d the top, proportional. In the human face its balance of opposite
sides is _symmetry_; its division upward, _proportion_.

Symmetry is necessary to the _dignity_ of every form. Orderly balance
and arrangement are highly essential to the more perfect operation of
the earnest and solemn qualities of the beautiful, being heavenly in
their nature, and contrary to the violence and disorganization of sin.
Minds which have been subjected to high moral influence generally
delight in symmetry: witness the harmonious lines of Milton, and the
works of the great religious painters. Where there is no symmetry, the
effects of violence and passion are increased. Many works derive power
from the want of it, but lose in proportion in the divine quality of
beauty.

Want of moderation, extravagance, bombastic straining for effect, are
destructive of beauty, whether in color, form, motion, language, or
thought;--in color, they would be called glaring; in form, inelegant; in
motion, ungraceful; in language, coarse; in thought, undisciplined; in
all, unchastened: these qualities are always painful, because the signs
of disobedient and irregular operation. In color, for example, it is not
red, but rose color, which is the most beautiful; neither is it the
brightest green, but such gray green as we see in the distant sky, in
the clefts of the glacier, in the chrysophrase and sea foam; not but
that the expression of feeling should be deep and full, but that to
arrive at that _passion of the soul_ excited by the beautiful, there
should be a solemn moderation in such fulness, a reference to the high
harmonies by which humanity is governed, and an obedience to which is
its glory. The following short quotations serve to illustrate this
point:

'And now and then an ample tear trilled down
Her delicate cheek; it seemed she was a queen
Over her passion, which, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.'

'I found her on the floor
In all the storm of grief, yet beautiful;
Pouring forth tears at such a lavish rate,
That were the world on fire, they might have drowned
The wrath of heaven, and quenched the mighty ruin.'

Common writers are apt to forget that exaggerated expressions chill our
sympathies; that passion becomes ignoble when entertained for ignoble
objects; that when violent and unnatural, it is destructive of dignity.
In the exaggeration of its outward signs, Passion is not exalted, but
its reality