As smooth it was as it were newe shave, &c.”
Henry VIII, as you may still see on many sign boards, for which his bluff, bloated face is so well adapted, had his Beard close clipped. Once he swore to Francis the 1st that he would never cut it till he had visited the latter, who swore the same; and when long Beards had become the fashion at the French Court, Sir Thomas Bulleyn was obliged to excuse Henry’s bad faith, by alleging that the Queen of England felt an insuperable antipathy to a bushy chin, which, from the known considerate conduct of Henry to his wives, must have been a very plausible plea! Sir T. Moore shaved previous to his imprisonment. His Beard being then allowed to grow, he conceived such an affection for it, that before he laid his head on the block he carefully put it on one side, remarking “that it at least was guiltless of treason, and ought not to be punished.”
Although Francis I, and his Court, cherished their Beards, the Chancellor Duprat advised the imposition of a tax on the Beards of the clergy, and promised the king a handsome revenue. The bishops and wealthier clergy paid the tax and saved their Beards; but the poorer ministers were not so fortunate. In the succeeding reign, the clergy determined on revenge; so when Duprat (son of the Chancellor) was returning in triumph from the council of Trent, to take possession of the bishopric of Claremont, the dean and canons closed the brass gates of the chancel, through which they were seen armed with shears and razor, soap and basin, and pointing to the statutes, “de radendis barbis.” Notwithstanding his remonstrances, they refused to induct him unless he sacrificed his Beard, which was the handsomest of his time. He is said to have retired to his castle, and died of vexation.
In the same reign, John de Morillers was also objected to by the Chapter of Orleans; but the cunning fellow produced a letter from the king stating, that the statutes must be dispensed with in his case, as his majesty intended to employ him in countries where he could not appear without a Beard.
At the court of the rival of Francis, Charles the 5th, who had himself a right royal covering to his chin, lived John Mayo, his painter, a very tall man, but with a Beard so long, that he could stand upon it; and in which he took much pride, suspending it by ribbons to his button-hole. Sometimes this mass of hair, by command of the Emperor, was unfastened at table, and doors and windows being thrown open, the imperial mind took intense delight in seeing it blown into the faces of his grimacing courtiers. Another noted German Beard was that of a merchant of Braunau in Bavaria, which was so long, that it would have draggled on the ground, had it not been incased by its proud owner in a beautiful velvet bag.[[26]]
The promising Edward the 6th died before his Beard developed; his sister Mary’s husband had one of the true Spanish cut.
In the time of “good Queen Bess,” when
“The grave Lord Chancellor[[27]] led the dance,
And seal and mace tripped down before him,”
she, who was no prude, and had a right royal sympathy with every thing manly and becoming, surrounded herself with men, who to the most punctilious courtesy, joined the most adventurous spirit; and the Beard, as might have been expected, grew and flourished mightily. Hence we are not surprised at the wonderful efforts made by her subjects in arms, and arts, and literature, so as to make her reign an era to which we look back with patriotic pride, and from which our best writers still draw as from a well of deep perennial flow.[[28]]