Part 2

A word, therefore, on the expression of Bearded faces. The works of the Greeks,[4] the paintings of the old Masters, but above all the productions of the pencil of Raphael, justly styled “the Painter of Expression,” is a sufficient general answer to this ill-considered charge. It would indeed be strange if He who made the male face, and fixed the laws of every feature—clothing it with hair, as with a garment, should in this last particular have made an elaborate provision to mar the excellency of His own work! Nothing indeed but the long effeminizing of our faces could have given rise to the present shaven ideal—to the forgetfulness of the true standard of masculine beauty of expression, which is naturally as antipodal as the magnetic north and south poles, to that of female loveliness, where delicacy of line, blushing changeable colour, and eyes that win by seeming not to wish it, are charms we all feel, and at the same time understand how inappropriate they are when applied to the opposite sex; where the bold enterprizing brow—the deep penetrating eye—the daring, sagacious nose, and the fleshy but firm mouth, well supported on the decided projecting chin, proclaim a being who has an appointed path to tread, and hard rough work to do, in this world of difficulties and ceaseless transition.

Footnote 4:

Elmes says, “The Beard in Art has an ideal character as an attribute, and distinguished by its undulating curl the Beard of Jupiter Olympius from that of Jupiter Serapis (who has a longer and straighter Beard) the lank Beard of Neptune and the river Gods, from the short and frizzly Beards of Hercules, Ajax, Diomede, Ulysses, &c.”

So much for the general charge; if we examine the separate features, there can be no question that the upper part of the face—the most godlike portion—where the mind sits enthroned, gains in expression by the addition of and contrast with the Beard; the nose also is thrown into higher relief, while the eyes acquire both depth and brilliancy. The mouth, which is especially the seat of the affections, its surrounding muscles rendering it the reflex of every passing emotion, owes its general expression to the line between the lips—the key to family likeness; and this line is more sharply defined by the shadow cast by the moustache, from which the teeth also acquire additional whiteness, and the lips a brighter red. Neither the mouth nor chin are, as we have said, unsightly in early life, but at a later period the case is otherwise. There is scarcely indeed a more _naturally_ disgusting object than a beardless old man (compared by the Turks to a “plucked pigeon,”) with all the deep-ploughed lines of effete passions, grasping avarice, disappointed ambition, the pinchings of poverty, the swollen lines of self-indulgence, and the distortions of disease and decay! Now the Beard, which, as the Romans phrased it, “buds” on the face of youth in a soft downiness in harmony with immature manliness, and lengthens and thickens with the progress of life, keeps gradually covering, varying, and beautifying, as the “mantling ivy” the rugged oak, or the antique tower, and by playing with its light free forms over the harsher characteristics, imparts new graces even to decay, by heightening all that is still pleasing, veiling all that is repulsive.

The colour of the Beard is usually warmer than that of the hair of the head, and reflection soon suggests the reason. The latter comes into contact chiefly with the forehead, which has little colour; but the Beard grows out of the face where there is always more or less. Now nature makes use of the colours of the face in painting the Beard—a reason by the bye for not attempting to alter the original hue, and carries off her warm and cold colours by that means. Never shall I forget the circumstance of a gentleman with high colour, light brown hair, full whiskers of a warm brown, deepening into a warm black, and good looking, though his features, especially the nose, were not regular—taking a whim into his head to shave off his whiskers. Deprived of this fringe, the colour of his cheeks looked spotty, his nose forlorn and wretched, and his whole face like a house on a hill-top exposed to the north east, from which the sheltering plantations had been ruthlessly removed.

The following singular fact in connection with the colour of the Beard, I learnt in chance conversation with a hairdresser. Observing that persons like him with high complexion and dark hair, had usually a purple black beard: he said, “that’s true, sir,” and told me he had “found in his own Beard, and in those of his customers, distinct red hairs intermingled with the black,” just as it is stated that in the grey fur of animals there are distinct rings of white and black hairs. This purplish bloom of a black Beard is much admired by the Persians; and curiously enough they produce the effect by a red dye of henna paste, followed by a preparation of indigo.

There is one other point connected with colour which ought not to be omitted. All artists know the value of white in clearing up colours. Now let any one look at an old face surrounded by white hair, whether in man or woman, and he will perceive a harmonizing beauty in it, that no artificial imitation of more youthful colours can possibly impart. In this, as in other cases, the natural is the most becoming.

Permit me to conclude this section of my lecture by reminding all who wish to let their Beards grow, that there is a law above fashion, and that each individual face is endowed with its individual Beard, the form and colour of which is determined by similar laws to those which regulate the tint of the skin, the form and colour of the hair of the head, eyebrows, and eyelashes; and therefore the most becoming, even if ugly in itself, to their respective physiognomies. What suits a square face, will not suit an oval, and a high forehead demands a different Beard to a low one. Leave the matter therefore to nature, and in due season the fitting form and colour will manifest themselves. And here parties who have never shaved have this great advantage over those who have yielded to the unnatural custom, that hair will only be visible, even when present, in its proper place, be better in character and colour, and more graceful in its form.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, as all history we are told grew out of fable, allow me, as a sort of intermezzo, to preface my history by “a Fable for the Times.”

An Ape, one day, said to a Goat, “Why wear that nasty ugly Beard? I’ll shave you for a quarter groat Cleaner than Sheep was ever shear’d.”

“Thank you, Sir Ape!” the Goat replied, “I’ll think of it.” To court he ran, Where he the foplings busy spied Effacing ev’ry mark of man:

Thinking to win the softer sex By making themselves _softer_ still. “Ah!” says our Goat, “ah! ah! I’feggs, I’ll be in fashion, that I will!”

He seats himself, the Ape’s not slow, But tucks the cloth in, and then lathers; When lo! stalk’d by a goodly row, A solemn train of old Church Fathers!

With these came Doctors of each Art, And each one pointed to his Beard! Our Goat sprang up, with sudden start, Like one whom conscience makes afeard.

“O Ape! this man’s a creature brave, To whom we all like slaves submit; Bearded to-day—t’morrow he’ll shave, Then where’s the good of his boasted wit!

“There’s your apron! take your basin! ’Tis best to abide by nature’s rule: His Beard no Goat will see disgrace in, Whom nature did not make a fool!”

MORAL.

Let your Beards grow in their natural shapes, God made you all _Men_, don’t make yourselves _Apes_!

III. HISTORICAL SURVEY.

EGYPTIANS.

HAVING seen that the Beard is a natural feature of the male face, and that the Creator intended it for distinction, protection, and ornament, let us turn lightly over the pages of history and examine the estimation in which it has been held at various times among the leading people, ancient and modern.

The first nation which suggests itself is the Egyptian, and very peculiar forms of Beard were assigned by them on their monuments to their gods, kings, and common people. That of the gods is curled and the length of the oval of the face: that of the kings is shaped like an Egyptian doorway, and three fourths of the same standard: of which the people’s is one fourth and nearly square. This appendage seems from the appearance of an attaching band to have been frequently artificial, and probably the Egyptians, who, as you may see by the wig in the British Museum, wore false hair, also wore false Beards. Some have supposed the forms alluded to, to be mere symbols of the male sex on the monuments; but this notion is disproved by male persons being represented without them. That they were occasionally so used, however, is clear from the kingly Beard on that symbol of royalty the Sphynx.

The priests of this ancient nation are stated to have removed every hair from the body thrice a week; and they ultimately compelled the people to shave both their heads and faces; and all slaves and servants, though foreigners, were obliged to do the same. That this arose from some superstitious notion of cleanliness, is confirmed by the remark of Herodotus, “that no Egyptian of either sex, would on any account kiss the lips of a bearded Greek, or make use of his knife, spit, or cauldron, or taste the meat of an animal which had been slaughtered by his hand.”

In times of mourning, however, the Egyptians allowed the hair of the head and Beard to grow in token of grief.

JEWS.

Such was the practice of the Egyptians; and it is highly important to take the Jews next, because at the period of our first knowledge of them as a people, they appear in bondage to the former nation; and it is now generally believed that most of the usages established by Moses had more or less reference to Egyptian customs, from which he was desirous of weaning them. As might be expected from the inspired Lawgiver, whose sublime books start with the grand assertion, that man was made “in the express image of God,” any attempt to alter the natural features of the “human face divine,” was denounced and emphatically interdicted. Twice is the commandment issued—first to the whole people, “thou shalt not mar the corners of thy Beard,” in other words, thou shalt not alter the form thereof, which I thy God have appointed! Then to the Priests, with the addition, that they should not make baldness upon their heads. It is of the utmost consequence to recall the superstitious practice of the Egyptian Priests, and to remember that Moses issued this command to the Aaronites, fresh from Egypt, because it most convincingly shews that the practice of shaving, even when resorted to with the view of pleasing the Deity, by an extreme degree of external purity, in approaching His mysterious presence, was directly and most absolutely forbidden. It is as if God had said, “What art thou, O man! who thinkest in thy vain imagination that I, thy Creator, knew not how to fashion thee! and blasphemously supposest that thou canst please me, by superstitiously sacrificing what I, in my Almighty wisdom, had endowed thee with, for protection and ornament!” And, as if to mark the distinction more strongly, Moses enjoined in the strictest manner every ordinary and natural method of purifying the person.

It cannot but be instructive to note, that thus on the very threshold of history, we have two customs so opposite brought into contrast—the one strongly condemned, the other most awfully sanctioned. And it is the more necessary to mark this, because there are many religious persons who have by custom acquired the Egyptian notion, and forgotten its emphatic condemnation. There are many who, though told that certain diseases to which the more active of the clergy are specially liable, might be prevented and may be cured, by simply wearing the Beard, will still insist upon their ministers paying the penalty invariably attaching to a violation of God’s laws, because their prejudices lead them to fancy a smooth face rather than a manly one.

As further confirmation of our idea that the object of this law of Moses was to prevent any of the natural features from being materially altered—he objected not to trimming the Beard, which was a common Jewish practice—is to be found in the first verse of the 14th chapter of Deuteronomy, where the people are commanded not to shave their eyebrows; which was a customary mark of grief among some bearded nations. The Jews too, unlike the Persians and others, instead of shaving the Beard in time of mourning—though in the violence of oriental grief they sometimes plucked it—usually left it merely untrimmed or veiled, till the days of mourning were passed.

You all remember the fearful vengeance David took when his ambassadors were disgraced by shaving their Beards.

The Beard continued to be worn in all its glory by these chosen people, and it would be impossible for us to imagine to ourselves the appearance of any of their patriarchs, judges, priests, prophets, or mature kings—or of the sublime founder of our religion—or of the chosen twelve—save the youthful John, without this venerable and venerated feature. What painter would dare such an offence to our most sacred associations, as to represent any of these with the smirking smoothness of razored neatness!

That in Mahomet’s time, the Jews still held to their primitive custom, is evident from that lawgiver’s command to his followers to clip the whiskers and Beard, in order to distinguish themselves from the Jews. Indeed the latter, in every way most remarkable people, have clung to the prescribed custom with all the force of religious feeling and firm conviction. And however in modern times some of the laity, impelled by a desire to mix unobserved amongst the populations of Western Europe, may have sacrificed conviction to convenience, their Rabbies have remained invariably consistent in their testimony to truth and nature; and one of the most enduring impressions of my youth is the remembrance of the Chief Rabbi Herschel treading the streets of London, like the last of the prophets, in dark robes, with long pale face and flowing Beard,

And eyes, whose deep mysterious glow, Disdainful of each fleeting show, Dwelt in the old and sacred past, Or Seer-like scann’d the future, vast.

ASSYRIANS AND BABYLONIANS.

The Assyrians and Babylonians, as we know from the researches and discoveries of Layard and others, wore highly ornamental Beards, in which they were followed by the ancient Persians, and the bands appearing on them were of gold.

PERSIANS, ARABS, AND TURKS.

The ancient Arabs, like their kindred, the Jews, were Bearded, and like them also they have preserved their Beards intact, though their faith has more than once changed. From Mahomet’s time we may class them for our purpose with the Turks and Persians, since all have manifested the same respect for the Beard, looking upon it as the perfection and completion of man’s countenance and the type of freedom; and shaving as a mark of debasement and slavery.[5] Mahomet, who sanctioned dyeing the Beard, preferred that it should be of a cane colour, which was the hue assigned by tradition to Abraham’s. One of the points of Persian heresy is preferring a black Beard, and a particular cut; and about this hair-splitting difference, they once waged a cruel war with the Uzbec Tartars, in which they were accustomed to lay their enemies’ Beards as trophies at the feet of the Shah.

Footnote 5:

“It is customary to shave the Ottoman Princes as a mark of subjection to the reigning Sultan; and those who serve in the Seraglio have their Beards shaven as a sign of servitude, and do not suffer it to grow till the Sultan has set them at liberty.”—_Burder’s Oriental Customs._ Volney says, “At length Ibrahim Bey suffered Ali his page to let his Beard grow, _i.e._, gave him his freedom, for among the Turks to want the Beard is thought only fit for slaves and women.”

As instances of respect paid to the Beard, we may cite the common Mahomedan oath “by the Beard of the Prophet!” and the form of supplication, “by your Beard, or the life of your Beard.” The Turks will point to theirs and say, “do you think this venerable Beard could lie?” And a man’s testimony used to be so much measured by his Beard, that in hiring a witness, length of this appendage was an indispensable qualification. To touch another’s Beard, unless to kiss it respectfully, is considered by all these people a great insult. When two friends meet, to kiss it, sometimes on both sides, answers to our shake of the hand—how are you? and “may God preserve your Beard!” is a form of invoking a blessing on a friend. In the bosoms of their families the Beard is treated as an object of reverential fondness—wife and children kissing it with the most tender and respectful affection. To express high value for a thing, they say, “it is worth more than one’s Beard.”[6]

Footnote 6:

Dr. Wolff says, Mahomed Effendi told him “that the Mahomedans believed that though Noah lived 1000 years, no hair of his blessed Beard fell off, or became white; while that of the Devil consists only of one long hair;” and the same Mahomed, wishing to compliment two midshipmen, “hoped they would some day have fine long Beards like himself.”

“Shame on your Beard!” is a term of reproach, and “I spit on your Beard!” an expression of the most profound contempt. When the Shah of Persia, in 1826, was speaking to our Ambassador, (Sir J. Malcolm,) concerning the Russians, to shew how low he esteemed them, he exclaimed, “I spit on their Beards!”[7]

Footnote 7:

Niebuhr says, “I once saw, in a caravan, an Arab highly offended at a man who had accidentally bespattered his Beard. It was with difficulty he could be appeased, even though the offender humbly asked his pardon, and kissed his Beard in token of submission.” Though I avoided breaking the argument by its insertion under the account of the Jews, it may be interesting to state, that Moses, in Numbers, orders a man to be considered unclean for seven days, whose Beard has been defiled in this way: and that David could scarcely have devised a more efficient means to convince Achish of his madness, than the expedient he adopted of allowing his saliva to descend upon his Beard.

To cut off the Beard is considered a deep disgrace and degradation. The noted Wahahee Chief Saoud was accustomed to shave the Beard as a punishment for the gravest offences. He had long wished to purchase the mare of a Sheikh of the Shahmanny tribe, but all his offers were rejected. A Sheikh of the Kahtans, however, having been sentenced to lose his hairy honors, when the barber appeared, exclaimed, “O Saoud, take the mare of the Shahmanny as a ransom for my Beard!” The offer was accepted, and a bargain struck with the owner of the mare for 2,500 dollars, which he declared he would not have taken, nor any other sum, had it not been to save the Beard of a noble Kahtan.

Even when disease or accident renders necessary the removal of the whole or part of the Beard, it is only at the last extremity that an Arab will yield; and then he lives secluded, or if obliged to go out, wears a thick black veil, until his chin can reappear “with all its pristine honours blushing thick upon it.”

Almost every Mahomedan carries a comb with him for the sole purpose of arranging his Beard: this is often done, especially after prayers; when the devotee usually remains sitting on his heels and industriously using the comb. The hairs which fall are carefully collected, to be either buried with the owner, or deposited previously in his tomb, after having been first separately broken in order to release the guardian angels.

To perfume and fumigate the Beard with incense is a common eastern custom.

In mourning, the Persians shave themselves; and Herodotus relates one instance when they also cropped the manes and tails of their horses in honor of their leader Mardonius.

One wiseacre of a Sultan is said to have shaved his Beard, saying “his councillors should never lead him by it, as they had done his forefathers!” forgetting that he had still left them the convenient handle of his nose—by which, as you know, ladies and gentlemen, people have been led from time immemorial. Let me hope, therefore, no one will cite this as an historical precedent for shaving.

He was fortunately succeeded by wiser men, and the Sultan is yet distinguished by a goodly Beard:[8] as is also the Shah of Persia, and all the Arabs and their Chiefs.

Footnote 8:

It used to be considered one of the almost impossible feats of Chivalry to pluck a hair from the Sultan’s Beard.—(May the Russians find it quite so!) The romance of Oberon is founded on this notion, and Shakspeare makes Benedict say in a spirit of bravado, “I’ll fetch you a hair off the great Cham’s Beard.” (_i.e._ Khan of Tartary’s Beard.)

GREEKS.

The ancient Greeks were world-famous for their Beards. All Homer’s heroes are bearded, and Nestor the Sage is described as stroking his as a graceful prelusion to an oration. Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto, Mars, Vulcan, Mercury, are represented with Beards. Apollo is without, as an emblem of perpetual youth. Hercules and the demigods are also well furnished. And Æsculapius the God of Health,—significant fact!—is most abundantly endowed. The mother of Achilles, when supplicating Jupiter, touches his Beard with one hand, with the other his knee.

As might be supposed from their hardy characteristics, the Spartans especially cherished the Beard. When one Nicander was asked why? he replied, “because we esteem it the ornament that preeminently distinguishes man.” It being demanded of another why he wore so _long_ a Beard? his noble reply was, “Since it is grown white, it incessantly reminds me not to dishonor my old age.”[9] Plutarch, after mentioning the bushy hair and Beard of the Spartan commander Lysander, says, “that Lycurgus was of opinion that abundance of hair and Beard made those who were fair, more so, and those who were ugly, more terrible to their enemies.” Regarding shaving as a mark of slavish servitude, they compelled their chief magistrates to shave their upper lips during their term of office, to remind them that though administrators of the laws, they were still subject to them.

Footnote 9:

The Rev. John More, of Norwich, a worthy clergyman in Elizabeth’s reign, who is said to have had the longest and largest Beard of any Englishman of his time, seems to have chosen this Spartan for his model; since when asked to give a reason for it he replied, “that no act of his life might be unworthy of the gravity of his appearance.” And Baudinus, quoted by Pagenstecher, says, Frederick Taubman, the celebrated German wit, humourist, and theologian, being asked the same question answered, “in order that whenever I behold these hairs, I may remember that I am no vile coward or old woman, but a man, called Frederick Taubman.”