CHAPTER XII. GENIUS. THE eye of genius is very different to that eye which allows the feelings to lead and predominate; with genius there is none of that fluctuating or flickering, which indicates the shallowness of the stream. The brow is sometimes drawn back, so that the ball appears very prominent; the eye assumes to represent the whole soul, and seems to suppress the office of every other feature: there is then an imperialism in the eye which belongs to the grand and sublime. It moves slowly, calmly, and in curves through a sphere of moderate extent; the look is pleasing, very intelligent, and sometimes keen; the pupil is contracted, and the iris in a state of tension; the lustre is sometimes most dazzling; the brow is rather bent down, and not unfrequently indented. Doubtless no power or attribute of the mind can execute its mission, unless all other parts of the mind are in due order; and perhaps it is somewhat difficult to give a definition to genius. We consider strong imagination, piercing judgment, originality, and invention, with independence of thought and action, as indispensable elements of genius. It is the power of clearly conceiving and properly combining images and sentiments, either as they relate to utility or refined taste; it is the highest effect of sensibility and reason-the power of associating ideas harmoniously. Poetry, painting, and music are sciences peculiarly beholden to genius: poetry is the language of pure passion; painting is silent poetry; music is the accent of passionate expression. Some do not allow this grand power to be one of the properties of woman; but, if we are correct in our analysis, we can testify to the contrary. We must remember Boadicea, Eleanora of Aquitaine, Queen Elizabeth, Catherine of Russia, Wilhelmina Anspach, the unfortunate Mary, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Clarke, Anna Maria Porter, Miss Cushman, Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Carpenter, Lady Strafford, Catherine of Arragon. But names are needless, we have in these days, women, intellectual and lovely, moving amongst us like stars of glory. They are courteous and affable, but you may see in their eyes, that which reminds you of deep magnificent lakes, inhabited by spirits, who hold fiefdom under the seal of grandeur; they are constantly communing with beings free from the ties and thraldom of time :— The eye of a woman of genius is always bewitching, and in every clime is worshipped: many bow as at a shrine, lowly they whisper, look, and pass along; they feel they are on holy ground; no heedless foot disturbs the beatific exercises of genius. Let not the vain enter her palace; there sits Death as a guest invited to cast his sombre shade amongst these sublimities: sweet gentle Taste and Memory are part of her court; the knell of judgment rolls across the enchanted towers. List! she moves the chimes of enchantment have commenced; she summons her spirits to wait upon her, they strew stars of mystic brilliancy; she stares at Death until he hies away; she charges the cauldron of unearthly elements, a thick cloud arises, spreading narcotic fragances; her brow is damp with immortal dews; the quivering of the aspen comes o'er this magnificence and all its elements: Memory steps from her seat-the spell is broken, and the passion of genius is o'er. But, there are other revelations in which she exercises; she turns towards the blue sky, she sees some fond companion, some loving star, they exchange radiations of affection; she thinks of future days, when the silver wings of Imagination may enter heaven, and partakes of sublime delights; she waits without the gate, but hears the blast of the trumpet's sound, which calls the choir of Heaven to rehearse "the immortality of beauty."* * In the Memoranda of that extraordinary genius, Mrs. Siddons, it appears that on one occasion, when the family had retired to rest, she determined to study the part of Lady Macbeth; and having steeped her feelings in the spirit of the character, she became alarmed with the poignancy of the passion, and so much was she affrighted that she ran upstairs to bed, but could not find courage to extinguish the taper. See Boaden's Life. CHAPTER XIII. HOPE. HOPE has elevated eye-brows, and opens the eye-lids more than usual; the iris is soft, turgescent; the pupil large; the lustre of the eye-ball mild, though increased in degree; the motions of the eye are easy, free, performed within a large space, and curved; the look is very agreeable, contemplative, expressive of a wish which is felt. This is one of the angels sent down from heaven to bear a cup of kindness and consolation to man in his pilgrimage. She raises the fallen lid, and revives, with her inspired look, those sinking and about to die. Hope with its golden radiance opens its burning wings, and sheds on all powers the return of the love of life. All passions may be resolved into the simple system of love and hate; the various modes of affection being caused by accident. Hope is (speaking abstractedly) an anticipation of some enjoyment, and generally running parallel to an antagonistic feeling, called fear. This angel is sent into this world of reality to awaken joy and excitement, and to drive fear, anguish, and monotony far away. If the organ of sight were deprived of this power, there would be many a dark and cloudy path, which is now illumined by the waving of the wand of this holy one. The generous sympathy of this lovely spirit is not found in palaces and the domains of luxury; but, where there is a cry of woe, and where the echo of sorrow wanders about the streets, there she glides along; in many a wretched cottage, and by many |