and that their patron saint St. Nicholas would not be able to protect his beloved Russians, unless they consented to distinguish themselves by removing their Beards! You see how stale are the Czar's late tricks! Convinced by this pious fraud, the credulous soldiers obeyed the imperial mandate. The next war, however, was against the Swedes, and the soldiers, who had suffered severely from shaving, turned the tables upon the priests, and said, "the Swedes have no Beards, we must therefore let ours grow again, lest, as you say, the holy Nicholas should not know us!"
It is a note-worthy historical fact, which shews the danger arising from discarding the natural for the artificial, that as Beards died out, false hair came in. A mountain of womanish curls rested on the head, and was made to fall in effeminate ringlets over neck and shoulders, while the whole face was kept as smooth, and smug, and characterless as razor could make it. This renders it so disagreeable a task to look through a series of Kneller's portraits, who, clever as he was, could not impart the freedom and vigour of nature to this absurd fashion. A portrait of Addison,[1] was shewn as an illustration, because, as has been seen, though he complied with the mode, he was
- ↑ I cannot refrain from alluding in a note to a curious fact. On the day this Lecture was given, a little boy was brought to look at the portraits just after they were hung. I said to him, "Edward, which face do you like best?" He instantly touched the portrait of Addison, and said, "that's the best woman," and "that's the best man!" pointing to the well-bearded face of Leonardo di Vinci.
