Beauty Culture

Front matter

Beauty Culture

BY H. ELLEN BROWNING

LONDON 34 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. 1898

Chapter 1

The earth is always beautiful—always."

—Richard Jefferies.

I am the spirit of the harmless earth. God spake me softly out among the stars, As softly as a blessing of much worth; And then his smile did follow unawares, That all things fashioned so, for use or duty, Might shine anointed with his chrism of beauty."

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

The science of beauty—but, is there such a thing? Undoubtedly. The more closely we study the laws that hold sway throughout the universe, the more deeply we are able to realise this fact, and the better we are able to comprehend that the whole science of beauty has been embodied for us in its creation. Beauty has so many forms, so many phases. We are so constantly seeing it all around us in what, for want of a better name, we call Nature, that we have forgotten to seek out its source in order to classify it and call it a science. Still, it is there, whatever we may choose to call it. Beauty of tone, of colour, of form, of movement, are each and all of them the result of certain fixed scientific laws, the principles of which are beyond us. We are all so ignorant when it comes to any real knowledge—even the wisest amongst us—we can only gather up a crumb of knowledge here or there, and try to utilise it for the benefit of ourselves and others. From the sublime harmonies of the ever-restless ocean, the glorious colour-schemes of the Aurora Borealis, the awesome majesty of snow-capped heights and black bottomless abysses to the weird clammy mystery of a London fog, we may range up and down the gamut of our daily experiences and find that this same science of beauty pervades them all, if we do but possess the eyes that see and the ears that hear and the spirit that understandeth.

In his two "Dialogues on Beauty," Plato tells us that it consists in proportion and symmetry; Cicero thought that the science of beauty was uniformity and agreement; St. Augustine resolves the question of beauty into truth and unity; Crouzas expands it into variety, unity, regularity, order and proportion; Hogarth, in his celebrated "Analysis of Beauty," refers it all to waving lines and intricacy of design; Hutcheson explains it as utility, uniformity, and variety; Burke considered it as being something that is little, smooth, delicate, and easily-injured; and Sir Joshua Reynolds decided that it lay in "ordinary, everyday, commonplace life;" Akenside and Addison, on the contrary, referred it to a special internal sense which discovered beauty as the eye sees light; and in our own day Richard Jefferies seems to have held the same tenets, for he says: "He who has got the sense of beauty in his eye can find it in things as they really are. Idealise to the full, but idealise the real, else the picture is a sham."

"Ah! the pity of it, the pity of it!" we are led to exclaim involuntarily, as we gaze upon the great mass of human beings, for the majority of whom this sublime science has neither voice nor meaning, whose eyes are blinded, whose ears are deafened, whose hearts are narrowed, whose souls are wingless.

For long, long ages, the forces of Nature have been vainly trying to teach every one of us the greatness and grandeur of this science. We are always asking for the reason of Creation. We do not seem able to realise that the answer is there, and an all-sufficient answer, too.

"And God saw all that he had made, and behold it was very good."

God, the Creator, Nature, the First Cause,—let us call it what you will,—the fact remains the same, the whole universe was created, not spasmodically, or casually, but according to certain fixed scientific principles recognised to-day. The result of this system was perfect beauty; and the latest, the very latest, link in this chain of evolution was woman.

Is it not a passion for the beautiful that fills the artist-soul with wondrous conceptions, exquisite harmonies of sound, marvellous pictures, stupendous sculptures, poems in wood and stone?—concep- tions, too, that are rarely capable of portrayal as they were conceived. We are so unable to express ourselves adequately, because the science of beauty is still so much in its infancy. We can only muse with a feeling that is half despair, even upon our best efforts, and hope that sympathetic souls may find there the beauty we have humbly tried our little best to embody for them.

Is it not equally a nameless, instinctive love of beauty, a longing for the ethical perfection of goodness and purity, that gives us our saints, our martyrs, our reformers; our General Gordons and our Florence Nightingales, our Joan of Arcs and our Bishop Pattersons?

The "beauty of holiness" is no mere phrase. It is part of the original science that created the world, and it is as much a reality as is the manly form of a Greek god, or the superb tenderness in the face of a Venus Genetrix.

Moreover, it is this same instinctive feeling for the science of creation that has evolved for us every great poet, every great writer, in every language and in every clime, so that "the beauty of intellect," too, is an actual factor in the history of the world. Indeed, we need only glance cursorily back to the very earliest times in order to see that it is just this faith in the beautiful that has always lain at the base of all that is noble, true, and happy. It has been sung, and preached, and painted, and sculptured, and thought, and felt, and dreamt of, and longed for, and striven after, ever since the world began, and it is only when we have at last attained to a perfect and complete knowledge of this science of beauty that the millennium of bliss will ever break upon us, either here or—there.

This end-of-a-century is a period of decadence, we are being told continually. If this be so, there must be a reason for it. Every effect must naturally have its cause, and that cause is not far to seek, it lies primarily in the degenerate health of the world at large. When the national taste in art and literature becomes debased, it becomes so because the physical condition of the nation is declining, because the healthful instincts of the mind are being obliterated by the morbid action of a vitiated nervous system. It has always been so, as a matter of fact, and facts are stubborn things to deal with. Browning puts this close union of the moral and physical frequently before us in many of his poems. "Body and soul are one thing with two names," he cries, in "Red Cotton Nightcap." We need only glance backwards over the history of the world to see this. The gradual loss of physical health, moral rectitude, artistic preeminence and political supremacy have almost always been co-incident. The degeneration of muscular perfection and nervous strength went on side by side with the fall of lofty ideals and the decadence of art, leaving behind them inertness, self-indulgence, and a taste for sensuality,—ruin, moral, mental, and physical, being the natural result. "Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms," one section of the world seems to say. They deny strenuously that unison of the dual personality of the human being (particularly feminine human beings), and explain to us that "body is not soul, but just soul's servant." Then there is, on the contrary, another section, who assert quite as hotly, and quite as strenuously, the sentiment expressed so forcibly by the same poet in another of his works—"Soul"—accept a word which vaguely means—

>> "What No adept in word-use fits and fixes."

To this class of thinkers I am tempted to reply in the words of a prose poet: "The pebble-stone (in my palm) tells me that I am a soul because I am not that, that touches the nerves of my hand." But is not the just mean to be found between these two opinions? Until we have freed the body from weakness and weariness, can we ever expect the soul to drink in the spirit of the earth and sea, the soul of the sun, which the same Richard Jefferies, that great apostle of the beautiful, speaks of? I am beginning to feel as he felt. "There is so much to unlearn in life. It wastes so much time to take off peel after peel, and so get by degrees slowly towards the truth."

"The health and well-being of a nation lies altogether in the hands of its women," is the stock-phrase of many nineteenth-century Adams. This is a great truth, but scarcely a whole truth, for are not the men of a nation the fathers of their daughters as well as the fathers of their sons? Does not Nature bestow inherited tendencies upon the girl-child as often as upon the boy-child? We cannot gather grapes from thorns nor figs from thistles.

Neither by flood nor field, by forest or fell, by mountain or valley, by town or village, in man or bird, or beast, or fruit, or flower, do we ever find imperfection bringing forth perfection. Vice begets disease and pessimism, who, in their turn, become the parents of other vices, and so the ball rolls on for ever, further and further away from that noble standard of healthful beauty, the science of which lurks behind those words, penned years ago, by our late laureate. It is only a sound mind in a sound body that has power to develop amongst us:

"The love of love, the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn."

Chapter 2

If you get simple beauty and naught else, You get about the best thing God invents."

—Robert Browning.

Hold in high poetic duty Truest truth the fairest beauty."

—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

The culture of beauty in the abstract is a great aim, and the culture of personal beauty is a duty that we owe not only to ourselves but also to our neighbours. We have no right to inflict anything that transgresses against the canons of beauty upon those around us, for the intrinsic value of beauty, natural or personal, lies in the pleasure it produces to the world in general. Most of us love beauty of some kind, yearning for it instinctively, and often even unconsciously.

Physical beauty seems to have been almost universal in ancient Greece, where such great attention was paid to physical culture. It meant so much to them that a Greek mother always prayed the gods to bestow physical perfection upon her children whatever else might be denied them. Beautiful statues and sweet flowers always decorated the rooms of a Greek wife, so that she might live in an atmosphere of beauty, the influence of which would be felt by her unborn child. Indeed, it was a religious duty in those days to foster beauty, for the popular phrase—καλὸγ καὶ αγαθόν—signifies that the good and the beautiful were embodied in one and the same idea.

Not the most refined and spirituelle amongst us can get away from our bodies, or do without them. They may be only "the envelope of the soul," but is that any reason why we should permit that envelope to be of inferior quality? Is it not, on the contrary, the most potent reason why we should perfect it as much as lies in our power, externally and internally too?

What is beauty? I hear someone exclaim. This is a difficult question to answer. It is such a comprehensive term; it means so much, or—so little. One woman's face and figure may be fashioned according to all the canons of beauty, and yet she may not be beautiful; whilst another, whose features are positively plain, may yet be enveloped constantly in "an atmosphere of beauty," emanating from no visible source. Some people will tell you that beauty, like morality, is all a mere question of geography; and, to a certain extent, this opinion holds good. In the "Descent of Man" Darwin tells us: "Beauty seems to some people a very pronounced form of whatever type of feature or hue we are most accustomed to; in short, the exaggeration of characteristic peculiarities." The inhabitants of Cochin-China consider us frankly hideous with our front teeth unextracted and white "like a dog's," our unslit lips, and our "rosy colour like that of potato-flowers." In the northern parts of the Chinese empire the ideal of every woman is to possess "a flat face, high cheek-bones, a very broad nose, and enormous ears." Hearne, who lived a long time amongst the American Indians, tells us: "Ask a Northern Indian what is beauty, and he will answer—a broad flat face, small eyes, high cheekbones, a low forehead, a large broad chin, a clumsy hook nose, a tawny hide, and breasts hanging down to the belt." The Siamese, on the contrary, admire "small noses with divergent nostrils, big mouths with thick lips, high, broad cheek-bones," and what we may perhaps call a "generally moon-faced" style. Making due allowance, however, for difference of taste, amongst the civilised nations of the world, the highest ideal of physical beauty, broadly speaking, may, however, be said to lie in a combination of due proportion, symmetry, colour, and expression. Want of beauty always "handicaps" a woman, whatever her vocation in life may be, therefore it is a mistake to look upon the possession of it as "a snare and a delusion." The more we cultivate the graces of the person, as well as the graces of the mind, the more likelihood there is of our getting what we desire in life and—keeping it, too. Knowledge is power undoubtedly; but knowledge alone is a very one-sided sort of power. If we are to be all-powerful, we must combine personal attractiveness with culture of mind and largeness of soul; consequently, it behoves us to go in just as strongly for physical culture as for mental and æsthetic development. We cannot all be "beauties," but we can all possess beauty in some of its forms. Beauty means so many things, and there are so many adventitious aids to it, that no woman living need be deficient, if she has even a small modicum of commonsense. I should like to see a period of universal beauty reigning supreme throughout the world, and this is why it seems to me to be every woman's bounden duty to do all she can, individually, to smooth over and eradicate as far as possible her own natural deficiencies, and procure for herself, by ordinary care, a proportion of that inestimable quality, which has been struggled for and died for from time immemorial, and will go on being struggled for and died for to the end of time.

A man who is held to be an authority on the subject of feminine beauty writes, in a recent number of a magazine: "In feminine charm, more than in anything else perhaps, we must not raise the question of taste, and—Heaven defend that writer who would dare to say that any one woman was the most beautiful of her sisters, or who would dare to attempt to analyse or defend his position in comparing these beauties." This is exactly what I contend. There are so many phases of beauty that it is useless trying to enumerate or describe wherein exactly beauty lies:

'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all."

If we analyse very closely, however, we shall find that a woman's greatest attraction lies in her femininity. Far above symmetry of form or the most perfect features must certainly be placed that wonderful and mysterious psycho-physical quality of personal magnetism, which, for lack of a better definition, we will designate as soul-beauty. This atmosphere of fascination often emanates from women who are totally devoid of exterior attractions; still, the possession of this quality alone renders them so intangibly beautiful that they are well-nigh irresistible. It is this sort of woman who enthralls every man who falls under her spell. You may seek in vain to portray her charm. The beauty is indescribable, but it is nevertheless there in its most potent form.

And this is just the species of beauty that every woman may possess and retain to the last day of her life—if she chooses, because it is the outcome of a perfect nervous organisation. Only a foolish woman will consent to alter the colour of her hair and smother her delicate skin in powder and paint. It is better to be a "naked truth" than an "artful lie," more especially if we are striving to be women instead of dolls or slaves. Besides, it is neither necessary nor artistic. There is absolutely no reason why we should go down to our graves, "sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything," with "wrinkled brow, bald pate, and rheumy eyes of age, peaked chin and parchment chap," providing that we will only pay attention to our own physical condition. A sound mind in a sound body is the great secret of perpetual youth. There is nothing that robs us of our youthfulness. like ill-health, and there is no species of ill-health that turns our hair grey or ploughs deeper furrows in our brows than that tragic list of functional derangements and nervous ailments set down in medical text-books under the comprehensive heading of: Women's Diseases.

Severe moralists tell us that beauty is only skin-deep, but—is this really so? Personally, I am strongly tempted to doubt the veracity of this hoary aphorism, both from the physiological and the ethical points of view.

Think for a moment what has been the effect of feminine beauty on the history of the world, its importance in everyday life, and its all-essential value in the realms of art! No, no; beauty is not "only skin-deep," although there is undoubtedly much beauty in a beautiful skin; and, fortunately for us, the skin is just one of those portions of the human body that we can do much to beautify by judicious treatment. Abundant vitality and warmth of blood will impart a richness of colouring and a fineness of texture that no "make-up," however artistic, can emulate. Not that I resent "make-up" from puritanical prejudices. On the contrary, I consider that vanity is a virtue every woman ought to cultivate—up to a certain point. It is our duty to make the best of ourselves physically as well as mentally and morally; but, the most skilful "make-up" is only effective at a distance, or under a veil. It is not only bad taste, but it defeats its own object by being unbeautiful.

General attractiveness is far more desirable in woman for ordinary everyday purposes than supreme beauty; moreover, this God-given gift is so rarely bestowed upon any of us that we do not need to write for those favoured few; but even the beauty of the most classic features is enhanced by vivacity of movement and expression. A marble statue is often superb in its every line, but marble does not satisfy the heart of any man. What we need, to regenerate the human race, is a vast army of flesh and blood women possessing perfect health of body and mind. Women, large-hearted and whole-souled, of fascinating personality and strong individualities; women who are willing and able to take upon themselves the responsibilities of motherhood, and people the world anew with sons and daughters buoyantly youthful from their birth, instead of the "muling, puking" infants of to-day, dowered with the heritage of "born-tiredness," who struggle up to maturity and flood the world with morbidness. How many a one is doomed to suicide, a drunkard's grave, or a convict's cell from the moment of conception! Is this common justice? Has anybody the right to people the world with maniacs and murderers, drunkards and drivellers, convicts and courtesans, pillagers and pessimists ? I cannot think so. We are for ever cavilling at the "injustice of the Almighty," at the "cynicism of the higher powers," at "life's little ironies," but do we ever realise that humanity itself is the prime factor in the matter? It is our forefathers who have been unjust to us in past generations, and it is we who are being unjust to our own children in this generation. I firmly believe that the time is not far distant when our prisons will be turned into hospitals. A time when crime will be treated as a disease, and disease will be accounted a crime; a thing to be ashamed of because it is preventible, and because it is transgressing every principle of the science of personal beauty.

Not long ago a well-known socialist leader is reported to have said in one of her speeches: "It requires at least three generations of selfish women to put the world right." At first sight that sounds very "advanced" and fin-de-siècle; but if you take the word "selfish" in its literal sense, i.e., attention to self, there is a good deal of sound sense in the remark. The majority of our sex neglect physical culture entirely. Because they know nothing of their own physiology, they are totally unable to comprehend its importance. They do not understand that the surest method of beautifying themselves is to develope each organ, and thus bring it into the best possible state for performing its part in the intricate mechanism of the human body, by feeding it properly and regularly with the right sort of food in the right quantities. It is useless trying to feed our lungs on carbon, or our brains on nitrogen, or our muscles on phosphorus. If we do not live in well-aired rooms and sleep in properly ventilated bedchambers we are partially starving the lungs and weakening the heart by depriving them of oxygen, the only food they can thrive upon, and our complexions will give the first indication of this condition of semi-starvation. A brisk constitutional daily, or a moderate "spin" on a bicycle, will do more for most complexions than any cosmetic or facial massage can possibly effect. The danger lies in overdoing these things. Each different set of muscles requires exercise, but you should always be careful to measure the amount of your exercise by the meed of your muscular power, since you cannot force either your brain or your muscles to work beyond their strength for any length of time without injurious effects to the whole system, nor yet without detracting from your own personal beauty. The more fresh air we are able to breathe, the less likely we are to suffer from anæmia, dyspepsia, or hysteria, three of the greatest foes to health and beauty; though all of them may be considered effects rather than causes, for they are generally due to an impaired circulation, either of the blood or of the nervous current, induced by various causes.

There is a right way and a wrong way to do everything, and many people ruin their own beauty by failing to realise this fact. There is a right way to walk and a wrong way to walk; a right way to stand and a wrong way to stand; a right way to sit and a wrong way to sit; a right way to eat and a wrong way to eat; a right way to breathe and a wrong way to breathe. Now, many women and girls suffer from anæmia simply because they do not know how to breathe. They are merely the victims of deficient breathing. Instead of throwing back their shoulders they droop them, which causes the chest to fall in and prevents the proper expansion of the lungs. Then the lower lobes degenerate because they are never used, the blood does not get its normal supply of oxygen, the action of the heart becomes weakened, and the nervous system loses tone in consequence. The uterine organs being kept in a state of semi-starvation, suffer too. Sometimes deficient breathing is due to tight corsets; but, what neither doctors nor divines have been able to accomplish, cycling has done—it has put tightlacing out of fashion. The age of pinched-in waists is over! Properly-made corsets that clasp, but do not coerce, the figure cannot be considered harmful, and there is certainly neither health nor beauty in "floppiness" of figure or attire. But if even the most favoured amongst us desire to be really beautiful, we must not omit to feed our nervous system adequately. "Nerves" are such terribly destructive articles. Complexion, hair, figure, amiability, and every other feminine charm soon feel their ravages. Whatever we may do, or not do, let us always take good care of our nerves; they are far too precious to be trifled with, I can assure you. Moreover, they are so "uppish"—always striving for the mastery over us. You must master them, or they will master you, and then—good-bye to beauty.

Healthy restful slumber is one of Nature's greatest beautifiers. Nerves and brain must have their due rest. Tired lines and weary shadows mar the most lovely face.

It is an excellent plan to devote ten or fifteen minutes daily to physical exercises. Five minutes' "breathing-drill," followed by ten minutes' arm and leg gymnastics, do wonders for health and beauty.

Breathing-drill should be made part of every child's education. It is quite simple. Stand upright with the arms bent, the hands clenched, and the shoulders thrown well back; then open the lips, take a deep breath, so as to expand the lungs fully to their extremities, and hold your breath in that position whilst you mentally count five; then close your lips, and allow it to escape gradually through the nostrils. Repeat this as long as you like and as often as you can; you will find the girth of your chest will increase considerably in the course of a few months, and the chances of your suffering from asthma or bronchitis will also be greatly minimised. You will get into the habit of breathing properly by degrees, and your general health will be improved by this. It is just as easy to form good habits as bad habits, and I quite agree with a well-known playwright who makes one of his characters say on the stage: "Beauty becomes a habit with a woman after she is thirty." Bring a girl up to be a beauty and she will be one. Start her in the race of life with perfect health, and in nine cases out of ten she will never find herself "handicapped" by her womanhood, for Nature never intended that our sex should handicap any of us; and nowadays particularly, when circumstances force so many women, married as well as single, out into the arena of the world, we need all the health, all the strength, all the beauty, all the purity of heart and sanity of mind that it is anyway possible to obtain. Failing these, we shall be ignominiously worsted in the fray; possessing these, we can carry all before us, so that the destiny of the world for good or ill lies truly in the dimpled, delicate hands of its womenkind, whether we are the "weaker sex" or not. Why should we take the trouble to quibble over a couple of adjectives? Adam was verily pronounced the lord of all created things, but we ought to bear in mind that this "lordship" was bestowed upon him before Eve had come into being, as the last and most perfect specimen of the Creator's handiwork. Of course, the story told in the Book of Genesis may be nothing more than a myth; we are willing to grant that, in these days of biblical research and scientific discovery; still, every myth and every legend in every country and under every clime must have some grain of truth from which to take its birth. Amongst the principal items appertaining to personal beauty are a pair of beautiful eyes. Most of us are able to do much execution (conscious and unconscious) with the eye. But before going further let us pause a moment and inquire wherein the beauty of the eye consists. Size, shape, colour, position, all contribute largely to its loveliness, but if the eye is to be lastingly beautiful it must also reflect an individual soul that is neither narrow, lifeless, nor apathetic; it must possess the frank, direct look that is neither afraid to exhibit the thoughts and emotions of its own soul nor to read and understand those of others. It is wonderful how much we are able to read from the eyes of another, and equally wonderful how much we are able to impart through our own eyes without a word being spoken on either side. But, although the great beauty of the eyes lies in their expression, they nevertheless need a certain amount of practical hygienic care since they are greatly influenced in colour, brilliancy, and expression by the physical condition of the rest of the body.

The theory that "beauty lies in the eye of the beholder" has in it, happily for most of us, a good deal of truth. We are all apt to idealise those whom we love, and to feel that they are beautiful, whether the lines of their faces and figures follow or contradict the curves of abstract beauty. There is, however, a good deal of the old Puritan prejudice still extant in England, against any "woman of character" trying to improve her looks by the aid of art. Now, this is a "crying pity," even though the pre-Raphaelite school of painters have taught us the invaluable lesson that ugliness does not exist, either in the world of art, or in the realms of nature. They have demonstrated to us, also, that a plain face may (and often does) possess "lines where beauty lingers," and where it lingers, too, far longer than in a pretty face, because those lines are the visible tokens of character, rather than the mere fleeting loveliness, which is always, more or less, dependent on youth and circumstances.