THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21997, 5 July 1933, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarek,

Other times, other manners: history records many a noble beard among th» men whose names are remembered. From Adam to Richard John Seddon those blessed with ample hirsute ornaments as regards the face have been held in respect. Says an authority:—

The bearded races of mankind have ever held the beard in high honour. It is the sign of full manhood; the lad or the eunuch is beardless, and the bearded woman is reckoned a witch, a loathsome thing to all ages. Also the beard shrinks from the profane hand; a tug at the beard is sudden pam and dishonour. The Roman senator sat like a carveu thing until the wandering Goth touched his long beard; but then he struck, athough he died for the blow. The future King

John gave deadly offence to the native chieftains, when visiting Ireland in 1185, by plucking at their flowing

beards. There is something uplifting in the thought that a time existed when a man would lay down his life for a beard.

But now, it 13 to be feared, safety razors and the fashion have done their worst. What with the impudent game of " Beaver," the preachings of the new hygienists. and the decadent fastidiousness of the woman-folk, the beard is doomed. It takes the younger generations of effete New Zealanders all their time to grow a reasonable thatch on the top of their heads, and perhaps a few bristles on the upper lip. The thought of engaging seriously and assiduously in the cultivation of picturesque chin foliage no longer has any appeal.

The beard, we regret to find, has become the butt not of warriors engaged in contests to the death, but of sporting writers and professional gladiators. How different is the report of a recent beardpulling contest in Dunedin from the highminded records in history! Perpend: Varga spat defiantly as Blake glared at him from the centre of the ring in the fifth round, and then jumped in, , and gave the enticing beard a vicious tug. Blake retaliated with some hair-

pulling. . . . This seems a pursuit for beardless boys rather than giants and aristocrats. But of course if 3000 citizens were thereby made glad. ...

It seems that one must go to the East to find beards and a proper respect for them maintained still. And even there the bearded ones are dying out: possibly the tradition with them. It will be a subject of regret to all whiskerlovers and fanciers to know that -General Nagaoka, whose famed snowy hirsute moustaehios waved bravely a* the time of the Russo-Japanese war, and have been a source of admiration to all distinguished visitors to' Japan since, recently forswore all further use of an ornament lyrically described: "In full bloom it stretched over 20 inches from tip to tip, one third as much as the General spanned from top to toe." But even Death, the ultimate reaper of beards and men, was cheated of that prize. A correspondent thus described the last rites:—

According to the Japanese law his body was . . . prepared for burial. But not his white plume, his badge of honour. To his death bed came his son and reverently clipped the moustaches away. They were bound with white silk, laid on a satin cushion in a separate casket and buried with all honour in a separate burial mound. Thus do the Japanese recognise individuality in a man.

Unfortunately English contemporary history allows no opportunity for relating similar heroic episodes, despite the close conjunction of fame and facial appendages in British intellectual circles. Thus will the bearded be reverenced when the annals of this little day come to be inscribed: — Art and Eccentricity: Augustus John. Drama and Advertising; Bernard Shaw. Finance and Elusion: Montagu

Norman. It is a short list, perhaps, but one hard to overtop by any other nation: and all but impossible to duplicate from the serried ranks of the also-famous who do not run to whiskers. And here is a question for the purveyors of depilatories, or perhaps more profitably the Freudians (whose arch-priest likewise is unshorn) to ponder, whether 'tis the beard that inspires the greatness, or the greatness that fertilises the beard.

One word more, and that of sorrow: one thought further, and that the bright hope that our word may be pondered. New Zealand is sadly lacking to-day the type of man who might add dignity to Parliament

With oyes severe and beard of forma) cut, Full of wise saws and modern Instances— There are too many prominent in the L.nd who may (who knows?) be bereaving themselves of maturity and vision and ourselves the benefit of it by thoughtless scourgings with the razor. Should not these modern he-Delilahs, remembering the bearded prophets of old, restrain the avenging matutinal blade? Beards would make new men, of them in appearance at least, and that would be something: at the worst it would render them better material for our struggling caricaturists. Is it not possible that what we need to-day in Parliament is more beard-raising and less chin-wagging?

A tale which closely concerns an animal, and so has its affinity with those recently related in these columns, and at the same time pays homage to the perseverance and tact of the maligned Service in India, comes from Mr Norman Douglas, who attributes it to diplomatic service :

A young subaltern got himself killed by a tiger, and his parents in England . . . wired to the colonel of his regiment: " send poor James home all expenses paid." After many months, after an unreasonable length of time, a gigantic coffin arrived, on opening which they were horrified to discover a dead tiger. They wired to India: "Some mistake here tiger in coffin not James." The colonel replied: "No mistake whatever tiger in coffin James in tiger."

It is a suitable addendum to the apocalyptic but incredibly persistent jingle concerning the young lady of Riga.

A conference has been held at Wellington to prevent the collapse of the New Zealand egg market. It is certainly desirable that this commodity should be prevented from falling.