At court, among the great, etiquette reigns despotically; and its power diminishes according to the distance from the centre of sovereignty. The unambitious man, living at his ease on a moderate fortune, has only a sufficient acquaintance with etiquette to turn it into ridicule; while the man who aims at consideration, or any kind of power, submits to its laws, and often sacrifices his reason to it. There are several states of life in which etiquette gives a consequence to him who follows it. A tradesman, for instance, to appear as he ought, should have his head shaved and wear a round wig; physicians and surgeons too should do the same. Who, in this enlightened age, would put the least confidence in a physician who wears his own hair, were it the finest in the world? A wig, certainly, can’t give him science, but it gives him the appearance, and that is every thing now-a-days.[6] Footnote 6: Strip a physician of his wig, gold headed cane, ruffles, and diamond ring: what will he have left? Fashion, while it vivifies commerce, encourages luxury. These are the two sides on which it should be politically viewed; it brings together the different conditions of society, which birth or opinion had separated. This is a moral good perhaps; but it confounds ranks, (which common honesty is interested in distinguishing,) by not leaving the smallest difference between a woman of virtue and a frail sister. In days of yore these two conditions so very different were kept distinct by sumptuary laws. In 1420, prostitutes were forbidden, by a sentence of the parliament of Paris, to wear gold girdles, which was the characteristical ornament of good morals. I’m led to think, it would be impossible now-a-days to put such a law into execution, because it is as difficult to distinguish a virtuous woman, by her manner, from a frail sister, as to draw a just line of demarcation between two states. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAP. II. _Of BEARDED CHINS._ WHEN I take a review of the most respectable relations of antiquity, of those celebrated heroes, and the number of wise and learned men that have made Rome and Greece famous, I feel myself penetrated with that admiration and respect which things sacred inspire; but when I figure to myself the noble aspect of these great men, when I perceive on their venerable faces that air of gravity, that character of virtues, which their long beards express, my imagination catches fire; they no longer appear to me as men, but Gods to whom we should bow down. Such is the marvellous effect which this ornament of manhood has produced in all ages. Even now, that our effeminate customs so justly paint the faculties of our souls, the sight of a long beard still commands respect.[7] Footnote 7: