The respect which has been shewn to the Beard in all parts of the
civilized, and in some parts of the uncivilized world, is well known to
the slightest erudition; nay, a certain prejudice in its favour still
exists, even in countries where the razor has long been omnipotent. This
impression seems to arise very naturally from the habit of associating
with it those ideas of experience and wisdom of which it is the emblem.
It cannot wait upon the follies of youth; its bushy and descending
honours are not known to grace the countenance of early life; and tho’
it may be said, in some degree, to grow with our growth, and strengthen
with our strength, it continues to flourish in our decline, and attains
its most honourable form and beauty when the knees tremble, the voice
grows shrill, and the pate is bare.
When the bold and almost blasphemous pencil of the enthusiastic painter
has aimed at representing the Creator of the world upon the canvass,
a flowing beard has ever been one of the characteristic and essential
marks of the Supreme Divinity. The Pagan Jupiter, and the graver
inhabitants of Olympus, would not be known without this majestic
ornament. Philosophy, till our smock faced days, has considered it as
the appropriate symbol of its profession. Judaic Superstition, Egyptian
Wisdom, Attic Elegance, and Roman Virtue, has been its fond protectors.
To make it an object of dissention, and alternately to consider it as a
sign of orthodoxy or the standard of heresy, was reserved for the
fantastical zeal of the Christian Church.
In more modern times, not only provincial and national, but general
Councils have been convened, Synods have been summoned, ecclesiastical
Congregations and cloistered Chapters of every denomination have been
assembled, to consider, at different periods, the character of this
venerable grown of the human visage. Infinite disputes have been, of
course, engendered, sometimes with respect to its form, at other times
with regard to its existence. Religion interested herself in one age, in
contending for that pointed form to which Nature conducts it: at a
succeeding period, anathemas have been denounced against those who
refused to give it a rounder shape; and to those, other denunciations
have followed, which changed it to the square or the scollop. But, while
religious caprice--for religion, sorry am I to say it, seems to be
troubled with caprices---quarrelled about form and shape, the disputes
were confined within the pale of the European Church: but, when the
beard lessened into whiskers, and the scythe of ecclesiastical
discipline threatened to mow down every hair from off the face, the East
sounded the alarm, and the churches of Asia and Africa took up the
cause, and supported, with all the violence of argument and
remonstrance, those honours of the chin that they still preserve, and to
which the existing inhabitants of those climates offer up a perpetual
incense.
In the history of the Gallic Church, the scenes of religious comedy
still live in description. For example:--a bearded Bishop appears at the
door of a Cathedral in all the pomp of Prelacy, and demands installation
to the diocese to which he is appointed. He is there met by a troop of
beardless Canons, and refused admittance, unless he will employ the
golden scissors they present to him, to cut that flowing ornament from
his face, which they would think a disgrace to their own, as well as to
the religion they profess. This same history, also, is not barren of
examples, where the sturdy prelate has turned indignant from the
disgraceful proposal, and sought the enforcing aid of sovereign power,
which has not always been able, without much difficulty, to compel the
reluctant chapter to acknowledge a bearded Diocesan. Others, unwilling
to risk or delay the power and wealth of an episcopal throne for the
sake of a cumbrous bush of hair, have, by the ready sacrifice of their
beards, been installed amid acclamations and hosannas, as disgraceful as
they were undeserved. It may appear still more ridiculous, but it is no
less true, that some of these bishops have compounded the matter with
their refractory clergy, in giving up the greater part of the beard, but
retaining the growth of the upper lip in the form of whiskers. The idea
of a bishop ‘en moustaches’ must trouble the spirit of a modern
christian; but such there have been, who, in the act of sacrificing to
the God of Peace, have exhibited the fierce terrific aspect of a German
Pioneer.
At length, the persecuted Beard, which has been the object of such
faithful veneration, finds in Europe, if we except part of Turkey, its
only asylum in the Capuchin Cloister; unless we add the casual
protection which is given to it by the fanatical Jew, or mendicant
Hermit.
* * * * *
_The following beautiful character is extracted from Mrs. D’Arblay’s
new work, entitled Camilla, or a Picture of Youth; Publishing by
the Editor on wove paper._
The form and the mind of Lavinia were in the most perfect harmony. Her
polished complexion was fair, clear, and transparent; her features were
of the extremest delicacy, her eyes of the softest blue, and her smile
displayed internal serenity. The unruffled sweetness of her disposition
bore the same character of modest excellence. Joy, hope, and prosperity,
sickness, sorrow, and disappointment, assailed alike in vain the uniform
gentleness of her temper: yet though thus exempt from all natural
turbulence, either of pleasure or of pain, the meekness of her
composition degenerated not into insensibility; it was open to all the
feminine feelings of pity, of sympathy, and of tenderness.
* * * * *