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.
Footnote 26:
_Plin._ Hist. nat. lib. vii, cap. 60.
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]
Footnote 27:
_Pauli Warnefridi Longobardi filii, Diaconi Forojulliensis, de gestis
Longobardorum._ Lib. vi. cap. 11.
The same usage had been observed a long time before; but, in the
ceremony, touching the beard, instead of cutting it off, was thought
sufficient. It was then held in higher respect. Clovis, king of France,
sent deputies to Alaric, king of the Goths, to treat with him, and
entreat the favour of him to come and touch his beard, and at the same
time to adopt him as his son.[28]
Footnote 28:
_Aimonius, Fragment. de Clod. & Alar. Regibus._
The beard has met with its tyrants; the Latin church furnishes a great
number. Charlemain deserved this title when he absolutely refused to let
the Beneventians have Grimoald for duke, unless he obliged the Lombards
to shave.[29] But no sooner was this same Charlemain emperor of the
West, than he adopted the Roman beard.[30] Circumstances change every
thing.
Footnote 29:
Paul Diacre says, the Lombards derive their name from the length of
their beard. He adds, that, according to the idiom of the country,
_lang_ signifies longam, and _baert_ barbam. Lib. i. cap. 9.
Footnote 30:
His beard is carefully preserved at Spire.
Since William the Conqueror, who robbed the English of their beards with
their liberty, history does not furnish us with any relation of this
kind more poignant, than that of Lewis the Young, king of France.
This king, in the war which he carried on against Theobald count of
Champaign, having taken Vitri by storm, _burnt three thousand five
hundred inhabitants, who had taken shelter in the church_, says Mezerai,
_as a sacred asylum_. He soon repented of this cruelty; and, by way of
making some atonement, he, at the instigation of the clergy, consented
to cut off his beard. His austere deportment and shaved chin greatly
displeased his young wife Eleanor, the daughter of the duke of
Aquitaine; she murmured against this ridiculous custom, and often
reproached her husband, with looking much more like a monk than a king.
If Lewis the Young’s shaved chin had caused nothing more than the
dislike of the young queen, the mischief would have been trifling; but
several historians assert, that it was the first cause of that
inextinguishable hatred which has so long divided England and France.
The following is the account they give of it.
Saint Bernard, spurred on by pope Eugene III. his old disciple, took
advantage of the religious disposition of the king of France, to
persuade him, that nothing but the undertaking of a second crusade could
appease the wrath of God. The penitent monarch, who had not hesitated to
let himself be shaved, was as easily prevailed on to depart for
Palestine. Eleanor, whether through curiosity, duty, or to divert the
uneasiness of mind which the continual absence of her husband caused
her, resolved to accompany him.
After the misfortunes with which this war was attended, the devout
prince met with one that affected his heart much nearer; he perceived
that his shaved chin had entirely alienated from him the affections of
Eleanor, and that this wife, expressing every day her liking for long
beards, listened with attention to the amorous assiduities of Raymund,
prince of Antioch, her paternal uncle. They add, moreover, that a young
Turk, called Saladin, uncommonly handsome, and endowed, no doubt, with a
notable beard, likewise made this princess forget the fatigues of this
long and unfortunate campaign.
Lewis the Young returned from Syria, still shaved, and, moreover,
vanquished: too certain of Eleanor’s infidelity, in the rage of his
jealousy, he assembled a council at Beaugency, where, spite of the
prudent and pacific advice of his minister, (abbot Suger,) he had his
marriage set aside, under pretext of consanguinity.
Eleanor, six weeks after her repudiation, married Henry, count of Anjou
and duke of Normandy, who was afterwards Henry II. king of England. The
French king saw with chagrin this new monarch, his vassal, in possession
of his wife and the provinces which composed her dowry; he declared war
against him; and this is the foundation of that destructive rivality
which has so long troubled England and France. Who would have thought
that the cutting off of a beard, six hundred years since, should have
been the cause of a war the flames of which are scarcely extinguished,
and which not long since set a great part of our globe in blaze.[31]
Footnote 31:
“This woman (Eleanor)” says Mezerai, “consummate in all sorts of
wickedness, lived more than eighty years, kept up a war for more than
sixty years, and left a hatred, between France and England, which has
lasted more than three centuries.”
The Templars, that order of monks and soldiers, who had the faults of
both, wore their beards like the Orientals. Philip the Handsome, king of
France, thought it advisable to destroy these religious soldiers, and to
have a great number of them burnt. Their execution was preceded by
cutting off their beards, either to disgrace them more, or to deprive
them of that grave imposing air which it gave them.
Soldiers and princes were not the only ones for whom a shaved chin was a
mark of infamy: philosophers and learned men have always abhorred these
naked faces. Paul Jove, in his elogy of Francis Filelfo, relates a
trifling event which proves how much the learned of those days valued
their beards. A violent dispute arose between the Italian, Filelfo, and
a Greek professor called Timothy; the question was, whether a certain
Greek syllable were long or short. Things were carried to such a height,
that Filelfo waged a considerable sum, and Timothy his long beard. The
affair was at length decided. Timothy was declared vanquished; and, to
save his beard, which he had just lost, he made Filelfo very
advantageous offers; but the latter, inexorable, would have nothing but
the beard he had won: he insisted on having the unfortunate Timothy
shaved, and retained the spoils of his adversary’s chin as a monument of
his victory.
When, by an event which has been already related, Francis I. introduced
the mode of long beards into France, the parliaments and all the lawyers
stood up against this ornament so suitable to the gravity of their
functions: all the magistrates shaved, while the young men of fashion,
and all the court, appeared with a venerable beard. This contrast in
dress lasted longer than it ought to, through the obstinacy of the
lawyers. The self-importance which they shewed in this sort of contest,
is one of those lineaments of character which the philosophical observer
should not let escape him.
The rapid progress which this mode of long beards daily made, soon
alarmed the members of the parliament of Paris; they thought it highly
necessary to stop the progress of such a dangerous usage: being
thoroughly persuaded that it was essential towards magisterial gravity
to be constantly shaved, they made a law, in 1535, commonly called in
those days _the edict of beards_, by which all magistrates and lawyers,
even litigants, were absolutely forbidden to appear in the Justice-hall
with a long beard.
Francis Olivier, a man of the court, who was afterwards chancellor,
experienced all the hatred that the parliament had for long beards, when
he presented himself to be admitted to the charge of master of requests:
he was at first refused, for the sole reason of not being shaved.
Notwithstanding the pressing solicitations of our candidate, the
parliament was inflexible, and Francis Olivier was obliged to sacrifice
his long beard to his interest, or rather to the childish prejudice of
that court.
The parliament of Toulouse distinguished itself likewise, by pronouncing
a decree which expressly forbade the wearing long beards. A gentleman
wanted to solicit in this court without complying with this
unfashionable ordinance; the parliament replied very seriously to him,
that he should have justice done him when he should be shaved.[32]
Footnote 32:
GENTIEN HERVET, _de redendâ barbâ oratio_.
_There were neither attorneys nor counsellors in the sovereign courts of
justice that could presume to appear in court on St. Martin’s day, with
a long beard, without incurring a fine; and this was observed likewise
in the inferior jurisdictions._ These are the words of a writer nearly
contemporary: he adds likewise, that it was highly necessary to be
careful how one came to present a request without being shaved first.
_Such-a-one would have been finely snubbed_, says he, _who should have
come with a long beard to present a request, so much so, that whoever
wanted to present one, readily put his beard in his sleeve_.[33]
Footnote 33:
_Pogonologie, ou Discours facétieux des Barbes. I am surprised_, says
the author of this work, _at the ordinance of a certain magistrate,
who commanded all the millers of his district to cut off their
beards_.
An advocate at the parliament of Paris was a victim to this rigorous
antipathy. They relate, that having presented himself in the hall to
plead a cause with a long beard, Peter Lizet, the first president,
ordered him, in open court, to cut it off immediately, or else the
parliament would refuse to hear him. The advocate was obliged to obey
this tyrannical order. _Tome 2. des Memoires de Litérature de Salengre._
Fortunately, these unmerciful enemies of bearded chins were unable to
exercise their persecution but over the small number of people dependant
upon them; they would have shaved all the French, if the nation would
have let them to. But this rage for disbearding insensibly died away,
and, in a little time, these enemies of toleration complied with the
usage which they had endeavoured to proscribe: so, this sort of league
among the magistrates against the beards of the French was attended with
no disagreeable consequences.
Things are very different when similar whims enter the brain of despots.
The two following relations will prove what ravages a razor in their
hands may cause.
Chardin relates, that a minister of the king of Persia, a scrupulous
observer of the law of Mahomet, wore in consequence a long beard which
he had very white. It was not the fashion to be so religious at the
court: the courtiers were satisfied with long whiskers, which they could
turn up under their ears; but they wore very short beards. The king was
shocked that his minister did not follow this mode, but obstinately
persisted to wear a long beard. In a drunken moment, he sent for a
barber, and ordered him to cut it off immediately. The minister, who was
obliged to submit to this rigorous order, begged the operator not to cut
so near the skin; but the king, perceiving that he was badly obeyed,
fell into such a rage, that he ordered the barber’s hand to be cut off
immediately.
The czar Peter, who had so many claims to the surname of _Great_, seems
to have been but little worthy of it on this occasion. He had the
boldness to lay a tax on the beards of his subjects. He ordered, that
the noblemen and gentlemen, tradesmen, and artisans (the priests and
peasants[34] excepted,) should pay a hundred rubles, to be able to
retain their beards; that the lower class of people should pay a copeck
for the same liberty, and he established clerks at the gates of the
different towns, to collect these duties. Such a new and singular impost
troubled the vast empire of Russia. Both religion and manners were
thought in danger. Complaints were heard from all parts; they even went
so far as to write libels against the sovereign; but he was inflexible,
and, at that time, powerful. Even the fatal scenes of _St. Bartholomew_
were renewed against these unfortunate beards, and the most unlawful
violences were publicly exercised. The razor and scissars were every
where made use of. A great number, to avoid these cruel extremities,
obeyed with reluctant sighs. Some of them carefully preserved the sad
trimmings of their chins, and, in order to be never separated from these
dear locks, ordered that they should be placed with them in their
coffins. Oh! Peter the Great, John James was very right, you did not
possess true genius![35]
Footnote 34:
The priests and peasants of Russia still wear their beards.
Footnote 35:
See _Du Contrat Social_ of John James Rousseau. Voltaire has censured
this assertion.
Example, more powerful than authority, produced, in Spain, what it had
not been able to bring about in Russia without great difficulty. Philip
V. ascended the throne with a shaved chin. The courtiers imitated the
prince, and the people, in turn, the courtiers. However, though this
revolution was brought about without violence and by degrees, it caused
much lamentation and murmuring: the gravity of the Spaniards lost by the
change. The favourite custom of a nation can never be altered without
incurring displeasure. They have this old saying in Spain: _Desde que no
hay barba, no hay mas alma. Since we lost our beards, we have no more
souls._
Well, it’s now a whole century since we wore beards. Have we gained by
the change? This well merits an investigation. The Spanish proverb,
which might very well be applied to us, seems to account justly for our
state of abasement. If, as a modern philosopher said, _stupor reigns_,
it is, no doubt, because we no longer wear our beards. But let us
console ourselves; the source of these evils is nearly dried up. The
fashion of long beards is on the point of being renewed, an epoch which
I pronounce to be nearer than people think. All our present fashions and
customs are nothing more than old ones revived, and which will disappear
in their turn. The revolution is just at an end: the rapidity of our
changes has accelerated its course, and a new reign is at hand. You
pretty fellows of the present day, Jemmy-Jessamy parsons, jolly bucks,
and all you with smock-faces and weak nerves, be dumb with astonishment,
I foretel it, you will soon resemble men.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAP. IV.
_Of BEARDED WOMEN._
A Woman with a beard on her chin is one of those extraordinary
deviations with which nature presents us every day; as to those women
who, in order to pass for men, have put on false beards, it was in
consequence of some particular circumstance: that there have been others
whose character, seconded by nature, made them regard a long beard as an
honourable phenomenon for their sex, must seem at this time more
extraordinary; but it would appear almost incredible that the eagerness
of women to command should prompt them to make use of artificial means
to have a beard on their chin, and, by this usurpation, to dispute with
man the symbol of his sovereignty, and that, to put a stop to this
disorder, the laws should have interfered, if the authenticity of the
evidence which we have left did not put it beyond a doubt.
It is Cicero himself who gives an account of this singular law,
instituted to prevent the women’s ever succeeding to get a beard: they
are expressly forbidden by it _to shave their cheeks_. It is taken from
the twelve Tables; the following are the words: _Mulieres genas ne
radunto. Let not women presume to shave their cheeks._[36]
Footnote 36:
Cicero, _de Legibus_. _Lib._ ii.
If the abuse which was the cause of this law is one of the greatest
encomiums on beards, it presents us however with room for comparison.
The women of the present day are every wit as envious of commanding, as
those of whom Cicero speaks; but their means are very different.
It is beyond a doubt that the women of those days were very far from
disliking a beard. The Venus of Cyprus, (whom the ancient Greeks
represented with a bushy beard on her chin,) seems to strengthen this
assertion.
As to bearded women, and those who have done themselves the honour of
appearing so, we have several examples.
In the cabinet of curiosities of _Stutgard_ in Germany, there is the
portrait of a woman called _Bartel Graetje_, whose chin is covered with
a very large beard: she was drawn in 1587, at which time she was but
twenty-five years of age. There is likewise in the same cabinet another
portrait of her when she was more advanced in life, but likewise with a
beard.
It is said that the duke of Saxony had the portrait of a poor Swiss
woman taken, remarkable for her long, bushy beard; and those who were at
the carnival at Venice in 1726, saw a female dancer astonish the
spectators, as much by her talents, as by her chin covered with a black,
bushy beard.
Charles XII. had in his army a female grenadier: it was neither courage
nor a beard that she wanted to be a man. She was taken at the battle of
Pultoway, and carried to Petersburg, where she was presented to the czar
in 1724: her beard measured a yard and half[37].
Footnote 37:
Russian measure.
We read in Trévoux’s dictionary, that there was a woman seen at Paris,
who had not only a bushy beard on her face, but her body likewise
covered all over with hair. Among a number of other examples of this
nature, that of Margaret, the governess of the Netherlands, is very
remarkable: she had a very long, stiff beard, which she prided herself
on; and being persuaded that it contributed to give her an air of
majesty, she took great care not to lose a hair of it. This Margaret was
a very great woman.