Sard’napulus eye; so much woman all over
Was he, that one twelfth-day, this doubtful animal,
Without brains or consequence, such appeared at a ball.
Let us turn our eyes on a more flattering object, and admire the beard of the best of kings, the ever precious beard of the great Henry IV. of France, which diffused over the countenance of that prince a majestic sweetness and amiable openness; a beard ever dear to posterity, and which should serve as a model for that of every great king; as the beard of his illustrious minister should for that of every minister.
It was in this golden age of bearded chins that those different fashions of wearing the beard called, sharp-pointed, square, round, fan,[[19]] swallow’s-tail, artichoke-leaf, &c. successively appeared. There were even ligue-beards. Art was often successfully made use of to give them graceful forms; and the keeping of the beard in order was more expensive to the beaux of those days, than that of the hair of our fribbles is now.[[20]] But what dependence is there to be put on the stability of the things of this world? By an event, as fatal as unforeseen, the beard, which was arrived at its highest degree of glory, all of a sudden lost its favour, and was at length entirely proscribed. The unexpected death of Henry the Great, and the youth of his successor, were the sole cause of it.
[19]. At the time that fan-beards were in fashion, says Mr. de St. Foix in his Essais sur Paris, they were kept in that form by means of a wax preparation, which gave the hair an agreeable odour and any colour that was desired. The beard was set in order at night, and in order to prevent its being put out of form before morning, it was done up in a sort of purse made on purpose.
[20]. We read in the Menagiana, that a man very fond of his beard paid three half-crowns a month for keeping it in order: on which cardinal Campege wittily observed, That his beard cost more than his head was worth. The same thing might be said now-a-days of a number of head-dresses.
Lewis XIII. mounted the throne of his glorious ancestors without a beard. Every one concluded immediately, that the courtiers, seeing their young king with a smooth chin, would look upon their own as too rough. The conjecture proved right, for they presently reduced their beards to whiskers, and a small tuft of hair under the nether lip.
The people at first would not follow this dangerous example. The duke of Sully never would adopt this effeminate custom. This man, great both as a general and a minister, was likewise so in his retirement: he had the courage to keep his long beard and to appear with it at the court of Lewis XIII. where he was called to give his advice in an affair of importance. The young crop-bearded courtiers laughed at the sight of his grave look and old fashioned phyz. The duke, nettled at the affront put on his fine beard, said to the king: “Sir, when your father, of glorious memory, did me the honour to consult me on his great and important affairs, the first thing he did was to send away all the buffoons and stage-dancers of his court.”
The tuft of hair under the nether lip insensibly diminished, and at length entirely disappeared. This resolution caused much grief; several complained bitterly, and obstinately resolved not to follow the new mode. Le Mercure of that period bears honourable testimony of the esteem in which the long beards were held, even after their disgrace. The following sort of funeral elogy is taken from that work: “The beard, which is natural only to man, is the mark of his virility, and gives him precedency among his species; ’tis this token of manhood which adds a dignity to his features, and gives him an air of gravity and modesty, which makes him look full of wisdom.”[[21]]