years ſince one philoſopher wrote to another, the torture will ſoon be aboliſhed in Auſtria. It was aſked, What ſhall be its ſubſt[••]ute? The penetrating look of the judge, replied Sonnenſels. Phyſiognomy will, in twenty-[••]ve years, become a part of juriſprudence, inſtead of the torture, and lectures will be read in the univerſities on the Phyſiognom[•]c[•] [•]orence, inſtead of the Medicina [•]orenſis. ↩