Wrinkles in the face are signs of advanced age, or disease, or habits of
profound meditation, or frequent indulgence in frowning and grief. The
wrinkles on a thinker’s forehead do not arouse our disapproval, because
they are often eloquent of genius, which excuses a slight sacrifice of
the smoothness of skin that belongs to perfect Beauty. In women,
however, we apply a pure and strict æsthetic standard, wherefore all
wrinkles are regarded as regrettable inroads on Personal Beauty. Old
women, of course, form an exception, because in them we no longer look
for youthful Beauty, and are therefore gratified at the sight of
wrinkles and folds as stereotyped forms of expression bespeaking a life
rich in experiences, and associated with the veneration due to old age.
Such wrinkles are characteristic but not beautiful; and it may be
stated, by the way, that Alison’s whole book on Taste is vitiated by the
ever-recurring argument in which he forgets that we may take a personal
and even an artistic interest in a thing which is characteristic without
being beautiful.
In youth, while the skin is firm and elastic, the wrinkles on the
forehead or around the eyes, caused by a frown or smile, pass away,
leaving no more trace than the ripples on the surface of a lake. With
advancing age the skin becomes looser and less elastic, so that frequent
repetition of those movements which produce a fold in the skin finally
leaves an indelible mark on the furrowed countenance. Woman’s skin,
being commonly better “padded” with fat than man’s, is not so liable to
wrinkles, provided attention is paid to the laws of health. Mantegazza
suggests that the simplest antidote for wrinkles would be to distend the
folded skin again by fattening up. The daily use of _good_ soap and
slight friction helps to ward off wrinkles by keeping the facial muscles
toned up and the skin elastic.
The (voluntary) mobility of the skin of the forehead, to which we owe
our wrinkles, affords an interesting illustration of the way in which
facial muscles, once “useful,” have been modified for mere purposes of
expression. “Many monkeys have, and frequently use, the power of largely
moving their scalps up and down.” This may be of use in shaking off
leaves, flies, rain, etc. But man, with his covered head, needs no such
protection; hence most of us have lost the power of moving our scalps. A
correspondent wrote to Darwin, however, of a youth who could pitch
several heavy books from his head by the movement of the scalp alone;
and many other similar cases are on record, attesting our simian
relationship. But lower down on the forehead, our skin has universally
retained the power of movement, as shown in frowning and the expression
of various emotions.
At first sight it is somewhat difficult to understand why meditation
should wrinkle the skin; but Darwin explains it by concluding that
frowning (which, oft repeated, results in wrinkles) “is not the
expression of simple reflection, however profound, or of attention,
however close, but of something difficult or displeasing encountered in
a train of thought or in action. Deep reflection can, however, seldom be
long carried on without some difficulty, so that it will generally be
accompanied by a frown.”
Fashionable women sometimes endeavour (unsuccessfully) to distend the
skin and remove wrinkles by pasting court-plaster on certain spots in
the face. But the repulsive fashion of wearing patches of court-plaster
all over the face as an ornament (“beauty-spots!”), doubtless had its
origin in the desire of some aristocratic dame to conceal pimples or
other skin blemishes. At one time women even submitted to the fashion of
pasting on the face and bosom paper flies, fleas, and other loathsome
creatures.
The African monkeys who held an indignation meeting when they first
heard of Darwin’s theory of the descent of man, had probably just been
reading a history of human Fashions.