Chapter II: Part 2

One day when king Clotarius was a hunting, young Dagobert invited his governor to dinner. The prince, feigning during the repast, to act without ceremony, (say the chronicles of France,) _presented him the cup to drink, with three_. This was a snare which the duke of Aquitaine never dreamed of. He received the cup with a confident air: and this was a crime. _And he, who was deserving of punishment, took it from his hand, not as it ought to be taken from a person of great consequence, but as it is customary to take it from an equal._ The author of these same chronicles, who was not a contemporary however, does not fail, as may be perceived, to condemn Sadregesile, for having accepted the cup, and to justify Dagobert who had presented it to him _with three_. Without doubt he did not observe, in receiving it, all the ceremony which the etiquette of the court in those days required. This slight want of respect, or rather this liberty, was made a pretext by Dagobert for revenge. After having called Sadregesile all manner of names, and had him beaten by his servants, the young prince, hurried away by his rage, without regarding the age of his governor, or the authority with which he was invested, not even his title of duke of Aquitaine, rushed upon him and cut off his beard with his knife. Some other chronicles which relate the same affair, add likewise this bad treatment. _Prince_ _Dagobert took him by the beard, and with his knife, which he held in his hand, cut it so close, that he cut off a piece of his chin with it._

The two authors, who agree in relating the same affair, were well persuaded, that the abuse and the blows, which the duke of Aquitaine received, hurt his feelings much less than the loss of his beard. This is the reason of their laying more stress on the latter. _In those days_, says one of them, _it was the greatest affront and disgrace a man could receive, to have his beard cut off_.

Clotarius, on his return from hunting, was far from applauding his son’s conduct. _The king was greatly enraged._ The young Dagobert, to avoid the just indignation of his father, fled for refuge to the _chapel of the Martyrs_, now called the church of St. Denis. In vain did the king send serjeants to take him from thence: the writers, who relate this affair, assert that God worked a miracle in favour of this young rebel; they say, that all the men the king sent were stopped on the road by a _divine power_. Be that as it may, this miracle had no effect on Clotarius; for he never pardoned his son’s cutting off the beard of his governor. _The king was so enraged_, say the same chronicles, _that he never forgave this offence_.

It should be observed, that what was at the same time a mark of infamy, became, in other circumstances, the seal of confidence and fidelity. When a sovereign took a vassal or an ally under his protection, he cut off his beard. This was a sort of adoption which conferred on the person the title of son. The nobles of Spoleta voluntarily submitted to this usage, after they had refused to succour Didier against Charlemain; they set out immediately for Rome, and came and put themselves under the protection of the pope; and as a proof of their constant fidelity, they left their beards in his holiness’s hands.

This ceremony was looked upon as sacred by the contracting parties; and when any one had promised to adopt another and to cut off his beard, the greatest rascal breathing would be afraid to break his word, and what happened to Tasson, duke of Frejus, is a proof of it. Gregory, patrician of the Romans, being desirous to discharge a sum which he was obliged to pay the dukes of Frejus, drew the young Tasson to Oderzo, a town on the borders of Trevisannah, under the specious pretext of adopting him for his son by cutting off his beard. Tasson came without suspicion; but he was no sooner entered the town with his retinue, than Gregory ordered the gates to be shut, and immediately sent soldiers to attack him. Tasson, accompanied by his little troop, defended himself with great courage, and killed a great many Romans; but at length he was overcome by number. Then the traitor, Gregory, ordered the head of the young duke to be brought him; and, to prevent his appearing to have broken his oath, he cut off his beard, as he had promised.[27]

Footnote 27:

_Pauli Warnefridi Longobardi filii, Diaconi Forojulliensis, de gestis
Longobardorum._ Lib. vi. cap. 11.

The same usage had been observed a long time before; but, in the ceremony, touching the beard, instead of cutting it off, was thought sufficient. It was then held in higher respect. Clovis, king of France, sent deputies to Alaric, king of the Goths, to treat with him, and entreat the favour of him to come and touch his beard, and at the same time to adopt him as his son.[28]

Footnote 28:

_Aimonius, Fragment. de Clod. & Alar. Regibus._

The beard has met with its tyrants; the Latin church furnishes a great number. Charlemain deserved this title when he absolutely refused to let the Beneventians have Grimoald for duke, unless he obliged the Lombards to shave.[29] But no sooner was this same Charlemain emperor of the West, than he adopted the Roman beard.[30] Circumstances change every thing.

Footnote 29:

Paul Diacre says, the Lombards derive their name from the length of
their beard. He adds, that, according to the idiom of the country,
_lang_ signifies longam, and _baert_ barbam. Lib. i. cap. 9.

Footnote 30:

His beard is carefully preserved at Spire.

Since William the Conqueror, who robbed the English of their beards with their liberty, history does not furnish us with any relation of this kind more poignant, than that of Lewis the Young, king of France.

This king, in the war which he carried on against Theobald count of Champaign, having taken Vitri by storm, _burnt three thousand five hundred inhabitants, who had taken shelter in the church_, says Mezerai, _as a sacred asylum_. He soon repented of this cruelty; and, by way of making some atonement, he, at the instigation of the clergy, consented to cut off his beard. His austere deportment and shaved chin greatly displeased his young wife Eleanor, the daughter of the duke of Aquitaine; she murmured against this ridiculous custom, and often reproached her husband, with looking much more like a monk than a king.

If Lewis the Young’s shaved chin had caused nothing more than the dislike of the young queen, the mischief would have been trifling; but several historians assert, that it was the first cause of that inextinguishable hatred which has so long divided England and France. The following is the account they give of it.

Saint Bernard, spurred on by pope Eugene III. his old disciple, took advantage of the religious disposition of the king of France, to persuade him, that nothing but the undertaking of a second crusade could appease the wrath of God. The penitent monarch, who had not hesitated to let himself be shaved, was as easily prevailed on to depart for Palestine. Eleanor, whether through curiosity, duty, or to divert the uneasiness of mind which the continual absence of her husband caused her, resolved to accompany him.

After the misfortunes with which this war was attended, the devout prince met with one that affected his heart much nearer; he perceived that his shaved chin had entirely alienated from him the affections of Eleanor, and that this wife, expressing every day her liking for long beards, listened with attention to the amorous assiduities of Raymund, prince of Antioch, her paternal uncle. They add, moreover, that a young Turk, called Saladin, uncommonly handsome, and endowed, no doubt, with a notable beard, likewise made this princess forget the fatigues of this long and unfortunate campaign.

Lewis the Young returned from Syria, still shaved, and, moreover, vanquished: too certain of Eleanor’s infidelity, in the rage of his jealousy, he assembled a council at Beaugency, where, spite of the prudent and pacific advice of his minister, (abbot Suger,) he had his marriage set aside, under pretext of consanguinity.

Eleanor, six weeks after her repudiation, married Henry, count of Anjou and duke of Normandy, who was afterwards Henry II. king of England. The French king saw with chagrin this new monarch, his vassal, in possession of his wife and the provinces which composed her dowry; he declared war against him; and this is the foundation of that destructive rivality which has so long troubled England and France. Who would have thought that the cutting off of a beard, six hundred years since, should have been the cause of a war the flames of which are scarcely extinguished, and which not long since set a great part of our globe in blaze.[31]

Footnote 31:

“This woman (Eleanor)” says Mezerai, “consummate in all sorts of
wickedness, lived more than eighty years, kept up a war for more than
sixty years, and left a hatred, between France and England, which has
lasted more than three centuries.”

The Templars, that order of monks and soldiers, who had the faults of both, wore their beards like the Orientals. Philip the Handsome, king of France, thought it advisable to destroy these religious soldiers, and to have a great number of them burnt. Their execution was preceded by cutting off their beards, either to disgrace them more, or to deprive them of that grave imposing air which it gave them.

Soldiers and princes were not the only ones for whom a shaved chin was a mark of infamy: philosophers and learned men have always abhorred these naked faces. Paul Jove, in his elogy of Francis Filelfo, relates a trifling event which proves how much the learned of those days valued their beards. A violent dispute arose between the Italian, Filelfo, and a Greek professor called Timothy; the question was, whether a certain Greek syllable were long or short. Things were carried to such a height, that Filelfo waged a considerable sum, and Timothy his long beard. The affair was at length decided. Timothy was declared vanquished; and, to save his beard, which he had just lost, he made Filelfo very advantageous offers; but the latter, inexorable, would have nothing but the beard he had won: he insisted on having the unfortunate Timothy shaved, and retained the spoils of his adversary’s chin as a monument of his victory.

When, by an event which has been already related, Francis I. introduced the mode of long beards into France, the parliaments and all the lawyers stood up against this ornament so suitable to the gravity of their functions: all the magistrates shaved, while the young men of fashion, and all the court, appeared with a venerable beard. This contrast in dress lasted longer than it ought to, through the obstinacy of the lawyers. The self-importance which they shewed in this sort of contest, is one of those lineaments of character which the philosophical observer should not let escape him.

The rapid progress which this mode of long beards daily made, soon alarmed the members of the parliament of Paris; they thought it highly necessary to stop the progress of such a dangerous usage: being thoroughly persuaded that it was essential towards magisterial gravity to be constantly shaved, they made a law, in 1535, commonly called in those days _the edict of beards_, by which all magistrates and lawyers, even litigants, were absolutely forbidden to appear in the Justice-hall with a long beard.

Francis Olivier, a man of the court, who was afterwards chancellor, experienced all the hatred that the parliament had for long beards, when he presented himself to be admitted to the charge of master of requests: he was at first refused, for the sole reason of not being shaved. Notwithstanding the pressing solicitations of our candidate, the parliament was inflexible, and Francis Olivier was obliged to sacrifice his long beard to his interest, or rather to the childish prejudice of that court.

The parliament of Toulouse distinguished itself likewise, by pronouncing a decree which expressly forbade the wearing long beards. A gentleman wanted to solicit in this court without complying with this unfashionable ordinance; the parliament replied very seriously to him, that he should have justice done him when he should be shaved.[32]

Footnote 32:

GENTIEN HERVET, _de redendâ barbâ oratio_.

_There were neither attorneys nor counsellors in the sovereign courts of justice that could presume to appear in court on St. Martin’s day, with a long beard, without incurring a fine; and this was observed likewise in the inferior jurisdictions._ These are the words of a writer nearly contemporary: he adds likewise, that it was highly necessary to be careful how one came to present a request without being shaved first. _Such-a-one would have been finely snubbed_, says he, _who should have come with a long beard to present a request, so much so, that whoever wanted to present one, readily put his beard in his sleeve_.[33]

Footnote 33:

_Pogonologie, ou Discours facétieux des Barbes. I am surprised_, says
the author of this work, _at the ordinance of a certain magistrate,
who commanded all the millers of his district to cut off their
beards_.

An advocate at the parliament of Paris was a victim to this rigorous antipathy. They relate, that having presented himself in the hall to plead a cause with a long beard, Peter Lizet, the first president, ordered him, in open court, to cut it off immediately, or else the parliament would refuse to hear him. The advocate was obliged to obey this tyrannical order. _Tome 2. des Memoires de Litérature de Salengre._

Fortunately, these unmerciful enemies of bearded chins were unable to exercise their persecution but over the small number of people dependant upon them; they would have shaved all the French, if the nation would have let them to. But this rage for disbearding insensibly died away, and, in a little time, these enemies of toleration complied with the usage which they had endeavoured to proscribe: so, this sort of league among the magistrates against the beards of the French was attended with no disagreeable consequences.

Things are very different when similar whims enter the brain of despots. The two following relations will prove what ravages a razor in their hands may cause.

Chardin relates, that a minister of the king of Persia, a scrupulous observer of the law of Mahomet, wore in consequence a long beard which he had very white. It was not the fashion to be so religious at the court: the courtiers were satisfied with long whiskers, which they could turn up under their ears; but they wore very short beards. The king was shocked that his minister did not follow this mode, but obstinately persisted to wear a long beard. In a drunken moment, he sent for a barber, and ordered him to cut it off immediately. The minister, who was obliged to submit to this rigorous order, begged the operator not to cut so near the skin; but the king, perceiving that he was badly obeyed, fell into such a rage, that he ordered the barber’s hand to be cut off immediately.

The czar Peter, who had so many claims to the surname of _Great_, seems to have been but little worthy of it on this occasion. He had the boldness to lay a tax on the beards of his subjects. He ordered, that the noblemen and gentlemen, tradesmen, and artisans (the priests and peasants[34] excepted,) should pay a hundred rubles, to be able to retain their beards; that the lower class of people should pay a copeck for the same liberty, and he established clerks at the gates of the different towns, to collect these duties. Such a new and singular impost troubled the vast empire of Russia. Both religion and manners were thought in danger. Complaints were heard from all parts; they even went so far as to write libels against the sovereign; but he was inflexible, and, at that time, powerful. Even the fatal scenes of _St. Bartholomew_ were renewed against these unfortunate beards, and the most unlawful violences were publicly exercised. The razor and scissars were every where made use of. A great number, to avoid these cruel extremities, obeyed with reluctant sighs. Some of them carefully preserved the sad trimmings of their chins, and, in order to be never separated from these dear locks, ordered that they should be placed with them in their coffins. Oh! Peter the Great, John James was very right, you did not possess true genius![35]

Footnote 34:

The priests and peasants of Russia still wear their beards.

Footnote 35:

See _Du Contrat Social_ of John James Rousseau. Voltaire has censured
this assertion.

Example, more powerful than authority, produced, in Spain, what it had not been able to bring about in Russia without great difficulty. Philip V. ascended the throne with a shaved chin. The courtiers imitated the prince, and the people, in turn, the courtiers. However, though this revolution was brought about without violence and by degrees, it caused much lamentation and murmuring: the gravity of the Spaniards lost by the change. The favourite custom of a nation can never be altered without incurring displeasure. They have this old saying in Spain: _Desde que no hay barba, no hay mas alma. Since we lost our beards, we have no more souls._

Well, it’s now a whole century since we wore beards. Have we gained by the change? This well merits an investigation. The Spanish proverb, which might very well be applied to us, seems to account justly for our state of abasement. If, as a modern philosopher said, _stupor reigns_, it is, no doubt, because we no longer wear our beards. But let us console ourselves; the source of these evils is nearly dried up. The fashion of long beards is on the point of being renewed, an epoch which I pronounce to be nearer than people think. All our present fashions and customs are nothing more than old ones revived, and which will disappear in their turn. The revolution is just at an end: the rapidity of our changes has accelerated its course, and a new reign is at hand. You pretty fellows of the present day, Jemmy-Jessamy parsons, jolly bucks, and all you with smock-faces and weak nerves, be dumb with astonishment, I foretel it, you will soon resemble men.

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CHAP. IV.

_Of BEARDED WOMEN._

A Woman with a beard on her chin is one of those extraordinary deviations with which nature presents us every day; as to those women who, in order to pass for men, have put on false beards, it was in consequence of some particular circumstance: that there have been others whose character, seconded by nature, made them regard a long beard as an honourable phenomenon for their sex, must seem at this time more extraordinary; but it would appear almost incredible that the eagerness of women to command should prompt them to make use of artificial means to have a beard on their chin, and, by this usurpation, to dispute with man the symbol of his sovereignty, and that, to put a stop to this disorder, the laws should have interfered, if the authenticity of the evidence which we have left did not put it beyond a doubt.

It is Cicero himself who gives an account of this singular law, instituted to prevent the women’s ever succeeding to get a beard: they are expressly forbidden by it _to shave their cheeks_. It is taken from the twelve Tables; the following are the words: _Mulieres genas ne radunto. Let not women presume to shave their cheeks._[36]

Footnote 36:

Cicero, _de Legibus_. _Lib._ ii.

If the abuse which was the cause of this law is one of the greatest encomiums on beards, it presents us however with room for comparison. The women of the present day are every wit as envious of commanding, as those of whom Cicero speaks; but their means are very different.

It is beyond a doubt that the women of those days were very far from disliking a beard. The Venus of Cyprus, (whom the ancient Greeks represented with a bushy beard on her chin,) seems to strengthen this assertion.

As to bearded women, and those who have done themselves the honour of appearing so, we have several examples.

In the cabinet of curiosities of _Stutgard_ in Germany, there is the portrait of a woman called _Bartel Graetje_, whose chin is covered with a very large beard: she was drawn in 1587, at which time she was but twenty-five years of age. There is likewise in the same cabinet another portrait of her when she was more advanced in life, but likewise with a beard.

It is said that the duke of Saxony had the portrait of a poor Swiss woman taken, remarkable for her long, bushy beard; and those who were at the carnival at Venice in 1726, saw a female dancer astonish the spectators, as much by her talents, as by her chin covered with a black, bushy beard.

Charles XII. had in his army a female grenadier: it was neither courage nor a beard that she wanted to be a man. She was taken at the battle of Pultoway, and carried to Petersburg, where she was presented to the czar in 1724: her beard measured a yard and half[37].

Footnote 37:

Russian measure.

We read in Trévoux’s dictionary, that there was a woman seen at Paris, who had not only a bushy beard on her face, but her body likewise covered all over with hair. Among a number of other examples of this nature, that of Margaret, the governess of the Netherlands, is very remarkable: she had a very long, stiff beard, which she prided herself on; and being persuaded that it contributed to give her an air of majesty, she took great care not to lose a hair of it. This Margaret was a very great woman.

It is said that the Lombard women, when they were at war, made themselves beards with the hair of their heads, which they ingeniously arranged on their cheeks, in order that the enemy, deceived by the likeness, might take them for men. It is asserted, after _Suidas_, that, in a similar case, the Athenian women did as much.[38] These women were more men than our Jemmy-Jessamy countrymen.

Footnote 38:

[Greek: Pogonias], _sive de barbâ Dialogus Antonii Hotomanni_.

About a century ago the ladies adopted the mode of dressing their hair in such a manner that curls hung down their cheeks as far as their bosom. These curls went by the name of _whiskers_.[39] This custom undoubtedly was not invented, after the example of the Lombard women, to fright the men. Neither is it with intention to carry on a very bloody war, that, in our time, they have affected to bring forward the hair of the temple on the cheeks. The discovery seems to have been a fortunate one: it gives you a tempting, roguish, pleasing look, of which the ladies are very fond at present.

Footnote 39:

Servants, and citizens’ wives, who wore _whiskers_ like ladies of
fashion, were attacked without mercy. _See Trevoux’s dict._

Some wits have made themselves merry at the women’s not having a beard on their chin like the men: they pretended that it was impossible to shave them without bringing blood, because it is very difficult for the fair-sex to keep their tongues silent a moment. This thought has pleased so much that it has been put into Greek, Latin, Italian, and French verse. Here is the French.[40]

Footnote 40:

See le Menagiana, tom. iv. pag. 206.

Sais-tu pourquoi, cher camarade,
Le beau sexe n’est point barbu?
Babillard comme il est, on n’auroit jamais pu
Le raser sans estafilade.

_IMITATED._

Know’st thou why my dear companion
Ladies have not beards like us?
Talking always, who could shave them,
Without gashing them the deuce.

_AGAIN._

(BY A FRIEND.)

The reason why men should have beards on their face,
And that tattling women have none,
Is, the Devil can’t shave such a chattering race,
But he’d cut their glib cheeks to the bone.

What has been rendered sometimes supportable by circumstances, an extravagant taste, the desire of being distinguished from the crowd, or to command their attention; true taste, and especially the art of pleasing, has always proscribed. We meet with women every day whose features are shaded with this ornament of virility. But very far from priding themselves on this superfluity of nature, they regard it as a blemish to be ashamed of, which they endeavour to eradicate. How many brunetts especially[41] are obliged, in the secret moments of their toilet, to make use of!... But let us by no means reveal these mysterious operations; they have a right to expect our indulgence, as they tend to please us: moreover, a woman may very well be pardoned for correcting this deviation of nature, since the men are not ashamed to disfigure her.

Footnote 41:

The number is greater than people think. We have at present a heroine
whose dignities of warrior, juris-consult, man of letters, and
minister, as well as a bearded chin, concealed her sex a long time
from her countrymen.

It is as ridiculous for a man to look like a woman, as for a woman to look like a man. However, a man without a beard would be much less surprising now-a-days, than a bearded woman, which proves how unnatural our tastes and customs are.

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CHAP. V.

_That LONG BEARDS are salutary._

THE beard has not only the advantage of giving a man a stern, majestic air, of preserving over the sex the empire which Nature has bestowed on him, and of displaying on his face the characteristical marks of his manhood, but likewise enables the attentive observer to remark, by more determined changes, the different states of human life, and gives him the still more valuable advantage of being useful to his own preservation.

Nature made nothing in vain, and the course of her wise operations is never opposed with impunity. Is it not natural to suppose, that this bushy hair which she has placed on man’s face must have an influence on the salubrity of the neighbouring parts that are acknowledged to be essential? Is it possible to think otherwise, without accusing our common mother of inconsequence, and charging her uniform conduct, (which so fully explains its own motives,) with folly and extravagance? How is it possible then for people to venture to thwart the wisdom of her intentions, and destroy their effects, without being afraid of drawing on themselves a superabundance of evils, to which human nature is already too much subject? This however is what we do every day, in order to comply with a very unnatural custom.

The beard, among men, is the sign of puberty, vigour, and weakness. ’Tis this hair on the chin which first tells him that the time is come when his organs, being more unfolded, will procure him a new existence, that he is entering the state of manhood, that he is going to take his place in society, and that he is endowed with the valuable faculty of begetting his own likeness.

This down on the chin is the same with young men, as the increase of the bosom with young girls. These two proofs of puberty announce, in both sexes, that sweet inquietude, the prelude of love and pleasure; those emotions, desires, and wants to be happy which nature has implanted in the human breast; and at the same time the power of reason.[42] “The beard,” says Theodoret in his fourth discourse on the Providence of God, “informs these young folks, who have this downy hair on their chin, that it is time to leave off childish plays, in order to employ themselves about more serious things.” ’Tis then the greater or less quantity of beard a man has that determines, in the same proportion, the vigour of his body; ’tis then that Nature, steady in her course, requires its increase, and there is no doubt but our perseverance in thwarting her will, injures the adjoining parts.

Footnote 42:

“It is at the time the Devil is in a passion that the beard begins to
bud; and if ever a man has occasion to show some sign of courage or
make some sensible observation, ’tis then his beard begins to come.
_Pogonologia._”

If it is evident that a long beard, by the equal heat which it maintains, procures glandulous bodies a mild perspiration, and that it draws away the humours intended by Nature for its nourishment, it cannot be denied but that, the beard being cut off, and neither the perspiration nor secretion having place, the humours, which ought to have produced both, take a different course and become prejudicial to the parts through which they are obliged to circulate. This is the sentiment of a very learned writer, who has examined the beard under this interesting point of view. “It is incontestable,” says he, “that a long beard contributes greatly to health, because, whilst it draws off the superfluous humours which nourish this mark of manhood, it preserves the teeth a long time from rotting, and strengthens the gums, an advantage which those who shave are generally deprived of, who, almost all, are tormented with a dreadful pain in the teeth, and lose them all before they are any way advanced in age. The beard, in summer,” continues the same author, “defends the face from the burning rays of the sun; and in winter from rimes. In short, it preserves a man from a number of disorders, such as the quinsy and the decay of the palate, &c.”[43] Adrian Junius, a physician who lived in the sixteenth century, in his commentary on the hair of the head, asserts that the beard is a preservative against several disorders. Gentien Hervet, in one of his discourses on beards, relates, that after the council of Trent, several ecclesiastics, being obliged to shave, were some time after seized with a violent tooth ach. I may add to these authorities what I have been told by very credible persons. A German gentleman, having been a long time tormented with a violent pain in his teeth, was advised to let his beard grow out, and he was entirely indebted to this remedy for his cure.

Footnote 43:

Pierius Valerianus, _Pro Sacerdotum barbis_.

The ancients seem to have been more sensible than we of the particular virtue of this ornament of manhood. It was not without reason that they represented Esculapius, the God of Physic, ornamented with a bushy, golden beard, whilst his father, Apollo, had a shaved chin.

This symbolical beard proclaimed to the Greeks, not only that they should wear their beards, but moreover, by the richness of its metal, how necessary the beard was to their health. It was not with impunity, say several writers, that Dionysius the tyrant took away this golden fleece from the God of Physic: among others, they regard, as a chastisement for this sacrilege, his being obliged, through his mistrust, to have his children burn his beard with hot nut-shells, rather than trust himself in the hands of the barbers of Syracuse.

The denomination which the Latins give the beard proves that they were thoroughly persuaded of its preserving them from defluxions and other disorders to which the nudity of our chins is exposed: they called it _vestis_ (clothing), and _investis_ (without clothing), any one not of the age of puberty.

As to us, slaves to the odd customs which we have ourselves invented, we are still very far from thinking that it is proper to look like a man. A manly, vigorous look is not fashionable, and even health is no longer in vogue. I see very clearly that the beard, should it be again admitted in its turn, may very well cause the destruction of some disagreeable customs, among others, that of taking snuff; but, in order to give an idea of this loss, I will here place the sentiment of a contemporary on this sternutative powder. “Snuff,” says he, “gives a kind of slovenly appearance to those who make use of it, and which they are incapable of avoiding: their breath has a disagreeable smell, their noses are almost always foul, their clothes very often dirty, their faces disgusting, their tongues dry, especially after sleep, &c. But all this is nothing to the disagreeable disorders which the use of this powder produces; and after the enumeration which I’m going to make of them, people will be astonished still more that such a bad custom is not laid aside.” He then continues: “Snuff is hurtful to dry, bilious, and hot constitutions; it intoxicates and discomposes the functions of the brain, brings on vomiting, weakens the stomach, irritates the nerves, impairs the faculties of the understanding, destroys the memory, takes off all sense of smelling, heats, disturbs the sleep, causes vapours and swimmings in the head, and at length brings on an apoplexy or a lethargy.”[44]

Footnote 44:

Discours preliminaire des Tables néologique & météorologiques, by M.
Bazoux. Mr. Buc’hoz has just published a work on the use of snuff,
which corroborates this opinion.

If this account is just, and we may be permitted to add to it the disgusting marks which this powder imprints on the beauty of the fair, it must be confessed that great obligation would be due to whatever should cause it to be disused.

In ripe age, the beard is the sign of physical powers: in old age, the symbol of veneration. What sight is there more reverend than an old man with a venerable, long, white beard, receiving the caresses of his grand-children, the sole consolation of his burthensome years! Surrounded by his family, he is the image of wisdom and divinity. Is there any thing more noble than Nestor appeasing the rage of Achilles, lamenting the misfortunes of that division, giving advice to all the kings of the camp of the Greeks, and seeing himself the object of general veneration? Where is there to be found a more striking example of majestic sweetness than that of the sage Mentor? Is there a more moving picture than that of old Priam at Achilles’s feet, kissing the terrible hands of the murderer of his son; and to see this venerable old man beg with tears the sad remains of the unfortunate Hector? All these different sketches may give some idea of the majesty and nobleness which a long beard and hoary locks stamp on the person of an old man. But let any one fancy Mentor and Nestor shaved, and old king Priam without his beard and white hair, having each of them a wig with three tails; this allusion, at first so flattering, will disappear; ridicule will succeed to respect, and he will no longer see in these heroes, but the figure of our neighbour the churchwarden, the overseer of the poor, and the auctioneer.

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CHAP. VI.

_Of FALSE BEARDS._

THE substitutes of art are to nature what hypocrisy is to virtue: both are unworthy of an upright man, who is no more afraid to discover the sentiments of his heart, than the lineaments of his face. But if, as a famous moralist said, _hypocrisy is a homage which vice pays to virtue_, false beards should likewise be regarded as a homage which luxury or idleness pays to natural beards.

Such impositions are more or less condemnable, according to the causes from whence they proceed. The old man whom Theophrastus speaks of, who, in order to plead before the senate of Lacedemon, stained his beard and hoary locks black, dearly merited the mortifying affront which a meanness so unworthy of his age publicly drew on him. As he was debating his cause, his adversary interrupted him, and addressing himself to the senate, asked what confidence could be given to the words of a man who carried a lie in his face?

Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, false beards came much into fashion in Spain, especially in the estates of Cortez of Catalonia. This artifice, which procured the advantage that a beard gives a man, with much ease, must appear much less strange among a people whose character has gravity for basis. This mode was adopted with the greatest eagerness. The same persons had beards of different forms and colours, and could change them as they pleased: they had different ones to wear holidays and working-days; so that a man might have a short red beard in the morning and in the evening a long black one. Every one changed his appearance according to his interest. Such a commodious fashion and so much followed favoured however a great many misdemeanours; and these chin-wigs would soon have been as much the wear as those of the head, if the abuse which was made of them had not at length attracted the attention of government. Peter, king of Arragon, expressly forbade all his subjects to wear false beards. They disappeared, and were replaced by natural ones. ’Tis a great pity this mode never got beyond the Pyrenean mountains: had it but reached France it would have acquired a degree of pre-eminence, which the French alone are capable of giving. However, Spain is not the only country where false beards have been in vogue.

About the end of the fourteenth century there was the largest and thickest beard seen at Paris that ever existed perhaps in the world; in fact, it was the wonder of beards. The man who wore it called himself patriarch of Constantinople; from his having such an extraordinary beard, every one was inclined to believe his assertion: so much power has appearance over the mind of man! Never was there a beard that raised such a sensation. The Parisians, as may be supposed, were unceasing in their admiration of it; and it was through favour of his beard that this patriarch, as he called himself, received the most flattering reception. He was every where loaded with honours: and this astonishing beard, which attracted the veneration of a whole people, who were enraptured with it, was nothing but a false one.

What a powerful effect of the majesty of beards! but what a subject of comparison for our manners! How many revered sages, great geniuses, extolled heroes, and lords of high renown, are like this beard! It is some consolation however, that the homage of the gulled citizens is always the satire of the delusion by which they were deceived: the truth comes out sooner or later; and then all the honour of it is clearly perceived to belong to some particular virtue or talent, or a long beard.

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CHAP. VII.

_Of GOLDEN BEARDS._

MEN have, in all ages, thought to honour the objects of their regard, or of their worship, by endeavouring to embellish them. But the means which they have employed, whilst they do honour to their zeal, have often given a proof of their bad taste. Because gold is so much valued among us, we thought for a long time, that nothing else could be truly ornamental. Luxury and devotion have both displayed it with profusion; but riches do not constitute beauty. What was intended to be decorated is in fact debased. This abuse, which reigned particularly in the times of ignorance, has even exercised its power over the beard. Oriental pomp presents us at once with an example of this mistaken pride. Several potentates of those countries interwove the hair on their chin with gold thread and spangles. It is not without indignation that St. Chrysostom tells us of a king of Persia, who, in his time, followed this ridiculous custom. After reproaching the extravagant luxury of the fair-sex of Antioch, this evangelical doctor says: “If I should give you an account of a sort of luxury still more absurd than that of those women, who wear gold in their hair, load their lips and eye-brows with it, who, in short, are covered all over with this precious metal; don’t think I want to raise a laugh: what I am going to relate to you exists at this day; it is the king of Persia I mean to speak of. This monarch is not ashamed to wear a golden beard; all the hair of his chin is covered or interwoven with little plates of gold or threads of the same metal. This prince, with his face thus adorned, looks more like a monster than a man.”[45]

Footnote 45:

_Johannis Chrysostomi, in Epistolam ad Collossenses, Comment._ cap.
iii. Homilia 8.

This is not the sole example of this ridiculous ostentation: France, which, as all the world knows, has furnished models of extravagance in so many different lines, has not passed over this; it appears even that it had a tolerable long run. Several historians agree in saying, that the kings of the first race prided themselves in wearing a long beard all interwoven and set off with ribbands, and enriched with spangles and gold and silver threads. Whether this mode subsisted from the time of the first race of kings, or was brought from Asia during the crusades, it is certain, that, in the reign of Lewis XI. there is another example of it, which was followed only in imitation of a more ancient mode.

The continuator of Monstrelet relates, that, at the funeral of the duke of Burgundy, who was killed at the battle of Nancy in 1476, the duke of Lorrain, his vanquisher, appeared with a false golden beard, in the same manner as the ancient knights. “He was,” says the historian, “dressed in mourning, and had a long, golden beard that reached down to his middle, _in commemoration of the ancient worthies_, and of the victory which he had gained over him.”

I am of St. Chrysostom’s opinion, that a golden beard is a hideous thing; that, so far from the gold’s heightening its natural beauties, it only degrades them. Nature is like virtue, it pleases without dazzling.

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CHAP. VIII.

_Of WHISKERS._

THERE are no bounds for the objects that are subject to human fickleness: every thing changes, all gives way to the whim of fashion, the beard is a proof of it. This ornament of man, which the Divinity placed on his face to mark more particularly the different periods of his life, and be the sign of the most precious faculties of humankind, has not escaped the common law, but been indistinctly subject to that of our capricious instability. The beard, which is the honour of manhood, and what St. Clement of Alexandria boldly calls _the procreative beauty, the ingenuous beauty_, has passed through all the degrees of increase and diminution. Whiskers are a sort of diminutive, one of those intermediate states which preceded its triumph, or defeat. This modification of the beard, spite of its feeble existence, holds notwithstanding a rank in history, and merits to be mentioned.[46]

Footnote 46:

Some authors attribute the honour of inventing whiskers to the
Arabians. Plutarch, in his life of Theseus, gives the glory of it to
the Abantes, an ancient people of the isle of Euboe, which we call
Negropont, of whom Herodotus makes honourable mention, book i. chap.
146. As the Abantes were a very war-like people, they shaved all the
forepart of their head, in order that their enemies might have nothing
to lay hold of in fight; and at the same time they let their hair grow
out on the back part, to show them they were not afraid of being taken
in flight. _Recherches fur la barbe, par le P. Oudin, Jesuite._

Whiskers have been worn in war, in order to fright the enemy by a terrible countenance. This is what Cæsar observed formerly in the ancient Britons. It is said likewise that the Goths and Franks shaved their beards, all except the upper lip, which they called _crista_. The Gauls, intimidated at first by the appearance of their vanquishers, admitted afterwards this custom; and, under the first race of French monarchs, if we except the kings and princes, who, like the emperors, let their beards grow out entirely, the people wore only whiskers. This, without doubt, is the origin of the custom which we have at this day, as well as most of the nations of Europe, for soldiers to wear this ornament.

As a beardless face is a sign of puerility and weakness, so is a bearded chin of virility and prudence; in like manner whiskers, which hold the middle between these two extremes, announce youth and desires. The Turks and modern Greeks are so convinced of this truth, that, ’till the age of thirty, they wear only whiskers, an epoch at which they let their beards grow out entirely.

In every age, and among every people, it has received a different form; but in whatever manner it was made use of, or were the aim of those who wore this mark of virility, it is beyond a doubt, that when it is advantageously arranged, and gracefully turned up, it gives a stately, vigorous, fiery look, which characterises the young man, and is not displeasing to the ladies.

Among the European nations that have been most curious in beards and whiskers, we shall distinguish Spain. This grave, romantic nation has always regarded the beard as the ornament which should be most prized; and the Spaniards have often made the loss of honour consist in that of their whiskers. The Portuguese, whose national character is much the same, are not the least behind them in that respect. In the reign of Catharine, queen of Portugal, the brave John de Custro had just taken in India the castle of Diu: victorious, but in want of every thing, he found himself obliged to ask the inhabitants of Goa to lend him a thousand pistoles for the maintenance of his fleet; and, as a security for that sum, he sent them one of his whiskers, telling them: “All the gold in the world cannot equal the value of this natural ornament of my valour, and I deposit it in your hands as a security for the money.” The whole town was penetrated with this heroism, and every one interested himself about this invaluable whisker: even the women were desirous to give marks of their zeal for so brave a man: several sold their bracelets to increase the sum asked for, and the inhabitants of Goa sent him immediately both the money and his whisker. A number of other examples of this kind might be produced, which do as much honour to whiskers, as to the good faith of those days.

When Philip V. ascended the throne of Spain, he found his new subjects amply provided with beards and whiskers; he would wear neither, though in other respects he adopted the customs of the country; this gave rise to the mode of shaving. These people saw with the greatest regret this dear ornament disappear from their chins: even at this day they cannot recollect it without emotion; this is what gave rise to this truly expressive proverb, but which is a little too emphatical: Desde que los Españoles no llevan bigotes, no tienen C——, that is, (paraphrasing what might offend the ears of the ladies:) _Since the Spaniards lost their whiskers they are no better than eunuchs._

Whiskers, in France, have been the object of the most refined luxury. In Lewis XIII.’s reign, they attained the highest degree of favour, at the expense of the expiring beards. In those days of gallantry, not yet empoisoned by wit, they became the favourite occupation of lovers, A fine black whisker, elegantly turned up, was a very powerful mark of dignity with the fair-sex. The women of those ancient times, less taken up with genius than the concerns of the heart, and more learned in lovers than books, made their glory consist in triumphing over a warrior, or seeing a haughty, swaggering lover humbly at their feet: proud of such a conquest, and jealous to preserve it, these ladies had a sufficient value for their characters to continue faithful. And if a favour was the reward of love, it was often of merit: in this case, a woman had respect enough for a man to be sincere, and a man had respect enough for his mistress to be discreet; but now-a-days ... what men!

The following relation proves how much the French valued their whiskers in the time of Lewis XIII. Count Bouteville, the most celebrated duellist of his time, who was condemned to be beheaded, seeing the executioner, who had already cut off his hair, going to take off his whiskers, could not conceal the anguish of mind which this dishonour gave him, and put his hands on these dear ornaments, as if to preserve them from the outrage with which they were menaced. The bishop of Mantes, who attended him in these last moments, seeing this new uneasiness, said to him: _My son, you must give over all worldly thoughts; what! do you still think of this world?_

Whiskers were still in fashion in the beginning of Lewis XIV.’s reign. This king and all the great men of his reign took a pride in wearing them. They were the ornament of Turenne, Condé, Colbert, Corneille, Moliere, &c. It was then no uncommon thing for a favourite lover to have his whiskers turned up, combed, and pomatumed by his mistress; and, for this purpose, a man of fashion took care to be always provided with every little necessary article, especially whisker-wax. It was highly flattering to a lady, to have it in her power to praise the beauty of her lover’s whiskers, which, far from being disgusting, gave his person an air of vivacity; several even thought it an incitement to love. It seems the levity of the French made them undergo several changes both in form and name: there were _Spanish_, _Turkish_, _guard-dagger_, &c. whiskers; in short, _royal_ ones, which were the last worn: their smallness proclaimed their approaching fall. Since that period, whiskers have been worn only at the theatres and by some of our troops; besides, they are less liked in France than among the other nations, where it is very common to see all the officers with them.

The man, who should be so bold as to wear whiskers first, would be a zealous citizen and a friend to true personal beauty. What glory would not this courageous mortal gain, who, braving the present effeminate custom, should restore our faces the ancient mark of our valour! He would bring back to his country that openness and sincerity of character which distinguished it from other nations, and would merit an honourable place among the worthies who were formerly the honour of France. “I have a good opinion of a gentleman curious in having fine whiskers,” said an author of the last century; “the time which he passes in dressing them is no time lost; for the more he admires them, the more his mind will be fed and entertained with manly, courageous ideas.”[47] Whiskers then have the power of giving energy and valour to the mind. Ah! Frenchmen, you lost every thing when you lost your whiskers.

Footnote 47:

_Elemens d’education_, printed in 1640.

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CHAP. IX.

_Of the BEARDS of PRIESTS._

AMONG the dignities that ought, by an imposing appearance, to gain the confidence and veneration of the people, the priesthood holds the first rank. The minister of divinity, too often obliged to speak before a crowd of ignorant people, has need particularly that all the delusion of pompous raiment shall accompany him to the foot of the altar; but this sacred magnificence, whilst it forsakes frivolousness and vulgar luxury, should approach nearer to nature, and be more like that respectable image of antiquity. Is there an ornament to be found that more perfectly unites all these advantages? is there one that is less far-fetched, that brings us nearer the first ages, that gives a man a more stern, more grave, or more venerable look, and, consequently, is there one that more becomes the priesthood, than the majesty of a long beard? Were I to join to these clear reasons a faithful history of facts, supported by authentic precepts, sacred laws, the opinions and examples of a number of divine men, and, in short, come to demonstrate the absolute obligation under which our priests are, of wearing beards, I should unfold a truth not less interesting than unexpected. I might call to my aid the example of the priests of foreign religions, and point out, in the books of their dogmas, evidences of the honours paid to this mark of virility; I could cite a number of historical monuments, which attest, that all the nations of the world agree in looking on the beard as the ornament most seemly for an interpreter of the will of heaven; but I have no occasion for these foreign aids: it is our own religion that shall furnish me with arms against the effeminate abuse which degrades its ministers.