My friend,

TO load the beginning of one’s work with pompous titles is an honour that interest solicits and vanity easily grants; but to place the name of one’s friend there, and dedicate the fruit of a few leisure hours to him, is a homage so pure and disinterested, that modesty need not blush at it. Receive then this small testimony of my attachment and esteem, and allow me the pleasing satisfaction of publicly declaring, how much I am,

your friend,

J. A. D***.

“WHATEVER concerns the manners and customs of a people, says Rollin, shews their genius and character; and this is what may be called the soul of history.” I am led to think, that a picture of customs, by presenting mankind with objects of comparison at a nearer view, naturally flatters them more, than facts or dates, the multitude or improbability of which fatigues the memory, or shocks the understanding. This is the reason why we prefer the private life of a hero, to the history of his great actions; the one gives us a secret satisfaction in which self-love finds its account: the other produces only astonishment. The hero is too distant from us; we admire him too much to presume to compare with him: ’tis the man we seek; his heart; his very weaknesses. ’Tis with still more eagerness we wish to examine his person; this is the cause of our liking better to see the portraits of great men, than to read their history. We would fain touch the hero with our hand, as one may say, we would wish to enter into competition with him.

The knowledge of customs and ancient fashions forms a branch of literature which is not without its enthusiasts; this is the favourite study of antiquaries. Among the histories of these usages of our ancestors, that of the beard holds a distinguished rank; and though at present, from its little importance, it is become an object of ridicule, it has been held in high consideration in different ages and among different people. Never was there any thing like that caused so many troubles and so much ill blood: the cowls of the disciples of St. Francis never occasioned so much noise.^[1] The beard, which has been worn and highly respected at some periods, and despised at others, is become the sport of every witling. This mark of manhood, which was held sacred among the Hebrews and primitive Christians, highly condemned by some popes, and particularly countenanced by others, has been successively considered by the Roman church, as an odious heterodoxy, or the symbol of wisdom and Christian humility. Like objects of great worth, the beard never excited petty quarrels; both its enemies and partisans were violent: these anecdotes, so strange in this age, will not only amuse the reader, but discover the character of the people, the spirit of the times, and the narrowness of the human understanding.

It must appear a strange paradox, perfectly shocking for crazy old beaus, for priests whose beards are always shaved close, in short, for all those that compose the effeminate part of the human species, to hear any one maintain, that a long beard becomes a man’s dignity, and that it is beneficial to health and good morals; his ideas must be very different from those of the present age. This however is what I have presumed to do. But whether the design of this work be serious or ironical, it has at least the appearance of novelty; and that’s a great deal in this age.

To write an apology for long beards is to recall to men’s minds their ancient dignity, and that superiority of their sex which has been lost in Europe ever since the fabulous days of chivalry. This too is not the way to gain the good opinion of the ladies, seeing that it’s an attempt to diminish their authority; but at the same time it is restoring, in some respects, the sovereign power to the lawful master, and taking it from the usurper: Moliere says:

This is not very polite; but when a man is determined to speak the truth, it is often very difficult to be so.

To prove clearly that our priests are obliged, not only by reason, but by human and divine laws, to wear a long beard, is an idea that appears to me as singular as new; but to employ methodically the most authentic and most sacred authorities, to display erudition at every moment, and to preserve always an air of gravity, in order to support this argument, might draw on me, from my readers, the reproach of having given too much importance to a subject that does not appear worthy of it. I will freely confess I have been led away by my subject, and that I thought it necessary to assume the tone of inquiry, because most of the proofs which I shall bring to my aid, are of a nature not easy to be reconciled to the spirit of irony. But this inquiry is sometimes enlivened by diverting anecdotes little known; and though my chapter Of the Beards of Priests is longer and more loaded with citations than the rest, I’m of opinion it will not be thought the least curious.

At the conclusion I have laid aside jesting, and this perhaps may be thought the greatest defect; in composing it I found it impossible not to be serious: the gravity of the subject no doubt had an influence on my ideas, and I will not attempt to say any thing in my own defence.

IF we were well persuaded that most new fashions are invented to hide some secret imperfections of the body, or to satisfy the avidity of shopkeepers, it is most likely we should consider it of less importance; for, if we seek the cause of these changes, we find in general it proceeds from the ingenious ardour of a milliner, the bad shape of some fine lady, the long visage of a second, and the broad foot of a beau parson.

The first woman that ever wore a fardingale wanted to conceal the indiscreet fruit of her gallantry. This sort of hoop, of a cylindrical form, entirely concealed the waist. In a little time all the ladies followed this example; and every fashionable fair-one appeared as if her lover had brought her in the same situation as she that introduced the fashion.

The great large ruffs, which looked like a glory about the people’s necks, in the time of Henry IV.^[2] were invented in Spain to hide the hernia gutturis, a very common disorder among the Spaniards. Though the French had not this disorder, they eagerly adopted the new fashion.

It is most likely the fear of being sunburnt, or else that refined coquetry which conceals from public view what it means to raise a desire for, determined the ladies to cover their faces with a mask of black velvet. No lady was seen abroad without her mask. Tradition says nothing of the cause of this fashion; but there is no doubt but ugliness and decrepitness invented another sort of mask, which our old tabbies still continue the use of: this is a plaster of white lead and vermillion, laid on so thick, that it represents much better the ruddy countenance of a drunken sot, than the fine lively complexion of a beautiful damsel.

In the reign of Francis II. a tunbellied Person of high rank turned the heads of all the French. Every body was mad to have, not only a great belly, but likewise a very large false rump. At present, our ladies have not revived the fashion of great bellies; on the contrary, it has been remarked that they have a great dislike to them: but one of them, who had a bad shape, appearing with an enormous rump and hips, all the rest would have false ones; and all the well made women concealed their shape, as the others did their defects.

Geffrey Plantagenet, count of Anjou, one of the most accomplished and handsome men of his time, had the misfortune to have a large excrescence on the tip of his great toe; in order to conceal this imperfection, and walk easy, he had some shoes made with points turned up of a sufficient length not to pinch him. No sooner had he these shoes, than every one was anxious to be like the count. This fashion was so much followed, and had such a run, that the different degrees of rank were known by the length of the points of the shoes. Those of the common people were six inches long, those of citizens a foot; but those of gentlemen, lords, and princes, were never less than two feet; from whence came the French proverb Etre fur un grand pied (to be in easy circumstances). These points to the shoes increased so in length, that it was feared lest they should affect public order and the established religion: sermons were preached and ordinances issued against them; the clergy anathematized them, and Charles V. expressly forbade their being worn.

Thus, every one appeared as if he had an excrescence on the tip of his great toe; so likewise, in most fashions, every one seems desirous of concealing imperfections that he has not.

Fashions have for a long time been considered as of great importance among the French, and their neighbours have often reproached them with it.^[3] If a new fashion appear, the whole nation is in an uproar: all are infatuated, mad: every one is in a hurry to have it; the contagion soon reaches all ranks; they seem as if they could never be soon enough more ridiculous than they were the day before. Taste is out of the question; ’tis opinion alone that decides. Were the new fashion ever so silly, not a word would be said against it, because of this sole and powerful reason: It is what is worn at present.

The motive that actuates people to be at the height of the mode, is the vanity of being thought a person of consequence. How many are there who are penetrated with respect at the sight of a fine coat! how many are there who owe all the consideration they have to their outward appearance, and who might justly say: Ah! my coat, how much I am obliged to you! Their whole merit is in their wardrobe; and there is many a Frenchman, who, had he but that to his mind, would envy no one.

One sole form of a coat, let it be ever so elegant, would be insufficient to preserve the veneration of so many stupid asses; their idol must be differently set off every day: without that precaution their admiration would soon be over; this perhaps is what most contributes to keep up the love of novelty among the French. Peter the Great, emperor of Russia, was struck, when at Paris, with this national character; not being much accustomed to see a variety of dresses, he said, on seeing a lord in a different coat every day: Surely that man is dissatisfied with his tailor.

Why should we not have a dictionary Of Fashions? Surely it would be of as much use as many others. The different denominations which we give them would not be the least entertaining part of the work. Among the names of old hoops we find the Gourgandine (the flirting hoop), the Boute-en-train (the leading-mode hoop), the Tatez-y (the groping hoop), the Culbute (the flying-top-over-tail hoop), &c. Hats and shoes would likewise afford long articles. Then again there would be the great wigs worn in the reign of Lewis XIV.^[4] and which so much employed the attention of the courtiers and periwig-makers of that age: not only the head, but half the body was buried under this heap of curls. It was then only the outside of a Frenchman’s head that was ridiculous; now-a-days things are changed.

I would not have forgotten under the word canon the blunder of a German author, who, having translated Moliere’s Précieuses ridicules, and intending to bring this piece out at one of the theatres of his nation, was confoundedly puzzled how to explain this word. It never entered his brain that a canon was a piece of muslin worn round the knee. After maturely considering the passage, he resolved that Mascarille should have a brace of pistols in his pocket, which he was to pull out when he asks: How do you like my canons?

The article of ladies’ head-dresses would fill a volume entire: we should find, that, in proportion as they have taken from their heads, they have added to their hips. The enormous hoop and the large high head-dress have alternately succeeded each other; these last have lately sunk under their own weight, if I may be allowed the expression, in order to let the great hips and false rumps be in vogue. The ladies are determined not to lose any of their bulk, so much are they persuaded that their merit is in proportion to the space they occupy in the world.

In one of those revolutions which ladies’ heads have suffered, a lady wrote to her friend as follows.

Fashion and etiquette are nearly allied; but they must not be confounded: etiquette is as stable as the other is changeable. The motives that produce them are not the same; the one springs from self-love, the other from affectation. Etiquette seems to have been invented by a desire to govern, and fashion by a wish to please. Therefore, the former is much better observed by people of ripe years, and the latter by young ones. If etiquette is lasting and fashion unstable, this definition comprehends probably the sole cause of it.

People change the make and colour of their dress twenty times in a year; fashion may be looked upon as their play thing; but the laws of etiquette return as constantly as the season. Though it is often cold at Whitsunday, taffeties must be put on; and at All-saints day, though it is sometimes very hot, every body puts on satins and velvets, and no one is seen without a muff.

At court, among the great, etiquette reigns despotically; and its power diminishes according to the distance from the centre of sovereignty. The unambitious man, living at his ease on a moderate fortune, has only a sufficient acquaintance with etiquette to turn it into ridicule; while the man who aims at consideration, or any kind of power, submits to its laws, and often sacrifices his reason to it.

There are several states of life in which etiquette gives a consequence to him who follows it. A tradesman, for instance, to appear as he ought, should have his head shaved and wear a round wig; physicians and surgeons too should do the same. Who, in this enlightened age, would put the least confidence in a physician who wears his own hair, were it the finest in the world? A wig, certainly, can’t give him science, but it gives him the appearance, and that is every thing now-a-days.^[6]

Fashion, while it vivifies commerce, encourages luxury. These are the two sides on which it should be politically viewed; it brings together the different conditions of society, which birth or opinion had separated. This is a moral good perhaps; but it confounds ranks, (which common honesty is interested in distinguishing,) by not leaving the smallest difference between a woman of virtue and a frail sister. In days of yore these two conditions so very different were kept distinct by sumptuary laws. In 1420, prostitutes were forbidden, by a sentence of the parliament of Paris, to wear gold girdles, which was the characteristical ornament of good morals. I’m led to think, it would be impossible now-a-days to put such a law into execution, because it is as difficult to distinguish a virtuous woman, by her manner, from a frail sister, as to draw a just line of demarcation between two states.

WHEN I take a review of the most respectable relations of antiquity, of those celebrated heroes, and the number of wise and learned men that have made Rome and Greece famous, I feel myself penetrated with that admiration and respect which things sacred inspire; but when I figure to myself the noble aspect of these great men, when I perceive on their venerable faces that air of gravity, that character of virtues, which their long beards express, my imagination catches fire; they no longer appear to me as men, but Gods to whom we should bow down. Such is the marvellous effect which this ornament of manhood has produced in all ages. Even now, that our effeminate customs so justly paint the faculties of our souls, the sight of a long beard still commands respect.^[7]

It has always been esteemed in all nations; those people, to whom nature, too sparing of her favours, has denied this characteristical mark of our sex, the Laplander, the Japonese, and especially the American, whose beardless chins made people doubt a long time if they were men, are sensible of the imperfection of their constitution and temperature of body. The Chinese regard the Europeans as the first people on earth, on account of their thick beards; and though nature has been so sparing to them in this mark of virility, yet they are particularly attentive in cherishing what little they have. Both the Lacedemonians^[8] and Egyptians have considered it as a mark of wisdom. In order to obtain a favour among the Greeks, it was only to touch the beard of him that could grant it, to insure success.^[9]

The beard was not solely the mark of philosophy, but became likewise the pledge of the most sacred oaths and promises. It has been sometimes the object of the gravest discussions and most particular attention of a number of learned men; nay, most of the legislators of the world have not thought it beneath their notice.

The most celebrated ancient writers, and several modern ones, have spoken honourably of the finest beards of antiquity. Homer speaks highly of the white beard of Nestor and that of old king Priam. Virgil describes Mezentius’s to us, which was so thick and long as to cover all his breast; Chrysippus praises the noble beard of Timothy, a famous player on the flute. Pliny the younger tells us of the white beard of Euphrates, a Syrian philosopher; and he takes pleasure in relating the respect mixed with fear with which it inspired the people. Plutarch speaks of the long, white beard of an old Laconian, who, being asked why he let it grow so, replied: ’Tis, that, seeing continually my white beard, I may do nothing unworthy of its whiteness. Strabo relates, that the Indian philosophers, the Gymnosophists, were particularly attentive to make the length of their beards contribute to captivate the veneration of the people. Diodorus, after him, gives a very particular and circumstantial history of the beards of the Indians. Juvenal does not forget that of Antilocus, the son of Nestor. Fenelon, in describing a priest of Apollo in all his magnificence, tells us, that he had a white beard down to his girdle. But Perseus seems to outdo all these authors: this poet was so convinced that a beard was the symbol of wisdom, that he thought he could not bestow a greater encomium on the divine Socrates, than by calling him the bearded master, Magistrum barbatum.

Several other writers have treated of this subject. Voltaire often touches on it in his voluminous writings. The author of the Modes françoises has bestowed many pages on it; the learned Don Calmet has not thought this subject beneath his attention, on which he has written a particular work, intituled Histoire de la barbe de l’homme. The Italians have a modern work, intitled: Barbalogia del Caval. Valeriano Vanetti, 1760. This Vanetti, after giving an account of the revolutions which beards have undergone, enters into a very learned and serious dissertation on the various manners in which they were worn among the Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans; but the most obscure and least authenticated part of his work is that where he warmly maintains, against Van-Helmont, that Adam was created with a beard on his chin. I readily confess I have not carried my inquiries so far into remote antiquity. In the 16th century there were a great number of works published on the beard, of which I shall have occasion to speak in another place.

But the most extraordinary account in the history of beards is that given by Titus Livius. Infinitely better than the eloquence of a Demosthenes or the courage of an Alexander could have done, did the beard suspend on a sudden the ferocity of a people of barbarians thirsty of the blood of their enemies.

The Gauls, commanded by Brennus, had just taken Rome by assault.^[10] The senators, sitting, each at the door of his house, in their curule chairs, awaited death with that coolness and resolution so natural to these high spirited republicans. Their majestic looks and long white beards so astonished these fierce conquerors, that their rage for carnage gave place to admiration: all of a sudden they were struck motionless with astonishment; their arms fell from their hands. The Romans however continuing to preserve a grave and silent countenance, a Gaul, enraged to see the slaughter suspended by the sight of a long beard, boldly advanced, (as if to break the spell which deprived his countrymen of their wonted fierceness) and laid hold of that of an old man, who, shocked at the soldier’s audacity, knocked him on the head with his ivory rod. This stroke of the ivory rod destroyed the illusion, and became the signal of the massacre.^[11]

The beard was likewise very much esteemed among the old Romans; and even when they adopted, through effeminacy, the custom of shaving, they preserved the most religious respect for this mark of manhood. The first shaving of a young man was done with the greatest ceremony, and these first fruits of the chin were carefully collected in a gold or silver box, in order to be afterwards presented to some God, as a tribute of youth; this pious offering was mostly made to Jupiter Capitolinus.

While the Gauls were under the sovereignty of the Romans, none but the nobles and Christian priests were permitted to wear long beards. The Franks having made themselves masters of Gaul, assumed the same authority as the Romans: the bondsmen were expressly ordered to shave their chins, and this law continued in force ’till the entire abolishment of servitude in France. So likewise, in the time of the first race of kings, a long beard was a sign of nobility and freedom. The kings, as being the highest nobles in their kingdom, were emulous likewise to have the largest beard: Eginard, secretary to Charlemain, speaking of the last kings of the first race, says, they came to the assemblies in the Field of Mars in a carriage drawn by oxen, and sat on the throne with their hair dishevelled, and a very long beard, crine profuso, barbâ submissâ, solio residerent, & speciem dominantis effingerent.

To touch any one’s beard, or cut off a bit of it, was, among the first French, the most sacred pledge of protection and confidence. For a long time all letters, that came from the sovereign, had, for greater sanction, three hairs of his beard in the seal. There is still in being a charter of 1121, which concludes with the following words: Quod ut ratum & stabile perseveret in posterum, præsenti scripto sigilli mei robur apposui cum tribus pilis barbæ meæ.

Of all the people in the world, the Orientals seem to be those who have the most constantly worn long beards: several nations shaved when in mourning, such as the Syrians and Persians. Beards were, and still are at this day, under the controul of religious usages. Zingzon affirms, that the manner of wearing the beard is an essential point in the religion of the Tartars; that they call the Persians schismatics, because they have abated their rigour to such a degree as to arrange their beards in a manner directly contrary to the rite of the Tartars; he adds, that this dangerous heresy was the cause of a bloody war between these two nations.

All the world knows that the most dreadful oath among the Mahometans is to swear by the beard of their prophet. It is said in baron Tott’s memoirs, that the first care of an Ottoman monarch, on his ascending the throne, is to let his beard grow out: the Tartarian princes follow the same custom. The same writer observes, that sultan Mustapha III. was not satisfied with letting his grow out, but that he stained it black, in order that it might be more conspicuous the first day of his going out. The princes, kept prisoners in the seraglio, wear only whiskers, as likewise all the young people, who don’t think themselves fit to wear a whole beard ’till the age of maturity, and this is what they commonly call becoming prudent.

Several great men have honoured themselves with the surname of Bearded. The emperor Constantine is distinguished by the epithet of Pogonate, which signifies the Bearded. In the time of the crusades, we find there was a Geffrey the Bearded: Baldwin IV. earl of Flanders, was surnamed Handsome-beard;^[12] and, in the illustrious house of Montmorenci, there was a famous Bouchard, who took a pride in the surname of Bearded: he was always the declared enemy of the monks, without doubt because of their being shaved.^[13]

In the tenth century, we find, that king Robert (of France) the rival of Charles the Simple, was as famous for his exploits as for his long white beard. In order that it might be more conspicuous to the soldiers, when he was in the field, he used to let it hang down outside his cuirass: this venerable sight encouraged the troops in battle, and served to rally them when they were defeated.

William of Tyre relates an adventure, which proves how much a long beard was valued, and how disgraceful it was for a man of honour to be without one.

Baldwin, count of Edesse, being in great want of money, had recourse to a stratagem as new as the success of it appeared to him certain. He went to his father-in-law, Gabriel, a very rich man, and told him, that, being greatly pressed for money by his troops, to whom he owed thirty thousand michelets,^[14] and not being any way able to raise so large a sum, he had been obliged to pledge his beard for the payment of it. The astonishment of the father-in-law was so great at what he heard, that, doubting if he had well understood the count, he made him repeat the terms of this strange agreement several times; but being at length too well convinced of his son-in-law’s inability to raise the cash, the credulous Gabriel bewailed his misfortune, saying: “How is it possible for a man to find in his heart to pledge a thing that should be so carefully preserved, a thing that is the proof of virility, wherein consists the principal authority of man, and is the ornament of his face. How could you possibly consider as a thing of little value, continued this wise old man, what cannot be taken from a man without loading him with shame.”^[15] The count replied, to these just reproaches, that having nothing in the world that he valued so much, he had thought it his duty to pledge it to satisfy his creditors, and that he was determined to fulfill his promise, if he could not immediately find the money he so much wanted. The father-in-law, alarmed for the beard of Baldwin, instantly gave him the thirty thousand michelets, recommending him at the same time never more to pledge a property, on which the honour of a brave knight depended.

A celebrated painter in Germany, called John Mayo, had such a large beard that he was nicknamed John the Bearded: it was so long, that he wore it fastened to his girdle; and though he was a very tall man, it would hang upon the ground when he stood upright. He took the greatest care of this extraordinary beard; sometimes he would untie it before the emperor Charles V. who took great pleasure to see the wind make it fly against the faces of the lords of his court.

In England, the famous chancellor, Thomas More, one of the greatest men of his time, being on the point of falling a victim to court intrigues, was able, when on the fatal scaffold, to procure respect to his beard in presence of all the people, and saved it, as one may say, from the fatal stroke which he could not escape himself. When he had laid his head on the block, he perceived that his beard was likely to be hurt by the axe of the executioner, on which he took it away, saying: My beard has not been guilty of treason; it would be an injustice to punish it.^[16]

In France, the wise and learned bishop of Bellai, John Peter Camus, one of the greatest men of his time, and one of the greatest enemies of the monks, was likewise famous for a long beard. When he preached, he used to divide it into two or three tufts, according to the number of heads his sermon was divided into.

A bishop of Grenoble was famous in his time for the length of his beard.^[17] Molé, the lord keeper of the great seal, who had likewise a very long one, having seen the bishop of Grenoble’s, said, Now, God be thanked, my beard is under shelter.

What a number of beards should I have to celebrate, if I had resolution enough, to do it! what a crowd of names of heroes and philosophers would come to embellish this precious enumeration! You would be banished from it, sages of the age, who wish only to appear so in your writings; shaved philosophers, whose effeminate appearance always belies the glorious title under which you conceal the pusillanimity of your souls. But you would have an honourable place there, divine men, the pride of Rome and Greece! You, adorable Anacreon, the patriarch of gallantry, you, worthy to rank with the longest bearded of the ancients, who took care to let posterity know your pleasures and the beauty of your beard; come and convince our age that this mark of virility is not the enemy of gallantry. And you, O Adrian!^[18] who, of all the Roman emperors, were the first that brought in vogue this ornament of masculine faces, your example is a proof that the introduction of a like usage is not beneath the greatest prince: I would place on your head an everlasting laurel, and by your side a French monarch, your wise imitator: the friend and protector of arts and sciences. He thought the revival of the majesty of long beards was still wanting to his glory; and, in order to insure more certain and general success to this noble enterprize, he, as the first of his kingdom, let grow out on his royal chin that hair which characterises vigour and majesty. In this manner did chance favour the wise projects of Francis I. to restore an usage as ancient and natural as it was respectable.

This prince being at Remorantin at the count of St. Pol’s, twelfth day, 1521, amused himself with several of his courtiers in attacking with snow-balls a house which the count, with a party of noblemen and gentlemen, defended in the same manner, as is it had been a strong castle. The national courage was equally conspicuous on both sides. The vigorous attacks of the one party were followed by a still more vigorous defence from the other: victory seemed to hang suspended between the Greeks and Trojans, when all of a sudden ammunition failed in this second Troy. The besieged were filled with despair, and the enemy took advantage of their confusion to storm the place. The Trojans were on the point of being overcome by their courageous assailants, when captain de Lorges, having a little recovered himself, resolutely laid hold of a fire-brand, and, Hector like, boldly advanced toward the enemy, and threw it at random among the besiegers. The French monarch, who was climbing up among the foremost, unfortunately received it on his head. Both Greeks and Trojans threw down their arms immediately; an end was put to the play, and every one was taken up with the wound of Francis I. who, by this accident, was obliged to have his head shaved; and being desirous to recover on his chin what he had lost from his head, he let his beard grow out, and every body did the same.

The best establishments always meet with traducers: the beard was not without opposers; it had to fight at one and the same time against the usage, against the prejudice and bad taste of the age, and especially against the fury of the clergy and parliaments, who, as we shall see presently, wanted in those days to make every body shave. But the great and powerful enemies of this mode, far from setting bounds to its conquests, gave additional splendour to its triumph. In a little time, every body submitted to the yoke of the victorious beard, and, in the sequel, a shaved chin was looked upon as a sign of turpitude and debauchery.

Henry III. king of France, furnishes us with an example of the horror in which a shaved face was held in those days. Amidst the debauchery in which this prince was plunged, like a second Heliogabulus, he carried things so far as to appear at a ball close shaved. Some verses of a satire of the poet d’Aubigné have preserved us this fact, with the indignation it inspired. They may be thus rendered in English:

Let us turn our eyes on a more flattering object, and admire the beard of the best of kings, the ever precious beard of the great Henry IV. of France, which diffused over the countenance of that prince a majestic sweetness and amiable openness; a beard ever dear to posterity, and which should serve as a model for that of every great king; as the beard of his illustrious minister should for that of every minister.

It was in this golden age of bearded chins that those different fashions of wearing the beard called, sharp-pointed, square, round, fan,^[19] swallow’s-tail, artichoke-leaf, &c. successively appeared. There were even ligue-beards. Art was often successfully made use of to give them graceful forms; and the keeping of the beard in order was more expensive to the beaux of those days, than that of the hair of our fribbles is now.^[20] But what dependence is there to be put on the stability of the things of this world? By an event, as fatal as unforeseen, the beard, which was arrived at its highest degree of glory, all of a sudden lost its favour, and was at length entirely proscribed. The unexpected death of Henry the Great, and the youth of his successor, were the sole cause of it.

Lewis XIII. mounted the throne of his glorious ancestors without a beard. Every one concluded immediately, that the courtiers, seeing their young king with a smooth chin, would look upon their own as too rough. The conjecture proved right, for they presently reduced their beards to whiskers, and a small tuft of hair under the nether lip.

The people at first would not follow this dangerous example. The duke of Sully never would adopt this effeminate custom. This man, great both as a general and a minister, was likewise so in his retirement: he had the courage to keep his long beard and to appear with it at the court of Lewis XIII. where he was called to give his advice in an affair of importance. The young crop-bearded courtiers laughed at the sight of his grave look and old fashioned phyz. The duke, nettled at the affront put on his fine beard, said to the king: “Sir, when your father, of glorious memory, did me the honour to consult me on his great and important affairs, the first thing he did was to send away all the buffoons and stage-dancers of his court.”

The tuft of hair under the nether lip insensibly diminished, and at length entirely disappeared. This resolution caused much grief; several complained bitterly, and obstinately resolved not to follow the new mode. Le Mercure of that period bears honourable testimony of the esteem in which the long beards were held, even after their disgrace. The following sort of funeral elogy is taken from that work: “The beard, which is natural only to man, is the mark of his virility, and gives him precedency among his species; ’tis this token of manhood which adds a dignity to his features, and gives him an air of gravity and modesty, which makes him look full of wisdom.”^[21]

Neither the complaints of the one nor the elegies of the other were of any effect. Every body followed the court.^[22] Thou, O celebrated Mithon, whose name merits an honourable place among those of the illustrious men of thy country, thou alone hadst the resolution, amidst thy shaved countrymen, to let thy long beard remain, and to preserve it entire till thy last breath. May thy name, O Mithon, passing down to posterity, be always pronounced with rapture! may the most famous Academies propose thy elogy in emulation of one another! and may it be repeated there, in the most philosophical tone, that thou hadst the courage to appear like a man amidst a people of beardless boys.^[23]

Thus ended the reign of the beard in France. Notwithstanding the prejudice which exists at present, this mark of manhood has not lost its influence. Whenever a foreigner appears in France with a long beard, he not only attracts admiration, but likewise the confidence and respect of those that see him. A Genevese, called Liotard, is an example; he knew very well how to make an advantage of this ascendancy, which gives an imposing appearance to people greedy of novelty.

He was a portrait painter, and had lived three years at Constantinople, where his talents got him to be sent for by the grand seignior to come to the seraglio to draw the pictures of the sultanesses: he followed the dress of the Orientals, and, consequently, let his beard grow out, with as much less reluctancy, as it hid the deformity of his face. On his return to France, he resolved to retain his Levantine dress, and after this manner appeared at Paris in the year 1752. He soon perceived that he had no reason to be displeased with his whim. His dress and beard served him much better than his talents, to raise him above the crowd. It is easy to imagine the eagerness of the Parisians for this extraordinary man. The infatuation was universal; his name soon reached the court, where he was sent for at length to draw the portraits of the late king and the royal family, and where, in a short time, he made his fortune.

His talents, less astonishing than his dress, did not consist in the beauty of the colouring, but in the art of taking the most striking likenesses. The marchioness of Pompadour was hurt at the scrupulous accuracy of our painter. As she gave him one day a hundred pounds for a portrait which he had just drawn, she made use of these precious words, which ought to be written in letters of gold in the history of bearded chins: All your merit consists in your beard.^[24]

It was likewise through favour of a long beard that a young Frenchman, about ten years ago, preached a new doctrine in Arabia. He assumed the name of Arphaxad Tinnagelli: his quality was, that of disciple of J. J. Rousseau, on a mission in Arabia. His oriental dress and prophet’s beard concurred particularly to gain him proselytes.^[25]

There is nothing more eloquent than outward appearance, especially among a superficial people. Why then do those, who, for the interest of their state or the happiness of their subjects, are under a necessity of commanding respect, neglect such powerful means? The beard presents them with the most simple, most natural, and most persuasive of all. With that mark of manhood our warriors would no longer look like women; we should have venerable old men and priests more reverenced.

IT is a disgrace to man to have the most conspicuous mark of his virility taken off; to pretend that it becomes him to look like a woman, an eunuch, or a child, is the height of folly and ridiculousness. Even if this truth were not constantly supported by the will of nature, the opinion of all the most respectable characters of antiquity should be sufficient to establish it for ever among all nations, and this is what I would fain persuade my countrymen of.

A shaved chin was always a sign of slavery, infamy, or debauchery. Diogenes asked those he saw without beards, if they had not changed their sex, and were dissatisfied at being men. The loss of the beard, among a great many nations, was always accompanied by banishment. All the fathers of the church exclaimed against this shameful abuse, and always regarded a shaved chin as the effect of the vilest licentiousness.

The example of Alexander, no doubt, will be alleged against me, who, before the battle of Ardela, had all his soldiers shaved. I shall answer, that he never shaved himself, but constantly wore this characteristical mark of his valour, and that, if he ordered his soldiers’ faces to be trimmed, it was only, as Plutarch says, for fear the enemy should seize them by the beard.

I know very well too, that Scipio Africanus was the first Roman who daily used a razor, and that this mode was brought from Sicily to Italy by P. Ticinius, who brought with him a troop of barbers. But it is good to know, as Pliny very judiciously remarks, that, of all the nations that then consented to cut off their beards, the Romans were the last that yielded to this effeminate custom.^[26] This proves nothing more, than that luxury began to be predominant at Rome, and that luxury perverts every thing. Moreover, these particular cases should be reckoned among transient errors, which, being dissipated, give to truth an additional lustre.

Let us take a view of a period less remote, which, interesting us more, will shew the value of a beard, the disgrace of a shaved face, and the mischiefs that have been the consequence of it.

In the beginning of the French monarchy, Clotarius II. having a mind to appoint a Governor to his son Dagobert, chose Sadregesile, a man very learned for his time; he loaded him with honours, and created him duke of Aquitaine; and the new duke spared no pains to instruct his pupil; but it seemed the latter no more answered the intention of the king his father, than the lessons of his governor. The wild unruly character of the princes of those times must necessarily have submitted with difficulty to the will of master. Dagobert would not long endure the constraint which the duty of his education laid him under. He considered reprimands as so many outrages. Hatred and vengeance took possession of his proud heart, and soon broke out to attack Sadregesile.

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]

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]

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.

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]

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]

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]

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]

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.

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]

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].

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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]

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.

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]

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.

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.

If I open at hazard the old testament, I every where find proofs of this truth. It is there written how God threatened, his chosen people several times, by the mouths of his prophets, that he would have their chins ignominiously shaved; which was then a disgrace inseparable from slavery.^[48] David saw nothing more respectable in a man’s outward appearance than his beard: this is what made this psalmist king speak so honourably of that of the high priest Aaron,^[49] and think that nothing less than streams of blood could wash away the insult which had been offered the beards of some of his subjects.

We read in the Paralipomenon, that this prince sent ambassadors to Hanon, king of the Ammonites, to console him for the death of his father Naas; that this king, having been persuaded that these ambassadors were spies, had them all secured, and sent them back, after having had half their garments and half their beards cut off. On these news, David was greatly enraged; and in order that his envoys might avoid the disagreement of appearing at court in this disgraceful situation, he sent them word to stop at Jericho ’till their beards were grown out to their ordinary length; after which he marched against the Annmonites, and, in two bloody battles, destroyed seven thousand of their chariots, killed Sophach, their general, and forty thousand foot, and thus avenged the insult offered his ambassadors.^[50]

This massacre, though it had no other object than the cutting off of a part of some beards will appear neither unjust nor cruel, if we consider how much this ornament of virility was honoured among the Jews, and especially when it is known that there is a law in Leviticus, which expressly forbids to cut off any part of it.

God himself, before all his chosen people assembled, was pleased, by the means of Moses, to explain his intentions with regard to this decoration of the face of man. This law does not solely forbid shaving the chin, as the vulgar translation of the bible says, which would insinuate that the Hebrews had already made use of this effeminate custom; but, according to all the best versions of this holy book, we read: Don’t marr the corners of your beards, that is, let them grow naturally.^[51]

No precept nor other law whatsoever has since altered this. The divine legislator of our religion, far from changing it, respected it so much, that he submitted to it himself; the Apostles, and all the most holy and respectable followers of the Christian worship, have warmly supported the necessity of wearing a beard; but the purity of precepts, the simplicity of manners, and humble poverty, have disappeared with the times. We have rich pluralists, short mantled Chrysostoms, and prig-parsons; but, divines with venerable beards, fathers of the primitive church, where are you?

In the constitution of the Apostles, this precept is again repeated: The smallest hair of the beard must on no account be clipped, it is said therein: Oportet preterea non barbæ pilum corrumpere.^[52] If I trace things on, from the time of the Apostles to the entire establishment of Christianity, I find, that all the fathers, doctors, and saints of the rising church, strongly recommended the custom of wearing the beard, and regarded a bald chin as the mark of infamy and debauchery. Saint Clement the Roman, who lived likewise in the time of the Apostles, after mentioning the Levitican law, which we have already quoted, says, that God, who created us after his own likeness, will load those with his hatred who violate his law by shaving their chins.^[53]

Saint Clement of Alexandria, in several parts of his learned works, complains highly of this abuse so disgraceful for mankind; he speaks with great warmth against the rakes of his time, who were not ashamed to appear in public close shaved. This saint, who was still a better philosopher than a theologian, does not think it beneath him, in another part of his work, to write the elogy of the beard: It contributes, says he, to the beauty of man, as a fine head of hair does to that of a woman.^[54] Tertullian, especially, says a great deal about beards, and, with his usual eloquence, forcibly attacks the corrupt manners of his age, which had introduced the shameful custom of shaving; he supports his arguments by St. Jerome and St. Clement of Alexandria, and even goes beyond these two holy fathers.^[55]

Saint Cyprian has likewise expressed how much he thought a shaved chin contrary to the Christian institution. In deploring the state of this religion, he exclaims: There is no longer this religious devotion and entire confidence in the ministers of God to be found in the priests; no more works of mercy, no more order among the lower classes: the men cut off their beards, and the women paint their faces. And in another part: And notwithstanding it is written, You shall not cut off your beards, they depilate their chins and colour their cheeks. Thus, to please the world, they are not afraid to displease God.^[56]

It would be too long to cite the number of respectable authorities who have either written in praise of beards or censured shaved faces, who have not only looked upon it as an ornament conformable to Christian gravity, but maintained that it could not be cut away without a sin.^[57]

This opinion of the first fathers of the Church is supported by two councils: the first is the fourth council of Carthage, the 44th canon of which runs thus: Clericus nec comam nutriat, nec barbam radat. A clergyman must neither keep up his hair nor shave away his beard. Tho’ this canon has been entirely altered by the suppression of the word radat, as Tertullian remarks, and, after him, a number of commentators, it is certain it ought to be thus, which we will prove by what we are going to say. The second is a council held at Barcelona in 540, in the third canon of which we read: Ut nullus Clericorum comam nutriat, aut barbam radat. Let no clergyman either keep up his hair, or shave away his beard.

After such sacred laws, and the opinion and example of the apostles, and of all the fathers of the primitive church; after the decisions of two authentic councils, one should not think there had existed men sufficiently deceitful or ignorant to maintain, not only that it is indifferent to shave or not, but likewise that the beard is contrary to the institution of the Church. Lighted by the torch of truth, and guided by the most scrupulous impartiality, we will follow up the chain of the different events which have so often changed the sentiments and beards of one part of Europe.

I find all the popes of the earliest times of Christianity wore long beards, ’till the first division into two Churches, Greek and Latin. Their rivality had already broken out in the excommunication of the iconoclasts. When Charlemain became emperor of the West, the popes then threw off the yoke of the Grecian authority, and seized that occasion to distinguish themselves from their enemies by something particular. It was at this very epoch, according to fathers Henschenius and Papebrock,^[58] that Leo III. gave the Latin church, for the first time, the example of a pope shaved. The disputes soon redoubled. Photius, the Greek patriarch, renewed the pretensions of the clergy of the East to precendency over those of the West: he excommunicated, in his turn, pope Nicholas I. who had already excommunicated him. Never had the chins of the Greeks been so bearded, nor those of the Latins so closely shaved. Photius, having taken the title of œcumenical patriarch, declared the Western bishops heretics. Among other things, he reproached them with cutting off their beards. A strange reason for setting the Western and Eastern empires at variance, says a great writer of our age. To think this reason so strange, is making very light of beards.^[59]

Nicholas I. does not offer any thing in his own defence against this serious accusation. In his letter to Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, and the other bishops of France, A. D. 867, he only says, speaking of the Greeks: “Moreover, they endeavour to throw blame on us, because the clergy who are under our authority don’t refuse to be shaved.”^[60] This phrase, which shews that all the clergy at that time were constrained to appear shaved, presents nothing in excuse for this violent conduct. If the pope could have offered some reasons to palliate this looseness of discipline, he would not have failed to make use of them on this occasion; but he does not give one. Rivalship was the sole cause of these puerile dissensions. What a number of disputes, and troubles has not this ridiculous infatuation of the Latin priests occasioned! Had they but let their beards grow out, they would have avoided all these mischiefs.

The death of the patriarch, without destroying the schism, calmed people’s minds for some times, and the ignorance of the times (according to some) contributed greatly to extinguish the flames of this violent quarrel. John XII. forgetting, or perhaps not knowing the animosity that had reigned between the two churches, soon appeared again with a long beard according to fathers Henschenius and Papebrock.^[61]

This irregular and inconsequent conduct of the popes, and indifference for the true discipline of the Church, seems to be justified in a council held at Limoges in 1031. By the determinations of that assembly it is of little moment whether a priest be shaved or not. The reasons of the Greeks and Latins are there weighed, and the latter are said to support their arguments by the example of St. Peter. (This assertion is contrary to all truth, as all the monuments which have preserved us the image of that Saint prove.) They add, in favour of those priests that go shaved, that they ought to be distinguished from the laity by their outward appearance. This reason, were it just, would be good only at a time when it should be the fashion for laymen to wear long beards, and it ought to be an additional incitement to priests to let theirs grow out, among a nation who do not wear this mark of manhood.

“The others,” says the same council, speaking of the Greeks, “have chosen the custom of not shaving; they ground their choice upon the example of the Apostles Paul, and James the brother of the Lord, saying with reason, for nothing should be concealed, that the clergy, as the laity, ought to preserve on their faces this ornament of virility, as a dignity of the human condition, a dignity created by God himself, and with which he has been pleased to honour man alone. As to the clergy, they should be distinguished solely by the tonsure of the head. The Greeks add likewise, that our Lord of Nazareth always wore his beard.” By this session of the council of Limoges, no mention is made of the two councils which expressly forbid priests to cut off their beards, nor of the authority of the fathers and the Levitican law; this was to suit the circumstances: and the council concludes on this matter, that if the Greeks have nothing to reproach us with, we have nothing to reproach them with.^[62] After this declaration, though it is quite contrary to the fundamental discipline of the Church, the reader will be greatly surprised to learn, that the very same year, 1031, by a canon of the council of Bourges, all the clergy were ordered to get themselves shaved;^[63] nor will he be less so to find pope Gregory VII. (formerly friar Hildebrand, a shaved monk, a turbulent, ambitious man, and the declared enemy of emperors and kings,) firmly maintain, that a priest, who wore a long beard, was guilty of a high crime and misdemeanour against Christianity. This pope Gregory was a confounded shearer of beards: he called a council at Gironne in 1073, where the clergy were expressly forbidden to wear this mark of manhood.^[64] A few years after, this tyrant of the beards having learned that the archbishop of Cagliary preserved his in all its length, he immediately ordered him to get himself shaved, and at the same time wrote (in 1080) to Orzoc, the podestate of the town, these orders ... “We therefore order your bishop, our brother, to have his beard shaved, like all the Western clergy, who have preserved this custom ever since the commencement of the Christian faith:^[65] in consequence, we command you likewise to oblige all the clergy that are under your authority, to be shaved, and to confiscate the property of those who shall refuse to obey, to the profit of the Church of Cagliary: make use of severity, for fear lest this abuse should increase.”

This letter, wholly founded upon illusion, and which so justly characterises its author, proclaims the approaching destruction of the little beard yet left on the chins of the Latin priests. It was at this time no doubt that those ordinances de radendis barbis, which we still read in several communities, were made; and in a little time the laymen were the only ones that could, without a crime, wear long beard; but it did not continue so long.

The German priests soon followed this example, which is proved by a fragment of a letter preserved in the new history of the Benedictines of Black Forest, where Sigefroy of Goetz complains grievously to Papon, the reformer, that the Germans were beginning to imitate the French in several effeminate customs, among others, that of cutting off their beards. In time, the priests saw with pain, that they were separated from other men by a mortifying distinction: what should they do to relieve their offended self-love? Let their beards grow out? The difficulty of ordering it, even sometime after it had been forbidden, did not hinder them; but the quarrel with the Greeks was yet too recent for the Latins to think of looking like those haughty, clearsighted enemies. In order that all might be upon a par, it was decided, that the laity should be shaved: this mean had a very plausible appearance, and it was decided to begin with the princes.

That of Henry I. king of England, was the premier victim of the conjuration. Serlon of Abond, bishop of Seez, undertook the conquest of this royal fleece. Easter-day, 1105, he preached before this prince and all his court: his sermon ran entirely on heads of hair and beards; he exclaimed particularly against the length of the latter, which, he maintained, was contrary to the spirit of the Christian religion: his vehement tone and persuasive eloquence moved all the audience. The king, penetrated with compunction, resolved to be the first to give the example of a sacrifice as holy and new as courageous: then the preacher, approaching Henry, drew out of his sleeve a pair of scissars, and piously sheared the prince’s chin. All the assembly, carried away by this act of religion, would fain imitate him, and the holy bishop became the shearer of the whole congregation. This strange farce, which was not the only one, would appear a fable, if father Mabillon did not very seriously relate the particulars of it in his Annals of the Benedictines.^[66]

Some years after, Lewis the Young’s beard underwent the same fate. This prince having burnt three thousand five hundred Champenese, who had taken refuge in Vitry church,^[67] was soon a prey to his stings of conscience. Peter Lombard, bishop of Paris,^[68] assured him, that there was no more effectual way to expiate this crime, than to have his long beard cut off forthwith. The king clearly saw there was nothing more reasonable; and this pious bishop executed himself the function of barber to his majesty.

Frederick I. surnamed Redbeard, was not exempted from the common law; the colour of his beard, the example of two princes, and the strong solicitations of the clergy, prevailed on him to be shaved; and this emperor, who had courageously refused to hold the stirrup to pope Adrian IV. to kiss his feet, and lead his Spanish genet by the bridle, had not the resolution to withstand the priests on this occasion.

When the clergy had succeeded to shave the principal princes of Europe, they might justly expect to see a great many imitators among the rest of the people. Far better than violence, the example would have triumphed over the remaining beards; but the priests of those days of ignorance were strangers to all moderate means.

Godfrey, bishop of Amiens, saying mass Christmas-day, 1105, formed the design of unmercifully stripping all the bearded chins; those, who came to the offering with long beards, were turned back. Frighted at this cruel refusal, most of the men were eager to cut off the hair of their chins, hastily laying hold of scissars, and even knives, in order to be able to present themselves immediately before their bishop with a better grace.^[69]

Never was reason the motive of such indecencies. It seems as if truth had revenged itself on these silly, superstitious times at the expense of decorum.

Envy, under the imposing cloak of religion, had just scattered its venom; vengeance had its fill; every chin was shaved, and the Church enjoyed its triumph. Time moderates all things, even the anger of votaries; they forgot that beards had been anathematized: the successors of those very popes, who had looked upon a bearded priest as guilty of a shameful sin, were in a little time no longer afraid to sin themselves, and publicly appeared with long beards. Such were Henry III. Alexander IV. Adrian V. John XX. Nicholas III. &c. &c.

This calm was enjoyed but a short time, before a new storm arose against sacerdotal beards, stirred up by envy and ignorance, to destroy the work of peace and reason. The vicissitude of human things respects nothing. Lewis V. in Germany, Peter the Cruel in Spain, and Philip of Valois in France, had let out their beards, and the mode gained ground throughout Europe. Priests are not blessed with a character that shelters them from the influence of fashion; several were slaves to that which brought beards again in vogue. The popes themselves did not disdain it, though a number of provincial councils stood up against the new bearded chins: in 1323, clergymen, by a synodal statute of the church of Orleans, were forbidden to wear long beards, under pain of excommunication. Meanwhile, according to the quality and condition of the persons,^[70] other synodal statutes of the church of Beziers ordered the priests of the diocese to cut off their beards and hair of their heads, except just the crown, in order that they might apply themselves with more diligence to their studies and functions.^[71] A provincial council of Paris, and another of Sens, ordered the same; a council of the same town of Beziers, under archbishop Peter Narbonne, in 1351, canon xi. forbids wearing long beards; and as a punishment for such temerity, it is there said: We condemn the offender, if a canon, to be deprived of his daily distribution, and if an incumbent, to pay twelve deniers for the use of the church.^[72] The custom of wearing beards was condemned likewise by a synodal statute of the church of St. Malo, in 1370, and all sacerdotal beards were shorn off.

The beards of the laity, it seems, were spared in this general proscription. The time, no doubt, when the priests could take the liberty of cutting off the beards of both people and kings with impunity, began to decline.

The monks had, a long time before, settled rules for the government of their chins: in 807, at the assembly of Aix-la-chapelle, it was ordered, that the monks should not shave themselves at all during lent, and that the rest of the year, they should do it once a fortnight. We see in the statutes and customs of different monasteries, that the monks were shaved, except the lay-brothers, who were called Fratres barbati, bearded brothers.^[73] We find in old manuscripts the very prayers that were recited when a monk in full orders had his beard shorn. Humility was the motive of this custom, which was practised with much ceremony. At the taking of the habit, the beard of the candidate was blessed with great ceremony; and when he was made a monk, he dedicated his beard to God. This ceremony was practised likewise by the Heathens. See page 16 of this work.

This new storm was succeeded by another calm, and long beards seemed likely to have a fine time; and truly they appeared again in all their ancient majesty. Julius II. gave the signal, and was followed by all Europe. This pope, by his venerable look, recalled the image of the patriarchs of old. The cardinals, and all the Church, were eager to follow an example so commendable. The age was more enlightened: the ancient disputes were either forgotten, or only thought of to lament the injustice of their cause. The orthodoxy of beards was acknowledged, and truth shined in all its brightness; but gloomy envy at length came to obscure its splendour: some exclaimed that it was a piece of pride, others a scandal; and quarrels that should have been buried for ever in oblivion were again renewed. Jealousy, under a holy pretext, raised itself with more daringness than ever, and occasioned violent animosities. What writings appeared! what outrages and phrenzy!... Bella horrida, bella ... cerno.... But let us not entrench upon such precious matters: let us rather endeavour, with the same impartiality, to discover the origin of so many disturbances.

Bessarion, the famous Greek, first, archbishop of Nice, afterwards, cardinal, and, at length, patriarch of Constantinople, came into Italy with the archbishop of Russia, to endeavour to bring about an union between the Greek and Latin churches. Bessarion made no difficulty of subscribing to the orthodoxy of the latter; and this was what got him a cardinal’s hat: his long beard, and that of his companion, accustomed the court of Rome to this mode. Bessarion was one of the stoutest men of his time; every one longed to look like this illustrious man, were it only in the fleece on his chin; and his fine Grecian beard soon produced a number of Latin ones.^[74]

Some years after, Julius II. was elected pope; his youth, which suited but badly with the majesty of the papacy, determined him to let his beard grow out, in order to inspire more respect: he was the first pope of his time who gave the Church such a holy and rational example. Clement VII. one of his successors, did not imitate him at first; but having been detained five months in prison by the troops of Charles of Bourbon, the general of the emperor’s army, he came out as if regenerated and triumphant, with his face enobled with a large, bushy beard, which he would never part with. This custom was eagerly adopted by those clergy, who, by their revenues or exploits, held a distinguished rank in the Church or State. It was then that the inferior clergy, and especially the chapters, strongly opposed this pretended indecorum. We read, that, in the reign of Lewis XII. one Anthony de Langheac, canon of the church of Paris, abbot and canon of that of Clermont, counsellor-clerk to the parliament, and ambassador to the republic of Venice, could not enter the choir of the church of Our Lady at Paris with his long beard. On account of the commission with which the king had honoured him, he at length obtained permission to hear matins, which were then said at midnight.^[75] In a little time, they were not so scrupulous, as all the clergy let out their beards, even the lowest among them, in order to give themselves a pontifical appearance;^[76] when, in France, Francis I. (who might justly boast of having worn the first beard of his kingdom,) for œconomical reasons, armed the enemies of clerical beards with destructive weapons, and was the occasion of the war which we are going to speak of.

This king, in order to get money from the clergy of his kingdom, says doctor Zuinger, a contemporary, obtained a brief from the pope, which ordered all the French clergy to get themselves shaved, or else to pay a certain sum to have permission to wear their beard.^[77] A contribution from such a body might be of great service in a time of scarcity. Francis I. experienced it; for all the tufted prelates, court ecclesiastics, incumbents, and expectant clergymen, paid the money, and retained their beards; but all the canons of small revenue, village curates, and poor rectors, freed themselves from the impost by getting themselves shaved, and this was the source of the troubles which disquieted the reign of Henry II. The difference of the chins of the clergy of the same kingdom caused that dark, intestine war which owed its rise solely to jealousy.

Now is the time to mention the discussions which, on account of a beard affair, began to trouble the ancient capital of the world. Some seditious, jealous beings secretly fomented their ruin; the alarm increased; and beards were in the utmost danger, when Pierrius Valerianus undertook their defence. This man, one of the most learned and most bearded of his time discussed, in a most able manner, the cause he undertook; his book, intitled pro Sacerdotum Barbis, is dedicated to cardinal Medicis. A just reasoning and a strength of elocution are the great qualities of his discourse; we can perceive that the author was impressed with his subject; he quotes a number of authorities, both sacred and profane, which concur to the triumph of his cause. He complains that the respect due to the ministers of God is already but too much diminished, without endeavouring to destroy it by a debasing custom; and adds, that Jesus never made any law that tended to alter the Levitican ones, which we have cited; and that the son of God himself, having given the example of this discipline, all Christians ought to follow it. “What a piece of folly it is,” cries he, “to pretend that the beard, which was given by God, should be unworthy of his creatures.” He demonstrates, that the canon of the council of Carthage, which forbids clergymen to let out their beards, has been absolutely mutilated: he calls to his aid the opinion of all the great men of his time, and several ancient manuscripts, among others, that which is in the elector palatine’s library.^[78]

Let us now examine whether this canon of the council of Carthage, on which the antibearded gentry found their anathemas, deserves any confidence. According to them, these are the words of the canon of that council: Clericus nec comam nutriat nec barbam; and these, according to the sticklers for beards: Clericus nec comam nutriat, nec barbam radat. The former forbids to wear long beards; the latter orders it. So the whole depends on the adding or suppressing of the word radat.

It seems at first, in favour of bearded chins, that the termination of the phrase, nec barbam, should point out the suppression of a verb, such as radat; and indeed it would have been much more simple, and more regular, in the same sense, to write, Clericus nec comam nec barbam nutriat.

This objection, which begins to throw light on the wiles of the enemies of beards, would be but weak, were it not confirmed by a number of triumphant proofs, and especially by the opinion of the most celebrated and most laborious commentators, such as fathers Labbe and Hardouin, &c. Savaron, in his commentary on the epistles of St. Sidoin Apollinarius, warmly maintains, that the word radat has been suppressed from the 44th canon of this council of Carthage, and that the custom of wearing long beards was there precisely ordered. Father Sirmond, who published some time after a commentary on the same epistles, is of the same opinion as Savaron with respect to the suppression of this word radat. Charles Dumoulin, in his notes to the 5th chapter of the 1st record of the 3d book of the Decretals, assures us that the text of this canon has been mutilated, and that we ought to read nec barbam radat.

Let us see on what authority the opinion of these learned men is founded. The greatest part of the manuscripts of the councils have the word radat. Pierrius Valerianus, in his book pro Sacerdotum Barbis, quotes several, and those are the least suspected. Father Labbe has added a note to the canon in question, in which he numbers the manuscripts wherein the word radat is found. Father Hardouin assures us that this important radat exists in the most authentic manuscripts, such as those in the libraries of Corbie, Giblou, Barberin, Paris, &c.

From these modern proofs, let us pass to those which antiquity or the contemporaries of this council ought to furnish us with. St. Sidoin Apollinarius says very clearly, speaking of the time of this council of Carthage: Tum coma brevis & barba prolixa; At that time people wore short hair and long beards. Tertullian says a great deal about this same council; he maintains that the word radat has been suppressed in the 44th canon; he cries out upon the licentiousness of his age, too fertile in like impositions, and says, in plain terms! Corrigendum est reponendumque, juxta fidem veterum exemplarium, Clericus nec comam nutriat, nec barbam radat. This canon ought to be corrected, and, conformably to the fidelity of the old copies, it should be written, that no clergyman should wear his hair, or shave his beard.^[79] We see what a distance our short cloke clergy keep from this edifying regulation.

Saint Epiphanius lived in the time of this council of Carthage: this was a very learned Saint. Let us see in his writings if the fathers of those days proclaim the proscription of long beards. With respect to the heretic Massalians he speaks thus. “Is there any thing more contrary to good morals than their customs? They cut off their beards, the mark of manhood, and wear very long hair. Nevertheless, the sacred expressions of the constitutions of the apostles dogmatically prescribe the rules that are to be observed with respect to the beard: it is forbidden to cut off any part of it, for fear lest men should at length get themselves quite shaved, and lay hold of the effeminate manners and luxury of abandoned rakes.”^[80]

These reproaches, very conclusive in favour of the partisans of long beards, will be much more so, and silence the adversaries of that mark of manhood, if it be observed, that this same council of Carthage condemns as heretics those same Massalians whose shaved chins St. Epiphanius represents to be a crime. Is it likely that the Massalians should be condemned as heretics, and that at the same time the orthodox clergy should be required to imitate them, and follow a custom that is looked upon as the most scandalous of debauchery; such a law would be the height of inconsequence. It is much more reasonable to suppose, that, instead of the priests’ being ordered to have their chins shaved, they were forbidden to do it, that they might not look like the heretic Massalians. Besides, what could be opposed to the council of Barcelona, which was held some time after that of Carthage, a council that has never experienced any contradiction, and in which shaving the beard is again forbidden? We read in the third canon, Ut nullus Clericorum comam nutriat aut barbam radat. Let no clergyman keep up his hair or shave his beard.

We have demonstrated then the fraud of the antibearded priests, and proved that the word radat has been suppressed in the 44th canon. Clergymen therefore, by this council of Carthage, at which two hundred and fourteen bishops attended, are forbidden to cut off their beards, and the general opinion of the primitive church, on this point, is established.

If we did not know, that private interests can persuade men to contradict the best founded maxims, we should be greatly surprised no doubt to find learned men of distinction presume to write, that the general opinion of the primitive Church condemned long beards. At the head is cardinal Baronius (tom. i. ad. ann. 48). Let us refer the proselytes of this credulous writer of legends to le Mercure for April 1765; they will there find that a learned Jesuit, father Oudin in his inquiries concerning beards, proves, that this cardinal was a bad man, or that he would not read his St. Epiphanius.

The ordinances of the provincial synods and councils which have made use of this council of Carthage to justify their forbidding the clergy to wear long beards, should therefore be void of course: the edifice falls of itself when the foundation is undermined.

But let us return to the defenders of beards of the sixteenth century: Pierrius was not the only champion that appeared on this occasion. Adrian Junius, an ingenious physician, and distinguished for his learning, in his commentary on the hair of the head, says a great deal about clerical beards, with as much eloquence and more erudition than his predecessor; he relates every thing that had not been advantageously said before on the subject, and is not afraid to take a review of the opinions and examples of all the ancients; he establishes, that even when there should be neither law, constitution, nor council which ordered the priests to preserve their beards, they ought to do it, because it gives the wearer a grave, stern, respectable look, which becomes the ministers of the altar, and that their thus changing the nature of God’s work, in order to please mankind, is, for them, a very criminal piece of luxury.^[81]

These works produced their effect: nevertheless pope Paul III. being displeased with the severe tone of Pierrius and the sharp reproaches which he threw out against the manners of the clergy of the age, would not seem to comply thereto; but without issuing a formal decree against beards, as was talked of, he contented himself with commanding a cardinal briefly to order the priests to get themselves shaved.^[82]

The major part paid but little attention to this ordinance; some, more scrupulous, obeyed, but not without repugnancy: there were a few of the latter however, according to Gentian Hervet, who had reason to repent of their exactness: among others, he speaks of one Leonicus Thomeus, an old man of ninety, who was no sooner shaved, according to the decree of the pontiff, than he was seized with such a confounded tooth-ach, that he was obliged to solicit the pope’s clemency. Cardinal Bembe sent him forthwith a permission to wear his beard a reasonable length.

Let us now proceed to France, where the pope’s brief, obtained by Francis I. gave beginning to the envy which the shaved priests bore the bearded ones. Their jealousy had been brewing a long time, and only waited, to show itself, for the death of that prince, whose orders seemed still to be respected. Their animosity, already too much increased by this obstacle, broke out at length on the person of William Duprat, the son of the famous chancellor of that name: he was returning from the council of Trent, where his eloquence had made him conspicuous, and was going to take possession of the bishopric of Clermont, which he had been given some time before. The reader should take along with him that he had one of the finest beards in the kingdom. One Easter-day, when he came to his cathedral church to perform divine service, he found the gates of the choir shut; three dignitaries of the chapter were waiting for him at the entrance: one of them held a razor in his hand, the other a pair of scissars, and the third the book of the ancient statutes of that church, and pointing with his finger to these words; barbis rasis.

At the sight of this frightful preparation, the prelate clearly perceived that they aimed at his beard, the dearest object of his attention; two of these fatal enemies seemed to threaten it with the instruments with which they were armed; and the third kept crying: Reverend father in God, barbis rasis. The impatient dean had already laid hold of this episcopal fleece, when our bearded bishop stopped him, and being a little recovered from his fright, he endeavoured to convince him of the impropriety of working on such a great holy-day, and that it was better to defer this operation ’till the next day; but the temporizing prelate’s eloquence made no impression on the minds of these intractable men; the unmerciful dean kept his hold: full of indignation at this mortifying insult, and terrified for the fate of his cherished beard, William Duprat suddenly took to his heels, crying: I save my beard, and quit my bishopric.^[83] He immediately repaired to his country-house at Beauregard, three leagues from Clermont, and swore he would never more live in that capital.

It was in this place of retirement, that, being violently moved at the affront which his beard had received, he fell ill, and died of grief.^[84]

These fatal news made all the bearded clergy tremble. The standard of the revolt was set up, and the destruction of all clerical beards determined on; but Henry II. always took their part. Every new bishop put his beard under this king’s protection. The letter which he was obliged to write, the 27th December, 1551, to the clergy of the city of Troyes, who refused Anthony Caraciole for bishop on account of his long beard, is a proof of the interest he took in the beards of the clergy of his kingdom; “Dear and well beloved, it is said, but which we doubt, that you make a difficulty of receiving into your church our well beloved and trusty cousin Anthony Caraciole, your bishop, without his being shaved first, in consequence of some statutes which you have been used to observe in such cases: therefore, we have thought fit to write you these presents to request you will not stand upon this matter, but, to oblige us, excuse his compliance, as we mean to send him for a short time to some place out of the kingdom on business that concerns us, where we would not have him go without his said beard. Assuring ourselves that you will do so, we shall say no more, but that, by complying with our request, you will greatly oblige us, and may God continue his protection towards you. Given at Fontainbleau, &c.”^[85]

The pacific tone which Henry II. made use of had but little effect on the inferior clergy; the war was too much kindled; every day produced new scenes and new attacks by the mutineers, and new attempts by the king to quiet them. The canons of Mans refused to receive cardinal Angennes for their bishop, on account of his long beard. The cardinal wrote to them to prepossess them in his favour, and the king wrote to them likewise to calm them, but they would listen to nothing, and the prince was obliged to send an absolute order to the chapter of Mans, requiring them to receive the said bishop without insisting on his being shaved. Some years after, the canons of Orleans made a difficulty of receiving Morvillier for their bishop: the king was again obliged to write to the canons, to desire them to receive him with his beard. The canons of Amiens likewise refused their bishop, and he was obliged to have a famous law-suit with them to sustain the cause of his long beard.

About the same time, there was the greatest difficulty to get Peter Lescot de Clagny received canon of Our Lady at Paris with his long beard: he had need to join to his personal merit the qualities of counsellor to the court, almoner to the king, &c.

Soon after, the Sorbone gravely decided, that a long beard was contrary to sacerdotal modesty.^[86] At the same time the clergy, by an edict of the parliament of Toulouse, were forbidden to wear their beards.^[87] But persecution strengthens what it is eager to destroy: the beards triumphed in their turn; people even went so far as to give them a more agreeable form; they wore them frizzled, as appears by the order of the clergy of Burgundy against frizzled beards. Anthony Hotman wrote at that time his Pogonias, or dialogue on heads of hair and beards; he concludes with the elogy of the latter. In 1576 there was a poem in quatrains printed, intitled: Eloges des barbes rousses. In 1539, there was a book published, intitled la Pogonologie, by R. D. P. printed at Rennes, in 8vo. and Gentian Hervet wrote three essays on beards. We see, by these different writings, that, in those days, people were more taken up with their beards, than now.

As the best things have their traducers, the beard met with one in this Gentian Hervet, a learned Orleanese. He wrote a Latin discourse against beards; but in a little time, being staggered by the forcible reasons of his adversaries, he wrote a second, in which he advanced, that it was indifferent whether a priest wore his beard or not; in short, carried away by the force of truth, he at length wrote a third, in which he ably maintains that a priest absolutely ought to have a long beard on his chin.^[88]

Notwithstanding its success, its numerous apologists, and powerful partisans, the beard had still enemies; the provinces especially were the theatre of secret cabals, where, far from the court and the bearded powers, plots of vengeance were easily contrived, and their effects often broke out in provincial councils; and most of these councils, actuated by contrary sentiments, contradicted each other in their decisions.

Two provincial councils, held at Narbonne the same year, 1551, ordered all the priests of the diocese to shave themselves at least once a month; another council, held at Rheims in 1583, only recommended the hair of the upper lip to be cut off, in order to be able to receive the communion without any obstacle. A council of Bagneres, of the same year, gives the same orders. A council of Rouen, in 1581, orders the priests to shave off their beards entirely, which it is looked upon (says the council) as debasing for a minister of the altar to wear. A council of Malines, in 1579, absolutely condemns the custom of wearing beards, whilst another council, held in the same town, eight years after, declares nearly the contrary, ordering only a little of the hair of the upper lip to be cut away.^[89] All that one can conclude from all these provincial councils is, that the rage of party was gotten into the very sanctuary of truth to propagate disorder and irresolution.

All these ephemeral ordinances had no other effect than to prolong the reign of the beards of priests; they still flourished on their chins, when the laity no longer wore them. Fashion brought about, in a short time, what all these redoubled efforts had been unable to effect during more than a century. The popes retained their beards a good while, and the first, who appeared entirely shaved, was Clement XI. who lived at the beginning of this century. Most of the clergy left it off insensibly.

The Augustins, who still wore their beards, were ashamed of not being in the fashion as usual; they sent the famous father Eustace, of the Petty Augustins of Paris, to Rome, to obtain leave to shave their chins. They say, this father Eustace made use of great address on the occasion.

There were however some true believers, faithful observers of the Levitican law and the precepts of the primitive church, people on whom fashion has no influence, who courageously preserved their beards ’till towards the middle of the reign of Lewis XIV. A very respectable rector was one of them: when the bishop visited his diocese, he appeared with a venerable beard on his chin. The prelate exclaimed greatly against his thus making himself look like a patriarch, whilst he, his bishop and lord, was shaved; and he formally ordered him to get rid of his long beard. In vain did the poor rector cite the example of the pope then living, that of St. Francis of Sales, &c.; the bishop was inexorable, and the rector did not think fit to obey. Irritated at his obstinacy, the prelate sent him a writ to banish him from his living. By a singular piece of inattention, the place of banishment was left blank; the rector filled it up with Versailles, and immediately repaired to the residence of the kings of France. He affected to throw himself continually in the way of Lewis XIV.: his long beard was at length remarked by the king, who had him called, and asked him what was his business at court, and why he had such an extraordinary beard. The parson related his adventure to his majesty, who as pleased with it so much, that he sent back this grave pastor to his flock, and highly blamed the bishop for such a ridiculous whim.^[90]

Since this, beards have entirely disappeared, and have only been let grow out on the chins of the Capuchins; and religious jealousy has pursued them even to this last retrenchment: how many clamours have they not caused among the other monks! and what a number of libels and polemical productions have they had to endure!^[91] Such are the books intitled le Rasibus or le procés fait à la barbe des Capucins;^[92] la Guerre seraphique, ou Histoire des périls qu’a courus la barbe des Capucins par les violentes attaques des Cordeliers;^[93] les Capucins sans barbe, &c. all works of envy or vengeance, which I shall be careful how I mention on account of my great dislike to satire. Not satisfied with writing, the enemies of the Capuchins’ beards have employed the most violent and most unwarrantable means. The fatal catastrophe which happened, in 1761, to the Capuchins of the town of Ascoli, in the limits of Ancona, proves how much monkish vengeance is cruel: we read as follows in the Utrecht Gazette of that time. “Our reverend fathers, the Capuchins, have no longer any beards. One of their lay brethren, a cook in the monastery, having put a good dose of opium in their meat, unbearded all of them whilst they were asleep, and then forsook the order. The Capuchins are so ashamed of this droll adventure, that they no longer dare appear abroad.”^[94] Is it not clear to every body that base jealousy was what prompted this wicked brother to commit this deed? And is it not easy to discern the vengeance of an Italian monk in this attack on so many respectable beards? After so many outrages, how is it possible that bearded chins can any longer stand their ground? Without the express order to wear long beards, which is in the Bullarium of the brethren of that order, they would long ere this have abandoned the sad remains of the ancient majesty of the patriarchs.^[95] They little thought formerly, that their long beards, which they looked upon as a respectable ornament, would one day become an object of public contempt; or that it would make part of their outward humility, which they formerly made consist solely in the colour and price of their clothes; but time perverts every thing.^[96]

Whilst several sovereigns are taken up with the destruction of monasteries or the lessening of the number of monks, the Portuguese minister has just distinguished himself, not by destroying, but rendering them more respectable, by taking them from worldly practices, and restoring them all their ancient gravity: it was ordered, in 1784, that all the monks, of every order without distinction, should let their beards grow out entirely.^[97]

Reason, the interest of religion (which particularly depends on the respect its ministers inspire), an express law of the Divinity, the example of the legislature of the Christians and most of the popes, a precept of the constitutions of the apostles, the general opinion of the primitive Church and of all the pontiffs, and the decision of two councils, are the grounds on which the obligation, which the Christian clergy are under of wearing long beards, is supported. What is there to oppose against so many respectable authorities? The fashion? A heathen emperor opposed, to those who reproached him with not shaving his chin, the austerity of his manners, and replied: I won’t cast sheep’s eyes around me, embellish my phyz by making my mind hideous, and, in order to become agreeable, cease to be a philosopher. Besides: fortunately, I neither like to give nor receive kisses.^[98]

THE Capuchins, Carthusians, all the Portuguese monks, the Russian clergy and peasants, all the priests of the Greek Church, the German Jews, and the Anabaptists, are the only ones that wear beards in Europe.

Most of the inhabitants of Asia wear whiskers or beards more or less long according to their age.

All the followers of the law of Mahomet wear whiskers ’till they are forty, when they let their beards grow out, and preserve them afterwards all their lives.^[99]

All the north part of Africa is inhabited by bearded people.

Nature has denied a beard to the different nations of blacks who inhabit the interior and but little known parts of that quarter of the world.

In most of the islands of the Pacific ocean, the men preserve their beards, and some of them stain them different colours.

The author of Recherches philosophiques sur les Américains, doctor Robertson in his History of America, and many other respectable writers, maintain that all the original natives of America have absolutely no hair on their chins; they except only the Esquimaux, (the inhabitants of North America,) who wear beards, and are unlike the natives of the other parts.^[100] However, captain Cook says, that the want of beard in some of the American nations, proceeds less from a defect of nature than their custom of plucking them out by the roots to a greater or less degree: this he observed at Nootka, in his third voyage round the world: all the old men he saw on the west coast of America wore thick, bushy beards, but which were sleeked in the same manner as their hair generally is.

In the inner parts of America, Captain Carver met Savages with long beards on their chins. The following is his answer to those who have denied their having any. “After the age of puberty, their bodies, in their natural state, are covered with hair in the same manner as those of the Europeans. The men, indeed, esteem a beard very unbecoming, and take great pains to get rid of it, nor is there any ever to be perceived on their faces, except when they grow old, and become inattentive to their appearance....

“The Nawdowessies, and the remote nations pluck them out with bent pieces of hard wood, formed into a kind of nippers; whilst those who have communication with the Europeans procure from them wire, which they twist into a screw or worm; applying this to the part, they press the rings together, and with a sudden twitch draw out all the hairs that are enclosed between them.”^[101] Carver’s Travels, page 225.

The mask of Montezuma’s armour, (the last king of Mexico,) preserved at Brussels, and on which there are very long whiskers, seems to confirm the observations of captains Cook and Carver: it is evident that the Americans would not have imitated this ornament of man, if nature had not presented them with the model.

Therefore, the observations made by captain Cook on the west coast of America, those of captain Carver in the inner part of the continent, and the monument of the ancient customs of Mexico, which present us with Montezuma’s whisker’d mask, prove that the assertion of the historians against American beards is at least doubtful, is it is not destitute of foundation.

According to the observations of all travellers, it is certain that the men who inhabit the temperate zones, and are most advantageously favoured by nature, are likewise most bearded: it may likewise be remarked, that those, who bestow most attention to shaving, are the most subject to petticoat government, and consequently the vainest.

WILL reason, and the constant desire of nature at length determine the men of the present day to adopt the custom of long beards? I don’t believe it. The power of working such a revolution is reserved for opinion and fashion. But there are men in society who ought to be independent of these two wavering powers: these are those that govern the people, and whom religion and the state have entrusted with their interests and powers. These mediators between God and man, between the law and the citizen, who are not of the ordinary class, should be distinguished from those that are so. Regularity of conduct is not their first duty; it is the art of giving themselves, by means of their dress, an air of wisdom and gravity: all the virtues which their state requires are not sufficient, they must likewise have the appearance. People see only by their eyes; it is only physical objects that have the power of captivating their veneration or exciting their contempt. If a man, who wishes to gain the respect and confidence of the public, does not forsake the manners, customs, and fashions of the world, he will soon perceive the respect and confidence he enjoyed disappear. Not only the man, but the character with which he is invested, will lose its consideration; he will be like the wooden king which Jupiter sent to the frogs: his want of dignity drew on him the contempt and insults of his aquatic people.

Of all the exterior means that can attract the admiration of the people, a long beard is beyond a doubt the most powerful, the only one that is not sought after, the only natural one, and which cannot be reasonably taxed with vanity or pride. Our forefathers always thought, that both religion and morals were interested in the support of this ornament of man’s face. And truly, what priests were ever more respected than those old white bearded ones of the ancient religions, especially the patriarchs of the Israelites? In the beginning of Christianity, what veneration did not the grave, stern faces of the fathers of the Church command? Where are these divine men? and where the respect due to the ministers of God?

If the constant seeing of objects, which have the appearance of grandeur and majesty, stir up the soul and give it a spring; the sight of objects which have the appearance of weakness insensibly enervate and degrade it. The soul appears in the face: the man, who beholds in another, only the picture of effeminacy, soon learns to withdraw his esteem from him, and to no longer respect him; pious veneration, sincere consideration, and cordial friendship, are replaced by politeness and decorum, which are only the gloss of interest and egotism; people no longer fulfill the duties of society, nor do good for their own satisfaction; and if men’s outward, effeminate appearance is not the sole cause of all these evils, it greatly contributes towards them.

In the vast regions of the East, where long beards are highly esteemed, hospitality, filial piety, and fidelity in engagements are the premier virtues: men respect one another there. Let us take a people whom the same law subjects nearly to the same morals as ours, the Greek or Latin Christians who are under the Mahometan government: adultery, among them, is almost unknown, and yet the women are not confined; but they respect their husbands, and these husbands wear long beards.

Where is filial piety now-a-days? will the sad wrinkled faces of our old men, which incite our disgust and contempt, prevail above the sweet majesty of a long, white beard? Where is conjugal fidelity? was it ever less observed than at the time, and in the countries where men appear before a sex, that ought to be under their subjection, in an effeminate dress? How many are there, in this shameful age, the sad victims of this truth!

I repeat it; outward appearance is one of the great movers of a monarchial state, especially among a superficial nation. Deprive subjects of their popular notions of decorum, and of their customs, and people in place of their ornaments, manner, plausibleness, and grave imposing appearance: you will destroy most of the social virtues; there will be no more energy nor spirit in the people; all their mental faculties will become languid, if you cease to feed their imaginations with this aliment.

An extravagant turn of mind has produced many a hero; reason, by analysing every thing, has discouraged and slackened the course of our actions, and luxury, &c. &c. have completed the work. But what a generation is ours!

In times of yore, Diogenes, with a lantern in his hand, went through all the streets of Athens in broad day to seek a man: what could he find now in our great capital? breathing skeletons, women, children, horses, and that multitude of wheel carriages, the incommodious use of which crushes some to pieces and deprives others of the little strength they had left. Would he find men among these reverend gentry, whose toilet is their chief employment? Their chief merit is a mind fraught with borrowed trifles. Look at this modern Chrysostom, powdered and close shaved, repairing to an old coquet’s, a girl’s of the town, or the minister’s. Every where he repeats the same flattering phrases. With the one, an intriguer or base flatterer; with the other, an absolute libertine or a ridiculous puppy, he becomes every where necessary animal; in short, a downright plaything and piece of toilet furniture. Nothing gives this charming fellow any uneasiness; he is any thing they will have him, and will think just what they please: in a word, he performs the dapper parson admirably.

Would our wise Athenian have found men among our Parisians? The children are men, and the men, old men, and they persist in fleeing from nature, which begins to be tired of pursuing them. By their weak, frivolous minds, and pale effeminate looks, one would take them for women in disguise. Cloyed with all sorts of enjoyments, they know no other virtue than the talent of being agreeable, nor other vice than its reverse.

Would he at length find men in these delicate warriors who daily give their subalterns the example of effeminacy?

But do you, French soldiers, the precious remains of patriotism and national valour, always preserve the outward appearance of it; be particularly attentive to keep in your countenances this sign of valour, vigour, and intrepidity; retain those fierce looking whiskers which are the attribute of heroes; and remember that they were the ornament of Turenne, Condé, &c.

It would therefore be advantageous for those, who, by their situation or dignity, are intended to command others, to instruct them, or to merit their confidence, to let their beards grow out quite, whilst the soldier should only wear whiskers, which give a man a martial, brisk look.

Should the example of some great men, or some political event, at length revive the mode of long beards, our delicateness and urbanity might again be reconciled with the majesty of man. Would it not be possible for people of good taste to give the beard an agreeable form, in the same manner as was done some centuries ago? This attention, employing those who take a great deal of pains about adorning their pretty persons, would divert them perhaps from a more dangerous luxury. Besides the respect of one man to another, and of one sex to that which is its superior; this custom would produce another advantage. The resemblance of the two sexes seems to incline men to those shameful debaucheries which formerly soiled the glory of Greece and Rome, debaucheries that one hardly dares mention, and which a more particular distinction between men and women would greatly contribute to destroy.

It can never be denied; a man should appear what nature made him: this is the opinion of an illustrious philosopher and profound moralist.^[102] I cannot better conclude than with his own words. “A perfect man and a perfect woman should no more be alike in mind than in face: these silly imitations of sex are the height of folly; they make the wise man laugh and the lover run away.... In short, I take it, that, unless one be five feet six inches high, have a firm, tenor voice, and a beard on his chin, he should not pretend to be a man.”