Part 1

PRICE ONE SHILLING.

The Philosophy of Beards.

Physiological, Artistic & Historical.

by

T. S. Gowing.

Ipswich.

Published by J. Haddock.

London:

T. T. Lamare, 2, Oxford Arms Passage. Paternoster Row

Preface.

THE following Lecture, the first I believe on the specific subject, met with a warm reception from a numerous and good-humoured auditory; and received long and flattering notices from the local papers, “the Ipswich Journal,” and “the Suffolk Chronicle.” My enterprising and liberal publisher, has thought it worthy of more extended circulation. May the public think with him, and take it off his hands as freely as he has taken it off mine!

I have modified the passages which referred to the illustrations; the greater portion of which it would, independently of expense, have been impossible to give with any effect on a small scale. Mr. F. B. Russel, (to whom with his worthy brother artist, Mr. Thomas Smyth, I was indebted for the original design,) has, with a kindness I can better appreciate than acknowledge, anastaticized the humorous drawing of the ape and the goat, (page 21,) with which their joint talents enriched my Lecture. Mr. Russel has also very skilfully introduced into the title page, reduced copies of the three view’s of the Greek head of Jupiter, referred to at page 14.

Since its delivery, many notes have been added to the Lecture, which it is hoped will afford both amusement and information. It now only remains for me to make my bow, wish my “_fratres barbati_,” long life to their Beards, and shout

Vivat Regina!

Floreat Barba!

The Philosophy of Beards.

INTRODUCTION.

OUR most universal and most imaginative Poet, whose single lines are often abstracts and epitomes of poems, makes Hamlet exclaim—“What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a God! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!” And yet this same glorious creature, thus worthily praised, is, with singular contradiction, so forgetful of his higher attributes, that he can despise his reason! ignore his infinite faculties! deliberately deface that form so express and admirable! descend to actions that smack rather of the demon than the angel! Drown his godlike apprehension in drink! Shave off his majestic beauty! and become, instead of the paragon—the parody of animals!

O Fashion! most mighty, but most capricious of goddesses! what strange vagaries playest thou with the sons and daughters of men! What is there so lovely, that thou canst not, with a word, transform into an object of disgust and abhorrence? What so ugly and repulsive, but thou hast the art to exalt it into a golden image for thy slaves to worship, on pain of the fiery furnace of ridicule? Could a collection be made of the forms and figures, modes and mummeries, which thou hast imposed on thy ofttimes too willing votaries, it would task the most vivid imagination, the most fantastic stretch of fancy, to furnish a description of the incongruous contents!

Perhaps no human feature has been more the subject of Fashion’s changeable humours than the BEARD, of which it is purposed to night to render some account, in the hope of being able to prove that in no instance has she been guilty of more deliberate offences against nature and reason! With this object in view, the structure, intention, and uses of the Beard will be examined, and its artistic relations indicated; its history will next be traced; and a reply will then be briefly given to some objections against wearing the Beard, not embraced in the preceding matter.

I. PHYSIOLOGY.

A QUAINT old Latin author asks, “What is a Beard? Hair? and what is Hair? a Beard?” Perhaps a Beard may be defined more clearly by stating, that in its full extent it comprehends all hair visible on the countenance below the eyes, naturally growing down the sides of the face, crossing the cheeks by an inverted arch, fringing the upper and lower lips, covering the chin above and below, and hanging down in front of the neck and throat:—moustaches and whiskers being merely parts of a general whole. The hair of the head differs from that of the Beard. In an enlarged microscopical view, the former is seen to resemble a flattened cylinder, tapering off towards the extremity. It has a rough outer bark, and a finer inner coat; and contains, like a plant, its central pith, consisting of oil and coloring matters. At the lower part it is bulbous, and the pith vessels rest on a large vesicle. The bulb is enclosed in a fold of the skin, and imbedded in the sebaceous glands. The root is usually inserted obliquely to the surface. Avoiding further detail, let me at once direct your attention to the circumstance, that whereas the hair of the head is only furnished with one pith tube, that of the Beard, is provided with two.[1] Is not this a striking fact to commence with? and does it not at once suggest that this extra provision must have a special purpose? It has, as we shall presently see; and only now add, that the hairs of the Beard are more deeply inserted and more durable; flatter, and hence more disposed to curl.

Footnote 1:

Vide Hassell’s Microscopic Anatomy. Haller says “Withof calculated that the hair of the Beard grows at the rate of 1½ line in the week, which is 6½ inches in the year, and by the time a man reaches eighty, 27 feet will have fallen under the edge of the razor.”

As the Beard makes its appearance simultaneously with one of the most important natural changes in man’s constitution, it has in all ages been regarded as the ensign of manliness. All the leading races of men, whether of warm or cold climates, who have stamped their character on history—Egyptians, Indians, Jews, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Arabs, Greeks, Romans, Celts, Turks, Scandinavians, Sclaves—were furnished with an abundant growth of this natural covering. Their enterprizes were accordingly distinguished by a corresponding vigour and daring. The fact, too, is indisputable, that their hardiest efforts were cotemporaneous with the existence of their Beards; and a closer investigation would show that the rise and fall of this natural feature has had more influence on the progress and decline of nations, than has hitherto been suspected. Though there are _individual_ exceptions, the absence of Beard is usually a sign of physical and moral weakness; and in degenerate tribes wholly without, or very deficient, there is a conscious want of manly dignity, and contentedness with a low physical, moral, and intellectual condition. Such tribes have to be sought for by the physiologist and ethnologist; the _historian_ is never called upon to do honor to their deeds. Nor is it without significance that the effeminate Chinese have signalized their present attempt to become once more free men, instead of tartar tools—by a formal resolve to have done with pigtails, and let their hair take its natural course over head and chin.[2]

Footnote 2:

The whiskers of Confucius are said to be preserved as relics in China.

But the hair does not merely act as an external sign; it has, or it would not be there, its own proper and distinct functions to perform. The most important of these is the protection of some of the most susceptible portions of our frame from cold and moisture—those fruitful sources of painful, and often fatal, disease. And what more admirable contrivance could be thought of for this purpose than a free and graceful veil of hair—a substance possessing the important properties of power to repel moisture, and to serve as a non-conductor of heat and electricity.

Let me now show you what lies underneath the surface naturally covered by the Beard. We have first that ganglion or knot, the seat of the exquisitely painful affection tic doloureux. From it you will perceive white threads of nerves radiating to the jaws precisely in the line protected by the Beard. As you contemplate it, you can hardly fail to be struck with the fact, that in shaving may sometimes originate that local paralysis which disfigures the corners of the mouth. Next we have the nerves of the teeth, which all know to be so affected by changes of temperature.

Glance now, if you please, at those glands which secrete and elaborate the lymph which is to form part of the circulating fluid, and in which scrofula often has its origin, and some say its name. They are peculiarly liable to be affected by cold and moisture, presenting then those well-known unsightly swellings about the neck: they therefore receive an extra protection, the hair usually growing much more thickly on the parts where they are met with than elsewhere.

There are another set of glands, the sebaceous, which are thickly concentrated on the chin. Now shaving is the cause that the hairs on this part are liable to a peculiar and very irritating disease, which imparts a kind of foretaste of purgatory to many unfortunate victims of that unnatural practice. Those with strong beards most righteously suffer the most; for the more efficient the natural protection is, the greater is also the folly of its removal.

Lastly, there are the tonsils, and the glands of the throat and larynx. Few require to be told how common at present are acute and chronic affections of these parts.

That the Beard was intended as a protection to the whole of them, any one may satisfy himself by wearing it and then shaving it off in cold or damp weather. If not inclined to try this experiment, and mind I do not recommend it, perhaps the following evidence will be sufficiently convincing. Firstly, the historical fact that the Russian soldiers, when compelled to shave by Peter the Great, suffered most severely. Secondly, the medical testimony extracted from the Professional Dictionary of Dr. Copeland, one of the first Physicians of the day, where it is stated, “Persons in the habit of wearing long Beards, have often been affected with rheumatic pains in the face, or with sore throat on shaving them off. In several cases of chronic sore throat, wearing the Beard under the chin, or upon the throat, has prevented a return of the complaint.” Thirdly, the fact that several persons in this town (Ipswich) have been so cured. And lastly, this brief but important testimony of the men of the Scottish Central Railway, dated Perth, 24th August, 1853.

“We, the servants of the Scottish Central Railway, beg to inform you, that having last summer seen a circular recommending the men employed upon railways to cultivate the growth of their Beards, as the best protection against the inclemency of the weather, have been induced to follow this advice; and the benefit we have derived from it, induces us to recommend it to the general adoption of our brothers in similar circumstances throughout the kingdom. We can assure them, from our own experience, that they will by this means be saved from the bad colds and sore throats of such frequent occurrence without this natural protection.”

Signed by 5 Guards, 1 Inspector of Police, 2 Engine Men, and 1 Fireman.

Let us next see, for it is a highly interesting point in a consumption-breeding climate like ours, where thousands of victims annually die, _how_ the entrances to the air passages and lungs are protected by the upper part of the beard—the moustache. We draw air in commonly through the nose, and breathe it out through the mouth: though occasionally the two passages exchange functions. In a section of the nose, the interior of the nostril is seen to communicate, by a slightly curved passage, with the back entrance to the mouth and throat. Now as the incoming air must follow the direction of the draught, you will readily perceive that any air entering by the nostrils must pass through or over the hair of the moustache, and be warmed in the passage: and when the air makes its way by the mouth, it must pass under the moustache and be warmed, like that under the eaves of a thatched roof.

The moustache, however, not merely warms the inspired air, but filters it from superfluous moisture, dirt, dust, and smoke; and soon we trust it will be deemed as rational to deprive the upper lip of its protecting fringe, as to shave the eyebrows or pluck out the eyelashes.[3]

Footnote 3:

I can from personal experience state, that being subject when younger to swelling of the upper lip from cold, previous to entering Switzerland I allowed my moustache to grow. During six weeks excursion on foot, exposed to all weathers and stopping for none, being at one moment in warm valleys and a few hours afterwards at the top of ice-clad mountains, I never felt the least uncomfortableness about the mouth. When on returning home, however, I was foolish enough to shave, I paid dearly for the operation.

Those to whom the extent of preventible disease among our artizans—disease arising solely from their employments is unknown, I must refer to Mr. Thackrah’s book on that specific subject. Scientific ingenuity had long attempted to devise contrivances to relieve the men from some of these diseases; but the schemes were found too cumbrous, or otherwise impracticable. As so often happens, what _men_ were profoundly searching for, _nature_ had placed directly under their noses. Mr. Chadwick, to whom the public are indebted for much valuable information on questions connected with the public health, and Dr. Alison, of Glasgow, one of whom had seen the particles of iron settling on and staining the Beards of foreign smiths; and the other had noticed the dusty Beards of foreign masons when at work, were led to the conclusion, independently of each other, that the iron and stone dust were much better deposited on the Beard (whence they could be washed), than in the lungs, where they would be sure to cause disease. The lungs of a mason for instance are preserved in Edinburgh, which are one concrete mass of stone. These gentlemen published their convictions; and through the beneficial agency of the press, that information, aided by papers in the “Builder,” and in “Dickens’s Household Words,” soon found its way to our artizans, many of whom have tried the experiment, and borne testimony to its satisfactory results. At this juncture, let us also hope that the reiterated opinions of eminent Army Surgeons will at length be listened to, and the British Soldier be freed from the apoplectic leathern stock, and allowed to wear that protection which nature endowed him with. To the latter the most rigid economist cannot object, since it will add nothing to the estimates, while it will enable the soldier to offer, if not a bolder, at least a more formidable front, to the foe, and save him from many of the hazards of the march in which more die than on the field of battle!

Though the subject has as yet received too little scientific attention, there can be no doubt that the hair generally has a further important function to perform in regulating the electricity which is so intimately connected with the condition of the nerves.

I have reserved to the last the curious fact, which in itself is perfectly conclusive as to the protecting office of the Beard, and explains why its hair has additional provision for its nourishment; and this fact is, that while the hair of the head usually falls off with the approach of age, that of the Beard, on the contrary, continues to _grow_ and _thicken_ to the latest period of life. He must be indeed insensible to all evidence of design, who does not acknowledge in this a wise and beneficent provision, especially when he connects with it the other well-known fact, that the skull becomes denser, and the brain less sensitive, while the parts shielded by the Beard are more susceptible than ever, and have less vitality to contend with prejudicial influences.

Before proceeding further it may be as well briefly to answer the question, why, if Beards be so necessary for men, women have no provision of the kind? The reason I take to be this, that they are women, and were consequently never intended to be exposed to the hardships and difficulties men are called upon to undergo. Woman was made a help meet for man, and it was designed that man should in return, protect her to the utmost of his power from those external circumstances which it is his duty boldly to encounter. Her hair grows naturally longer, and in the savage state she is accustomed to let it fall over the neck and shoulders. The ancient Athenian and Lombard women are even said to have accompanied their husbands to the battle-field with their hair so arranged as to imitate the Beard. In more civilized society, various contrivances are resorted to by the gentler sex for protection, which would be utterly unsuitable to the sterner. In saying this I do not include the present absurd bonnet, which seems purposely contrived to expose rather than shield the fair, and to excite our pity and cause us to tremble while we cannot but admire!

Two curious exceptional cases of bearded women must not be passed over; one, that of a female soldier in the army of Charles XII, who was taken at the battle of Pultowa, where she had fought with a courage worthy of her Beard: the other, that of Margaret of Parma, the celebrated Regent of the Netherlands, who conceived that her Beard imparted such dignity to her appearance, that she would never allow a hair of it to be touched.

II. ARTISTIC DIVISION.

NOT only was the Beard intended to serve the important purposes just described; but, combining beauty with utility, to impart manly grace and free finish to the male face. To its picturesqueness Poets and Painters, the most competent judges, have borne universal testimony. It is indeed impossible to view a series of bearded portraits, however indifferently executed, without feeling that they possess dignity, gravity, freedom, vigour, and completeness; while in looking on a row of razored faces, however illustrious the originals, or skilful the artists, a sense of artificial conventional bareness is experienced.

Addison gives vent to the same notion, when he makes Sir Roger de Coverley point to a venerable bust in Westminster Abbey, and ask “whether our forefathers did not look much wiser in their Beards, than we without them?” and say, “for my part, when I am in my gallery in the country, and see my ancestors, who many of them died before they were of my age, I cannot forbear regarding them as so many old Patriarchs, and at the same time looking upon myself as an idle smock-faced young fellow. I love to see your Abrahams, your Isaacs, and your Jacobs, as we have them in the old pieces of tapestry, with Beards below their girdles that cover half the hangings.” The knight added, “if I would recommend Beards in one of my papers, and endeavour to restore human faces to their ancient dignity, upon a month’s warning he would undertake to lead up the fashion himself in a pair of whiskers.” In reference to this last allusion it may be as well to state, that the word whisker is frequently used by earlier authors to denote the moustache, and that in Addison’s time, a mass of false hair was worn, and the head and face close shaven.

To shew that it is the Beard alone that causes the sensation we have alluded to, look at two drawings on exactly the same original outline, of a Greek head of Jupiter, the one with, the other without the Beard! What say you? Is not the experiment a sort of “occular demonstration” in favor of nature, and a justification of art and artists? See how the forehead of the bearded one rises like a well-supported dome—what depth the eyes acquire—how firm the features become—how the muscular angularity is modified—into what free flowing lines the lower part of the oval is resolved, and what gravity the increased length given to the face imparts.

As amusing and instructive pendants, take two drawings of the head of a lion, one with and the other without the mane. You will see how much of the majesty of the king of the woods, as well as that of the lord of the earth, dwells in this free flowing appendage. By comparing these drawings with those of Jupiter, you will detect, I think, in the head of the lion whence the Greek sculptor drew his ideal of this noble type of godlike humanity.

Since this idea struck me, Mr. John Marshall, in a lecture at the Government School of Practical Art, has remarked, “that nature leaves nothing but what is beautiful uncovered, and that the masculine chin is seldom sightly, because it was _designed to be covered_, while the chins of women are generally beautiful.” This view he supported by instancing, “that the bear, the rabbit, the cat, and the bird, are hideous to look upon when deprived of their hairy and feathery decorations: but the horse, the greyhound, and other animals so sparingly covered that the shape remains unaltered by the fur, are beautiful even in their naked forms.” This argument, it seems to me, applies with greater force to the various ages of man. In the babe, the chin is exceedingly soft, and its curve blends into those of the face and neck: in the boy it still retains a feminine gentleness of line, but as he advances to the youth, the bones grow more and more prominent, and the future character begins to stamp itself upon the form: at the approach of manhood, the lines combining with those of the mouth become more harsh, angular, and decided; in middle age, various ugly markings establish themselves about both, which in age are rendered not only deeper, but increased in number by the loss of the teeth and the falling in of the lips, which of course distorts all the muscles connected with the mouth. Such, however, is the force of prejudice founded on custom, that people who sink themselves to the ears in deep shirt collars, and to the chin in starched cravat and stiffened stock, muffle themselves in comforters till their necks are as big as their waists; nay do not demur some of them to be seen in that abomination of ugliness—that huge black patch of deformity—a respirator, have still sufficient face left to tell us that the expression of the countenance would be injured by restoring the Beard!