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A History of Human Beauty

Arthur Marwick

Hambledon and London

London and New York
 Hambledon and London

102 Gloucester Avenue

London, NWi 8HX

175 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10010
USA

First Published 2004

ISBN i 85285 448 o

Copyright © Arthur Marwick

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyrights

reserved above, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior
written permission of both the copyright owner and
the above publisher of the book.

A description of this book is available from the

British Library and from the Library of Congress.

Typeset by Carnegie Publishing, Lancaster,

and printed in Great Britain by Cambridge University Press.
 Contents

Illustrations vii
Preface ix

1 Fascination i
2 Plato, Augustine and Mrs Astell 25
3 Kings and Concubines 49
4 Something Handsome and Cheap 71
5 Getting Married 95
6 Grandes Horizontales 119
7 The Tallest Wins 143
8 Movies 161
9 The Swinging Sixties 191
10 A Gift from the Genes 219

Notes 233
Note on Sources 259
Index 267
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 Illustrations

Plates
Between pages 84 and 85

1 Anne Boleyn
2 Henry Wriothesley
3 George Villiers
4 Nell Gwyn
5 Lord Byron
6 Emma Hamilton
7 Marie Duplessis
8 Lola Montez

Between pages 148 and 149

9 Sarah Bernhardt
10 Ellen Terry
11 La Belle Otero
12 Franklin Pearce
13 Abraham Lincoln
14 Rudolph Valentino
15 Mary Pickford
16 Greta Garbo
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 Preface

We know that people who are born into the upper class, or who are
born rich, or who are born with a particular mental set which predis-
poses them towards aiming single-mindedly at amassing power, or at
making pots of money, tend to do well in the world (become prime
ministers, or generals, or company directors). But what of those men
and women who are born beautiful - are their life chances affected
thereby? That is the question I have set out to resolve. It quickly became
clear that if my computations were to be valid ones I would need to
adopt a rigorous definition of beauty, not rolling it up with all the other
desirable qualities a person can have - such as kindness, intelligence,
humour - as is often done in ordinary conversation. To Plato and then
to the Christian Church a beautiful soul was more important than a
lovely face and shapely figure, 'beauty of mind' more important than
c
beauty of body'. What people like doing, of course, is muddling things
up together: 'he's a beautiful man' can actually mean 'he's wonderfully
kind and likeable and terrific to be with, though not actually physically
very attractive'. Such sophistries are forbidden to me — in this book
beauty is an attribute purely of the face and figure.
To begin with I accepted the conventional, though actually little
examined, view that standards of beauty change from age to age. In
human affairs much does change - ideologies and institutions, economic
and social systems, class structures, the role and status of women; my
own study of the evidence compelled me to the conclusion that, relative
to these, beauty (in the western world that I am qualified to write about)
has changed little. That is why I call it a 'relative constant', a 'relative
universal'. To be honest I am not greatly impressed by the oft-repeated
accounts of African tribes prizing fatness, South American ones lip
plates, Burmese ones necks stretched and ringed like a snake - in these
examples the admiration is for symbols of wealth and status, not beauty.
X IT

Indeed the whole subject is bedevilled by an elementary failure to

distinguish between fashion and beauty.
This book makes a fundamental distinction between what I refer to
as the 'traditional' and the 'modern' evaluation of beauty. Beautiful
human beings (men as well as women) have always been objects of fas-
cination to the less well-favoured majority but, up to the nineteenth
century and even beyond, views about beauty were deeply confused.
Status and wealth were still the major criteria upon which people were
judged; beauty was recognised, but was seen as dangerous and disrup-
tive, fomenting lust, tempting young people into socially disastrous
marriages. Beautiful women could rise in society, but only by first falling
on their backs as concubines, mistresses, courtesans, or as, in the nine-
teenth century, members of the select group known in France as
Grandes Horizontales. Beautiful women became consorts to Kings, but
seldom ever became their Queens; for that, regal status and exploitable
dynastic connections were required. There were jobs (as footmen, for
instance) for which beautiful men were particularly well qualified.
Occasionally a beautiful man could do well out of sexual services ren-
dered - where the King was gay, or where the head of the Empire was
Catherine the Great. Only in recent times has the 'modern' view of
beauty emerged. This sees beauty as a purely physical quality, embody-
ing sex appeal, but no longer having to be parlayed into actual sexual
congress; an independent characteristic whose value rivals that of status
and wealth. Everywhere today, on film, on television, in public relations,
in the whole celebrity circus, we are surrounded by evidence that good
looks can readily be converted into hard cash. How far was that true in
the past? How did we get to where we are today? In the 19805 I pub-
lished a massive and extensively illustrated tome, Beauty in History:
Society, Politics and Personal Appearance, c. 1500 to the Present. Funda-
mentalist feminism was then at its height: accordingly the book was
blasted into oblivion by reviewers (not all female) who decided in
advance that mine was the sort of book which imposes standards of
beauty on women in order to oppress them, without pausing to read
that what I was actually saying was that women are fully entitled to
judge men by their looks in exactly the way that men have always judged
women. It: A History of Human Beauty is a shorter, better and different
book, drawing, however, upon research and reflection spread over a
 PREFACE XI

quarter of a century. As such, it owes much to the help I have received

from curators, archivists and librarians, and the advice given by
colleagues and friends.
First, I must single out Tony Coulson who, till his tragically early
death, was Media Librarian at the Open University. Tony went far
beyond the call of professional duty in tracing reproductions back to
their original sources, in acquiring slides for me, and in guiding me
through the morasses of attribution and misattribution. At the Hoover
Institution Archives, California, Director Elena Danielson, together with
her assistants, provided perfect service to a researcher on a most
abstruse topic. In the Special Collections and University Archives of the
Stanford University Libraries I also received immaculate service from
Carol Rudisell, Sara Timby, Margaret J. Kimball and all the staff work-
ing there. Coming nearer home I must record with thanks the special
assistance of lack and Ann Flavell at the Bodleian Library, Geoffrey
Marsh at the Museum of London, and lohn lacob of Kenwood House.
Among many academic colleagues I would particularly like to thank
Professors Anne Lawrence of the Open University, Marc Ferro and
Pierre Sorlin of Paris, and Dan Leab of New York; and also Agnes
Petersen of the Hoover Institution.
Copyright holders have been generous in allowing me to make use of
copyright material. I am grateful to Lord and Lady Monson for a letter
from the sixth Baron to his son in the Monson Papers in the Lincoln
County Record Office; to Mrs J. E. Nurse of Tunbridge Wells for an
extract from the 'Memorial of James Howard of Manchester (1738 to
1822) by his daughter Rachel Barrow (1789 to 1870)'; to Patricia Ander-
son Liedke for the Melville Anderson and Charlena Van Vleeck material
in the Anderson Papers in the Department of Special Collections and
University Archives, the Stanford University Libraries; to Evelyn F. Gar-
diner and Janet Nicoleau for the Mary Hallock Foote Papers in the same
department. I should like to thank the Hoover Institution, Stanford, for
making it possible for me to use a number of important collections
(listed in my sources) and the National Library of Scotland for the James
Gall journal and the Robert Graham diaries. I have made strenuous
efforts to trace all copyright holders. If in any instance I have failed to
make due acknowledgement I shall be glad to put the matter right as
quickly as possible.
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 1

Fascination

As every doctor knows, people habitually overstate how often they're

having sex while understating how much alcohol they drink. But of all
human attributes, the one over which there is most dishonesty, most
persistent refusal to face the facts, most doublethink, is physical appear-
ance. Much of this, of course, is in the cause of common civility and
decency: far kinder to pour out the balm of gentle flattery than to fling
the corrosive acid of honest judgement on, say, a pudgy nose, piggy eyes,
and a receding chin, or a face and figure (I am speaking of males as well
as females) which are nondescript, plain and utterly devoid of allure.
Civilisation has always depended upon the observance of certain polite
fictions, and nowhere is there a richer growth of such fictions than in
regard to questions of human beauty. Partly this is because of the spe-
cial resonances, and special ambiguities, of the very concept of'beauty';
partly, it is because personal appearance is intimately bound up with the
sense of self-worth, and, more critically, with sexuality, sexual attrac-
tiveness and sexual success. Look up the thousands of tomes and
treatises on 'beauty' and you'll find that most of them deal with moral
or aesthetic beauty, often representing the two as being inextricably
intertwined, very few descending to the mundane topic of the physical
appearance of human beings. This is because the eternal quest has been
for a universal concept of beauty, one which will cover poems, paint-
ings, symphonies, statues, sunsets and seascapes (natural and imagined),
beautiful bodies and beautiful minds.
'Beauty' is itself such a 'beautiful' concept that the conviction is that
it must connote something transcendental, something beyond human
affairs, such as truth, purity, godliness, spirituality, 'the good' to the
utmost degree. Outstanding physical beauty (in both males and
females), the less privileged of us cannot help noting, offers its posses-
sors sexual opportunity aplenty, and thus hints at promiscuity, lust and
2 IT

carnal gluttony — indulgences incompatible with any ratified notions of

the meaning of beauty. For someone to be 'truly beautiful', the impli-
cation is, they must possess some moral or spiritual qualities beyond
being 'merely beautiful'. They must be irradiated by, as it is often put,
an 'inner light' - for 'beauty', as the oft-repeated, but seldom-examined
cliche has it, 'is more than skin deep'. One might actually say of some-
one, 'He's a beautiful person, even though he's not very good-looking'.
Yet while much lip service is paid to the notion of the transcendental
quality of beauty, the overwhelming evidence is that in our everyday
lives we are actually obsessed by surface appearance, those enjoying
great natural beauty always attracting special attention, sometimes ado-
ration, sometimes hatred, there being frequent laments about the unfair
advantages enjoyed by the comely and the cruel penalties imposed on
the ugly. One much-quoted version of the transcendental concept of
beauty was coined by the poet Keats, and represented as being expressed
by the Grecian urn itself (the very quintessence of pure aesthetic
beauty), in the last stanza of 'Ode on a Grecian Urn':
Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

In fact Keats was obsessed with the entirely carnal beauty of his fiancee,
Fanny Brawne, somewhat to her annoyance. In a famous response to
her protestations, he makes a forceful case for the importance of beauty
as a merely physical quality (no high-blown stuff about 'truth' here!):
Why may I not speak of your Beauty, since without that I could never have
love'd you? I cannot conceive any beginning of such love as I have for you
but Beauty. There may be the sort of love for which, without the least
sneer at it, I have the highest respect and can admire it in others: but it
has not the richness, the bloom, the full form, the enchantment of love
after my own heart.1
The dishonesty and doublethink arise from our perfectly under-
standable desires to believe several different things simultaneously,
together with the way in which the topic of beauty is encrusted both in
age-old myths and our own strongly held personal feelings. Thinking
straight on beauty is one of the most difficult tasks encountered by
human beings. The most common circle of self-deception starts from
the honest perception, 'I am not beautiful in the way that the television
 FASCINATION 3

presenters, the models, the film stars I see all the time are beautiful', pro-
ceeds to the self-reassurance, 'But I do have qualities of intelligence and
understanding, or charm and sympathy, or humour and sparkle, or ...'
(fill it in accordance with your own personal conviction about what
makes you attractive and desirable to others)... and concludes, 'So actu-
ally I am beautiful' - and, because what everyone really wants (despite
the transcendentalism) is to be accounted physically beautiful, the moral
qualities of intelligence and understanding, charm and sparkle, or what-
ever, are, in the manner of the medieval alchemist (and with as much
genuine success) transmuted into physical beauty. Then there are those
who, while self-aware about their own appearance, are convinced they
are capable of divining the 'inner light' in others which alone confers
'true beauty' and which, of course, excludes everyone they detest, annoy-
ing personal acquaintances or bumptious celebrities. Some commenta-
tors claim to be able to detect in a person's appearance the indications
of 'character' which, they maintain, alone give substance to true beauty,
as distinct from a merely decorative vacuity. Myth, prejudice, hyper-
intellectual fastidiousness and, above all, the failure to recognise that
(perfectly legitimately) the word 'beautiful' is used in a number of dis-
tinctively different ways, account for our muddled thoughts on the topic
of human beauty: we constantly slither from one meaning to another, so
that moral beauty is passed off as physical beauty, or a physically beau-
tiful person you don't happen to like or are jealous of, is denied the
attribute of'beauty'. In magazines and guides we find the word 'beauty'
being used in yet another different way, to signify the preoccupation
with making the most of our appearance through the use of powder and
paint, hairstyling, 'beauty' aids, fashionable attire and, increasingly,
cosmetic surgery; to mean, in fact, 'self-presentation', or 'grooming'.
Heavy investment in self-presentation, in the simulation of beauty,
comes to be passed off as beauty itself.
What I am doing is conducting a unique investigation: what part,
historically, has personal appearance played in people's lives, in their
successes and in their failures, in their own destinies, and, where I am
dealing with monarchs and politicians, in the destinies of others, or,
where I am dealing with humbler people, in opportunities for wealth
and social advancement, whether through career, or marriage, or
both? If my conclusions are to be of any value, I must be punctilious in
4 IT

singling out physical appearance, beauty of face and figure, from all the
other qualities with which these are customarily run together. I must
take great pains to pin down what people actually did look like and not
be content with the usual conventional, but often wildly inaccurate,
formulae, which, the more one reads the biographies of those tradition-
ally held to be comely, one finds simply to be handed down from one
author to another. Over the years, historians have expatiated on the
power conferred upon individuals through being born to high status or
great wealth; they have analysed the kinds of psyche which make for a
Washington, a Napoleon, or a Churchill; recently some have suggested
that the vital ingredient for exercising power in 'the professional soci-
ety' is education.2 Talents and gifts are unequally distributed. Strength
of will, physical courage, a mighty intellect, personal charisma, the gift
of the gab: these are personal qualities which may give certain individ-
uals advantages over others. Despite all the confusion and doublethink,
it has, in reality, never gone unnoticed that a rather small number of
individuals enjoy great natural beauty, while the vast majority do not; it
also being observed that a fair number can be accounted personable,
with many others being positively plain or ugly. From comments fre-
quently made, it would seem that these differences do matter. But in
exactly what way, or ways, has never been systematically established -
apart from earlier work of my own.3 My present task is to pin down the
nature and extent of the power exercised, in the past, and on into
the present, by personal physical beauty; and also to assess the signifi-
cance of being personable as against being plain or ugly - in all cases
examining both the public and private spheres. If I am to do that, I have
to isolate personal, physical, surface beauty from all other possible types
of beauty. And I will have to use all the sources available, visual and
written, to establish what the people I am discussing really did look like.
It will be no good saying of a certain duchess that she exercised great
power because of her beauty if in fact her power was really due to the
status and wealth she already possessed, and the description 'beautiful'
was simply flattery induced by that same status and wealth.
The first two things we have to do are these: first, distinguish between
'beauty' and 'fashion'; and, secondly, disabuse ourselves of any idea that
there is one single type of beauty - the most common candidate is the
so-called 'Greek ideal of beauty', when, actually, if we forget myth and
 FASCINATION 5

ideology, we can see that very many of those who have been accounted
beautiful have nothing 'Greek' about them. Fashion is an integral part
of human life. Those who wish to find greatest acceptance in society, to
pass with least adverse comment, take care to dress, to style their hair,
their beards, their wigs, their make-up, in accordance with current fash-
ion; those who are out of fashion will always seem slightly odd, uneasily
out of place. Fashion has been attacked, through the ages, by men for
allegedly permitting plain women to pass themselves off as beautiful,
and, more recently, by feminists for allegedly confirming women's role
as sex objects. In the first decade of the sixteenth century Sir Thomas
More was a lusty and hard-living critic of the conventions and pieties of
his day: in the ideal society he envisaged in his Utopia 'natural bewtie
and comliness' were so highly prized in both men and women, as com-
pared with fashionable costume and cosmetics ('payntings') which
concealed 'the endowments of the bodye', that before marrying each
would-be spouse had to be exposed to the other completely naked:
in cheusing wyfes and husbandes they observe earnestly and strayetely a
custome whiche seemed to us very fonde and folysh. For a sad and hon-
est matrone sheweth the woman, be she maide or widdowe, naked to the
wowere. And likewise a sage and discrete man exhibyteth the wowere
naked to the woman.4

It is absolutely clear from the context, incidentally, that More was

not concerned with some kind of medical inspection (as distinct from
an erotic one). The nineteenth-century American music critic and
Darwinian philosopher, Henry Theophilus Finck, declared fashion
'the hand-maid of ugliness', arguing that it was a device of the ugly
majority for compelling the beautiful minority to conceal their charms.5
The most elaborate expression of this profoundly misogynous senti-
ment came from the French scholar Marcel Braunschvig, in his Women
and Beauty, published in 1919. Fashion, he said, substitutes a false
conception of beauty for the real thing:
In the eyes of many beauty is confused with elegance, which is simply con-
formity to the latest demands of fashion. From this many aberrations in
taste follow: luxurious grooming leads an ugly woman to be judged beau-
tiful, while the beauty of a woman wearing an unfashionable costume
passes unnoticed. Dress has constituted a beauty by conventions which
6 IT

often supersede true beauty. The majority of women believe that this is to
their advantage; for, lacking true beauty, so rare, a woman always has the
money to procure the beauty that can be bought.6
Almost the whole of chapter two of volume two of Simone de Beauvoir's
The Second Sex, the bible of post-war feminism, is taken up with fash-
ion and cosmetics, representing them as integral to the oppression of
women. Yet there is one sentence which suggests what the true signifi-
cance of making up and dressing up may be to a woman: 'to care for
her beauty, to dress up, is a kind of work that enables her to take pos-
session of her person, as she takes possession of her home through
housework, her persona then seems chosen and created by herself'.7 For
myself, I am in no way critical of fashion or of the use of cosmetics, both
of which I see as a normal part of human life as it has evolved from the
earliest times. My sole points are that, in an investigation such as this,
fashion must be distinguished from natural beauty, and 'beauty' of the
women's magazines, that is self-presentation, must be distinguished
from natural endowment. Elegance and good taste are undoubtedly
admirable qualities, but they are simply not the same thing as physical
beauty, and truly sharp eyes will not mistake them for such.
From portrayals of Queen Elizabeth I, both in film and television
productions and in portraits painted at the time, from paintings by
Piero della Francesca and his contemporaries, we are familiar with the
fact that in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries it was fashionable for
women to shave their foreheads. But this did not mean that a shaven
forehead was in itself an indicator of beauty: a beautiful woman with
a shaven forehead was beautiful; an ugly woman with a shaven fore-
head was not. Since the 19608, extremely slim female figures have been
in fashion. But the contention that fashion model Twiggy was beauti-
ful only because fashion decreed skinniness to be beautiful is utterly
absurd. In the sixties, as ever, there were very many skinny women who
were not in the least beautiful. Twiggy was beautiful because her fig-
ure was perfectly proportioned and because she had an astoundingly
lovely face. For much of the nineteenth century, it was not fashionable
to be red-haired, since red hair was associated with freckles, taken to
be a blemish on perfect beauty. However, a normal lusty young man,
in this case nineteen-year-old Englishman, James Salter of Tolleshunt
D'Arcy, attending the Lewes ball in December 1859, while affected by
 FASCINATION 7

the fashionable prejudice was not blinded by it: 'singularly enough, I

did not see one girl pretty enough to attract or detain the eye beyond
the first glance, and another prodigy was that, of the most passable,
three red-headed girls stood first, both as regards dancing and looks'.8
Fashion, while never approving of the fat, did, in the nineteenth cen-
tury, favour the buxom. Yet our connoisseur of female beauty, Henry
Theophilus Finck, fell in love with, and married, an extraordinarily
beautiful woman (we have her photograph) with, as he commented,
'no figure worth talking about'. In her late teens, the renowned actress,
Sarah Bernhardt, still in the era when plump faces and ample bosoms
were allegedly the ideal of feminine beauty, was also slim and girlish:
that stopped no man from lusting after her astonishing beauty - and,
as we shall see, giving her a golden start in her career. Too many writ-
ers on human beauty simply make facile readings from what painters
painted or what fashion writers decreed: to see what was really beauti-
ful, as distinct from what was in fashion, we have to examine the
sentiments and reactions of flesh-and-blood beholders towards flesh-
and-blood individuals.
A recent feminist writer on female beauty found it 'curious' that the
winner of the second Miss America beauty competition, held in 1922,
'differed considerably in face and figure' from the first winner of the
competition, launched in Atlantic City in 1921.9 She had assumed, along
with all those who theorise about the 'cultural construction of reality',
that in any particular era only one style of beauty (allegedly 'con-
structed' by the dominant class in that society) is recognised. In fact,
there are always many different styles of beauty, so that there is nothing
'curious' at all about the woman selected as the most beautiful in 1922
looking different 'in face and figure' from the one chosen in 1921. The
point about a beauty competition is that everyone who enters for it has,
if they are not to cause profound embarrassment, to be beautiful
(indeed for an unambiguous fix on the beauty being discussed in this
book, a good question to ask about any individual being considered is,
'Could they, without embarrassment, enter a beauty competition?').
Who actually wins a beauty competition is not, for our investigation, of
any great significance, and an eventual winner is certainly not to be
thought of seriously as being more beautiful than the other competitors:
the boundary between beauty and absence of it is not between the
8 IT

winner and the others, but between those qualified to enter in the first
place and those not so qualified. Those qualified, it quickly becomes
apparent, 'differ considerably in face and figure'. There are many
different types of human appearance. Among the main types' to be
found in everday discourse (and associated loosely with geographic or
ethnic origins) are 'Nordic', 'Mediterranean', 'West European',
'Slavonic', 'African', 'Arabic', 'Indian', 'Oriental' - these labels are not
scientific, but their broad import will be readily apparent. In each of
these groups (and several others one could no doubt think of) there are
(a minority of) beautiful people, a proportion of personable ones, and
a majority who are nondescript, or worse. Beautiful people are the
most perfect representatives in face and figure of their own particular
type; some of the most beautiful individuals are the products of inter-
breeding between different ethnic or geographical groups: one thinks,
for instance, of mixed Chinese or Japanese and European ancestry in
California, or of mixed African and European ancestry in the former
slave-holding states. Many of us have fixations on particular physical
types and may find persons belonging to these types, even the ones less
favoured in face and figure, beautiful to the exclusion of persons of
other physical types. Apprehension of beauty is subject to much per-
sonal idiosyncracy; but the definitions of beauty deployed in this study
have to be those accepted by overwhelming majorities, not the out-
comes of specific psychological imprinting or personal prejudice. Thin,
aesthetic-looking men are not more beautiful than broad-shouldered
rugged men (though they may be to certain women with particular out-
looks and tastes); beautiful rugged men are more beautiful than ugly
thin men, and vice-versa. Blondes are not more beautiful than
brunettes; beautiful brunettes are more beautiful than ugly blondes,
and vice versa. Joanna Pitman has recently produced a fascinating study,
On Blondes10 with much on the poetry and symbolism of 'abundant
tresses' and 'women's crowning glory', particularly when these are
blond, whether natural or dyed; my study is perhaps at once earthier
and more ruthless, and I must stress that one single feature, even blond
hair, will not render a person beautiful; beauty depends upon a holistic
totality of alluring features (sometimes including just one, irresistibly,
ever so faintly out of alignment). Chekhov presented the brutal truth
when he had Sonya cry out that 'when a woman is plain, she is always
 FASCINATION 9

told "You have beautiful eyes, you have beautiful hair" ...' n To resume.
Buxom women are not intrinsically more beautiful than slim women.
Properly proportioned buxom women with beautiful faces are more
beautiful than scrawny slim women with plain faces; properly propor-
tioned slim women with beautiful faces are more beautiful than
ill-proportioned buxom women with plain faces. It's perfectly reason-
able to say in ordinary speech: CI like Italian men; they're so beautiful'.
That might well mean, 'Among the Italian men I've encountered, a
notably high proportion have been very good-looking'. One would not
actually have to live very long in Italy to appreciate that, marvellous
people as the Italians are, they have their own proportion of the plain
and the ugly.
The beauty which I am concerned with is not 'more than skin deep',
but is purely a surface quality, one which is registered on sight, and
before one has any chance to appreciate the other qualities the person
may possess. And it is not 'in the eye of the beholder'. Beauty goes far
beyond personal predeliction or fancy; it appeals to majorities', it is 'in
the eye of all beholders', or (given that the disgruntled and the idiosyn-
cratic are always with us), 'almost all beholders'. There would be no
point in studying the influence beauty has on people's lives if it were
simply a matter of personal taste or choice. Those who are beautiful for
the purposes of the enquiry conducted in this book are those who are
considered to be beautiful by an overwhelming majority of those
beholding them. Many attempts have been made to say what precise
mappings and measurements constitute beauty in human beings. None
of them work in practice (many famous beauties, it has been gleefully
reported, violate the basic measurements - that of proportion of lip to
chin, to nose, to brow, being a favourite one) and none take into
account my fundamental point about beauty coming in many different
types. Outstanding beauty registers itself immediately and announces
itself by the effects it has on beholders; we, most of us, recognise it when
we see it. Even novelists are not strikingly successful in giving meticu-
lous descriptions of individual beauty. We believe in the beauty of
Gwendolen in Daniel Deronda, or Trollope's Lizzie Greystock, or Lyon
Burke, the irresistible hunk in lacqueline Susann's Valley of the Dolls,
less through any painstaking descriptions provided by the authors than
through the accounts given of their effects on other people. Beauty is
1O IT

that entirely physical phenomenon which has a disturbing, enticing,

arousing effect on beholders.
Beauty is appreciated by (almost) all beholders, but the crude fact is
that there is never enough of it to go around. What there is will be
grabbed by the rich and the powerful. Thus if we wish to track down a
cross section of the most beautiful women from any era in the past we
should look to those chosen by the royal, the noble and the wealthy as
concubines and mistresses - that is, for pleasure, rather than for matri-
mony, companionship and the breeding of children. Evolutionary
theories which confuse physical beauty with breeding potential (and
thus absurdly equate wide hips and big bottoms with beauty) fail to
understand the lure, for those human beings in a position to achieve
their goals, of the sexual possession of a beautiful body. Beauty is an
independent quality, inextricably associated with sexual pleasure: it is
differential genetic inheritance which leads to a few people being beau-
tiful and most not, but, beyond the undisputed attraction of the
aesthetically alluring and the even stronger one of sexual gratification,
there is no need at all for evolutionary theories to account for the appeal
of beauty. To dispose of arguments which too readily became eugenicist
and racist let me state bluntly that the most beautiful is not axiomati-
cally 'the fittest'; one strives to bed a beautiful partner not (despite even
the wisdom of Shakespeare12) to improve the gene pool, but because the
outcome is in itself wondrous. If evolution really tended to the consis-
tent selection of the beautiful and the steady elimination of the plain
and the ugly, why is it that, alas, there are still plenty of the latter in
every population? The philosopher, Ellen Scarry, in a fascinating book,
manages: to associate 'beauty' in the hallowed way with 'truth' (they are
not, she says, 'identical', but 'allied', for beauty 'incites the desire for
truth');13 to find one universal beauty in 'a boy or a flower or a bird or
in a poem or a painting or a palm tree or a person'; and to insist that
beauty makes us want, equally, to beget children (if contemplating a
beautiful person) or 'the begetting of poems and laws, the works of
Homer ...' (if contemplating a beautiful object).14 This equation of cop-
ulation with artistic creation or the promulgation of legal systems is the
sort of drivel, gift-wrapped in olde worldly terms like 'begetting', with
which philosophers habitually confuse such issues as human beauty.
Edward, Prince of Wales, who succeeded to the throne as Edward VII,
 FASCINATION 11

was gross and unprepossessing, fully meriting his nickname of 'Turn-

Turn'; his mistresses, who were presented to him on a plate, were all
very beautiful (it was for that quality, of course, that they were selected).
The same truism applies to the women bedded by Louis XIV, Charles II
(he did have saturnine good looks, though whether he really needed
them in addition to his king-size sex drive is an open question), Pablo
Picasso, Benito Mussolini, Charlie Chaplin, and hundreds of other pow-
erful, or celebrated, men in many walks of life. Until very recently, there
are few analogous females: women usually had to find a husband or
'protector' to support them and were in no position to privilege the aes-
thetics of sexual pleasure. One of the few exceptions proving the rule
that where they have an unfettered choice, human beings (male or
female) choose their sexual partners from among the beautiful, is
Catherine the Great: as all-powerful empress of Russia, she did not
consort with fat old generals but with slim young guardsmen.
To sort out properly the relationship between beauty, desirability and
sexual pleasure, we must distinguish between the initiation and the con-
tinuation of a sexual relationship, and between arousal and satisfaction.
Beauty certainly creates arousal, which, of course, is essential to satis-
faction, and is the most direct non-verbal indication of the likelihood of
pleasure; in the well-known words - which we need not fully agree with
- of Stendhal (himself an ugly little man), cLa beaute n'est que la
promesse du bonheur'.15 When it comes to realisation of pleasure (sat-
isfaction), and to continuation of a relationship, then beauty, or its
absence, can become critical (does one wish to contemplate one's part-
ner, or does one bury one's head in the pillow?). All this is very well
known, which is why, as I have just been stressing, the rich and the pow-
erful, who can make choices, almost invariably have beautiful sexual
partners.
Beauty in human beings is always perceived as sexually desirable,
though everything that is sexually arousing is not necessarily beautiful.
There exist such potentially erotic qualities as (in men) height or
strength, and (in both sexes) voice, demeanour, self-presentation,
and also such physical features as chest, breasts, legs or posterior (again
both sexes). The genitals are not usually considered beautiful, though
the sight of them tends to be sexually arousing - actually it might be
more accurate to say that the genitals set within the entire context of a
12 IT

beautiful body and a beautiful face can be seen as a particularly exciting

part of the total beauty; one breast taken in isolation, or a chin and neck,
or a nose cut off from the rest of the face, or a loose pair of testicles,
would be unlikely to seem beautiful. Our notion of human beauty is our
notion of what a human being, in an increasingly recognised variety of
types, ought to look like. Given freedom from all constraints, what we
would like to unite with sexually are the most nearly perfect specimens
of our species. What we find most desirable is most beautiful; what is
beautiful we wish to possess. I believe that any analogies from the ani-
mal kingdom applied to human beings are deeply suspect, our evolution
and acculturation having proceeded over thousands of years in highly
distinctive circumstances. Despite Voltaire's famous 'Ask a toad what is
beauty he will answer that it is his female with two huge round eyes
coming out of her tiny head, large flat mouth, yellow belly and brown
back',16 and such obvious phenomena as the peacock's tail, it is unlikely
that animals have any sense of beauty. Some animals we may find par-
ticularly fetching, for example domestic cats; thus seeing elements of
feline grace in a woman may be a compliment to her appearance. But
on the whole we prefer humans to look supremely human and not
remind us of animal creation, and not, above all, of our near ancestors
the apes.17 Since Darwin's time it has been pointed out that a proper
chin and a distinctive, free-standing nose, both attributes not possessed
by animals, are absolutely essential to the notion of human beauty.18 To
these negative points (identifying indicators of ugliness rather than
beauty) can be added any characteristics suggesting impotence, infertil-
ity or, above all, mortality. In our culture, bodily and facial hair are
usually acceptable in males but not in females, probably because of these
animal and mortality taboos.
Being about beauty, this book is also about its absence. Broadly what
I have in mind is a fourfold taxonomy, but with a multitude of indi-
viduals and types who manifestly cross the boundaries (the man with
the beautiful face, but the distressingly puny body; the joli(e) laid(e) -
male as well as female; the lovely girl with the terrible legs). First, we
have the beautiful, a tiny minority: perhaps, today, around five per cent
of the male and female population between the ages of, say, sixteen and
forty in any major country (from America to China, India to Australia).
Then there are the personable, perhaps up to about a third of the same
 FASCINATION 13

population - those who definitely have some of the qualities of beauty

and who have a strong chance of doing well in the realm of self-
presentation. After that come what I shall call the ill-favoured, rather
more than half of the remaining population; these include those suffer-
ing from the ravages of ageing, and range from individuals who are
widely recognised among those who know them to possess considerable
sexual attractiveness (though, to repeat an absolutely key point, this will
not be apparent on sight to beholders), to individuals who will be
thought of as homely, to those who are termed plain, to those who are
ugly (this term, it should be clear by now, is no more being used in a
moral sense than is the term 'beautiful').
Finally there are those who suffer from some significant physical dis-
ability. To some readers this sort of taxonomy will reek of what is
sometimes called cbody fascism'. Certainly the consciousness of imper-
fections and blemishes of face and figure causes much misery, and to
dwell on them is to be cruel and oppressive. However, as already noted,
an investigation of this sort must depend, in an area traditionally beset
by polite evasions, on facing the truth. In some contexts the crucial dis-
tinction, with respect to life-chances and outcomes, is between being
personable and being definitely ill-favoured. But then, manifestly, other
qualities rather than sheer beauty will have come into the equation -
intellect, talent, grace, say - and then it will be essential to guard against
the elemental error of allowing a personable appearance together with a
particular talent or talents to be counted as beauty. There will be many
cases where success will be attributable wholly or partly to qualities
other than beauty; the crucial task is to label these correctly and not
somehow allow them to pass as a form of beauty.
Most studies of human beauty depend very heavily on the represen-
tations of artists and argue, say, that because Cranach painted Eve this
way, Raphael his Madonnas that way, and Titian his female figures from
Greek mythology in yet another way, this shows the manner in which
standards of beauty change from age to age and are indeed socially con-
structed. Much of the evidence, in fact, contradicts the assumption that
just because artists in any one era concentrated on one particular style
of beauty that was the only style that princes, courtiers, merchants and
all real living people in a position to make choices recognised. There is
a further problem: it is too readily assumed that every painting of a
14 IT

woman by every artist must be intended to be beautiful, and (this is

perhaps the more critical point) was widely accepted as such by a major-
ity of contemporary viewers. It is not unreasonable to assume that in
representing a powerful sitter an artist will introduce a dose of flattery
(and so may be reliable on contemporary concepts of beauty, though
not on the looks of his sitters); against that is the consideration that sit-
ters do generally desire the portraits to present credible likenesses. At the
very least, before reading off from a painting conclusions about con-
cepts of beauty, we have to have information both on the artist's
intentions and on contemporary reactions. I have already mentioned
the difficulties novelists face in describing a beautiful individual: given
that at the heart of human beauty lies the element of sexual appeal, it is
not necessarily easy for painting, essentially a static art form, still less for
sculpture, with its coldness, hardness and lack of colour variations, to
render that beauty.
Artists in past centuries were often concerned to render such quali-
ties as holiness or spirituality, nobility and dignity. It is profoundly
significant that Botticelli was in his own day, and has been since, one of
the most controversial of all painters of women. His women have a
stunning beauty which exudes sexiness and speaks directly to us today.
Some of Botticelli's paintings were burned by the pietistic monk
Savonarola, undoubtedly because of the deeply disturbing allure of the
women represented; learned scholars in the nineteenth century, made
uncomfortable by these same representations of women, argued that
the models were in fact tubercular - a complaint also raised against the
women represented in Pre-Raphaelite paintings, who projected a simi-
lar sexuality.19 The eighteenth-century English portrait painter Sir
Joshua Reynolds aimed at a consciously dignified style with even his
most beautiful female subjects. They tend, therefore, to lack sensuality;
however, we can get a very clear sense of one uninhibited notion of
beauty of the time from Reynolds's renderings of such abstractions as
'Theory' and 'Justice' - again they speak directly to us, as the universal
quality of sexual beauty always must, and demonstrate that there was
not a particular eighteenth-century canon of beauty monopolising the
academic art of the time. Universal but not uniform: that is what I am
saying about beauty. The range of types recognised today is great; it was
more restricted in earlier more convention-bound eras. In some periods
 FASCINATION 15

some types of beauty were less fashionable than others. At no time can
perceptions of beauty be totally extricated from taboos and shibboleths,
from fashion and convention; but the social and cultural inflections are
minor compared with the fundamentals of beauty. It has become unex-
amined dogma that such qualities as beauty (and everything else!) are
entirely relative, are 'culturally constructed', this dogma being derived
from Marxism and being fortified by post-modernism and certain
brands of feminism. But if we abandon dogma (and Marxism and post-
modernism are simply belief systems bolstered by faith alone which we
have absolutely no obligation to accept)20 and focus instead on the kind
of evidence I am examining here, we may well accept that, granting
minor variations in emphasis, concepts of beauty throughout the his-
tory of western societies are basically unchanging. We have the paintings
of Botticelli, of Reynolds, of the Pre-Raphaelites, of Greuze, of number-
less other artists. For Greek ideas of beauty we are very largely
dependent, as it happens, on Roman copies of Greek statues, with a few
well-known Greek originals, all backed up by a certain amount of writ-
ten material. For Roman concepts of female beauty we do have plenty
of paintings (there is a fine collection in the Vatican), demonstrating
that the Romans admired many of the types of beauty that we admire
today. I am a historian, and so am very conscious that over time, and in
different cultures, there are great changes and great differences in polit-
ical and legal systems, social and economic organisation, belief
structures, and in, for instance, the status and power of women; com-
pared with these, any changes and differences in standards of beauty are
rather insignificant.
Because a painting is acknowledged to be a great painting, and
because it contains one or more representations of women, that does
not mean that these women must have been, and that their portraits
were necessarily intended to represent them as, beautiful. On the other
hand, paintings of no great artistic merit can contain indisputably beau-
tiful women: the paintings of Greuze provide cogent support for the
contention that a woman desired for her beauty in the late eighteenth
century would be so desired today - The Broken Jug is no masterpiece,
but what a lovely young woman it portrays. So to the crucial case of the
canvases of Peter Paul Rubens, with their masses of ponderous female
flesh. Some art critics would argue that the women portrayed in
16 IT

Rubens's paintings are beautiful and that it is only because we look at

them wrongly that we get the sense of their being grossly overweight.21
I think it has to be admitted that both in our own eyes, and judged by
the types of women being painted just before, and just after Rubens, and
indeed by other artists at the time of Rubens, his women are too fat to
be beautiful. What I am going to suggest is that in Europe as a whole
(Rubens was an international painter renowned throughout Europe),
while the representations of women produced by Rubens were
undoubtedly possessed of a strong erotic charge (for some beholders at
least), they were not widely regarded as ideals of beauty, and that to see
them as intended as such is to misconceive Rubens's own objectives.
Let us start with his treatise The Theory of the Human Figure. This
work is based on Greek theories of art and on the careful study of sur-
viving Greek statues. It is overwhelmingly devoted to the male figure,
which is said to be based on the cube and the triangle. 'The male form',
Rubens insists, 'is the true perfection of the human figure.'22 In chapter
3 there is a section on antique statues, with some brief references to stat-
ues of woman, who 'differs from man in that she is more apprehensive
and more feeble, because her centre of gravity, which passes through the
middle of the throat, does not correspond exactly and perpendicularly
with the centre of equilibrium which ought to be found in the middle
of the back of the leg, as it is in a man .. ,'23 Only chapter 7, the last one,
is devoted entirely to 'the proportions of the woman'. Rubens writes:
The elements of the human figure are different in man and in woman, in
that in man all the elements tend towards perfection, as in the cube and
equilateral triangle: in woman, on the contrary, everything is more feeble
and smaller. From which happens that, in woman, the perfection is less,
but the elegance of forms is greater: in place of the cube which is enfee-
bled in the figure of woman, there is a parallelogram ... From that one
can infer that, with regard to the perfection of forms, woman takes second
place after man ... the idea of the beauty of man having been created
perfect, as it probably existed in Adam and in Christ.

Rubens then moves on to 'the perfection of the various parts of the body
of a woman'. He says that the body must not be 'too thin or too skinny,
nor too large or too fat, but with a moderate embonpoint, following the
model of the antique statues'.24
Rubens, therefore, was concerned to paint women (and men) as in
 FASCINATION I/

antique statues, and in accordance with his belief that women did not
exemplify human beauty as perfectly as men. Before dealing with more
of Rubens's aims as a painter, it is important to examine his personal
circumstances. He was himself a beautiful man, and a great success in
the world both as a diplomat and as a painter. In 1609, at the age of
thirty-two, he married Isabella Brandt, who was eighteen. The double
portrait which Rubens did of himself and his young bride is a charming
one; Rubens is the handsome dashing figure, his wife youthfully entic-
ing enough, but plumpish and with a round, personable face, rather
than a strikingly beautiful one. From the available Flemish womankind
Rubens had, as everyone does, made his choice, not expecting a woman
to compete with him in beauty, and being personally drawn towards
plumpness (a quality he did not confuse with beauty). The marriage was
without doubt a happy and loving one; the couple had one girl and two
boys. Then in 1626 Isabella died. Rubens's reflections on her death are
preserved in a famous letter:
Truly I have lost an excellent companion, whom one could love - indeed
had to love, with good reason - as having none of the faults of her sex.
She had no capricious moods, and no feminine weakness, but was all
goodness and honesty. And because of her virtues she was loved during
her lifetime, and mourned by all at her death. Such a loss seems to me
worthy of deep feeling, and since the true remedy for all ills is Forgetful-
ness, daughter of Time, I must without doubt look to her for help. But
I find it very hard to separate grief for this loss from the memory of a
person whom I must love and cherish as long as I live.25

That there is no mention at all of Isabella's appearance, not even any

conventional invocation of her 'beauty', may simply be in keeping with
the elegiac tone of the letter; or it may add to our understanding of how
Rubens perceived his wife.
Just over eight years later, Rubens did decide to marry again, this time
choosing Helene Fourment, a girl of sixteen with a remarkable resem-
blance to Isabella, whose niece indeed she was; Rubens was now
fifty-three. The several portraits of Helene show her as having even
more of a pudding face than Isabella, and reveal also that she very
quickly became obese. All this we can take as confirmation that Rubens
had a proclivity for fattish women; clearly he became fixated on a par-
ticular facial type, and seemingly did not look for, nor expect to find,
18 IT

particular distinction of feature in a woman's face. That, as a painter, he

could register more distinguished and appealing features is brought out
in his famous painting (in the National Gallery, London) of Helene's
sister, Suzanne, known as Le Chapeau de Faille (The Straw Hat). In his
great mythological paintings filled with women who, both in their heavy
limbs and rather boring faces, tend to be reminiscent of Isabella and
Helene, Rubens was, in part, following his own fancy. It may also be
worth recalling that one of his most famous commissions was the cycle
(in the Louvre) on the life of Marie de' Medicis, who was herself a heavy
and plain woman. Rubens did his best with her, but maybe it was tact-
ful to surround her with other female figures built on a similar scale.
Then there were the theories we have noted on the proper way of rep-
resenting human forms, female and male. Actually Rubens painted on a
more voluminous scale than was to be found in the classical statues he
studied, and this, to come to the absolutely fundamental point, was
because he himself was busy pioneering the new baroque style for which
massive proportions were required. Rubens was concerned with the
overall artistic problems of composition and scale; and he was intensely
preoccupied with the texture of flesh, and the play of light upon it. For
artistic purposes, he needed immense expanses of ponderous flesh. A
variety of evidence, then, indicates that Rubens's representations of
women were not primarily intended by him to be models of female
beauty - he had other purposes in mind. Without doubt there were con-
temporary patrons who rejoiced in the voluptuous displays of nudity
(but, as already noted, while beauty is always sexually appealing, that
which is sexually arousing is not always beautiful); there were others,
however, who dismissed Rubens's models as overweight Flemish peas-
ant women26 To clinch the argument that they were certainly not the
only model of female beauty at the time - which is really the minimum
I have to establish for my purpose - I wish to take you into the Palazzo
Bianco in Genoa: in one room, on opposite walls, painted within ten
years of each other, are a gross female by Rubens, and a slim elegant one
by Van Dyke. Rubens's women may well have been representative of a
living, breathing, type which predominated in the Flanders of the day,
but they were not taken throughout France, Italy and England to be
generally representative of the highest female beauty.
Finally here are the views of an art historian who confesses to finding
 FASCINATION 19

much of Rubens's work 'arousing' and describes The Rape of the Daugh-
ters ofLeucippuSy The Three Graces and Helene Fourment in a Fur Wrap
as masterpieces of erotic art (they may be, but, to repeat, that does not
automatically make them exemplars of female beauty).27 In trying to
deal with the present-day view that Rubens's women are too fat, this
critic, Keith Roberts, offers ca word ... in Rubens's favour'. This 'word',
in fact, supports my own contentions:
Even now, very few women have figures as trim as Brigitte Bardot's.
Undress any crowd of Saturday morning shoppers in one of the main
shopping streets of Europe and the effect would probably be depressing
and more 'Rubensian' than one might have imagined. A more important
point is that in saying 'I hate Rubens's fat women' one is mentally taking
them out of the picture and seeing them as real figures in the real world;
but the degree of illusion Rubens creates through his brilliant painting of
skin is, first and last, an artistic illusion.
What is really significant about Phoebe and Hilaria in The Rape of the
Daughters ofLeucippus is not their bodies, judged as female bodies in this
or any other situation, but their poses in this particular composition ...
How the figures might have looked in other situations, or in life, was
totally irrelevant.28

My case rests: Rubens as the painter of an everyday depressing' crowd

of Saturday morning shoppers, or Rubens as the creator of great picto-
rial compositions, is fine: this is not the artist painting, as so often
alleged, the early seventeenth-century ideal of female pulchritude.
My contention is that ideas of what, in the Western World, have
constituted human beauty are more universal, and less subject to varia-
tion (though they have been subject to expansion and increasing flexi-
bility), than is assumed, practically without reflection or examination, by
trendy theory. What has changed though, and that is a central theme of
this book, is the way in which beauty is valued. Today, the evidence lies
all around us that our civilisation as it exists now has an intense preoc-
cupation with personal appearance, and gives a very high rating to
human beauty. Whether on the billboards which line our streets and sta-
tions, in the glossy magazines which jostle for position on bookstalls and
in the newsagents, or during the regular assaults of the television com-
mercials on our own living rooms, we see that the received method of
marketing products of every type is to associate them with a beautiful
2O IT

human being, whether male or female. It is a commonplace that, as tech-

nology advanced in tandem with conflicts in Kosovo, Afghanistan, and
Iraq, television also brought the heat of battle into our homes; at the
same time one could not avoid noting that the new generation of war
reporters were, to an astonishing degree, beautiful young women, with
a scattering of beautiful young men, one of whom, Rageh Omar, a black
BBC reporter, was apparently so attractive to American females he
acquired the nickname 'The Scud Stud'. Today, in a wide range of jobs,
particularly those in any form of communications, the possession of per-
sonal beauty is an enormous asset. Nearly twenty years ago I made the
case that human beauty in the late twentieth century was coming to
assume an independent value of its own, rivalling such qualities as sta-
tus, wealth and education, and being possessed, indeed, of considerable
commercial value. Since then a number of hard-headed economic stud-
ies have conclusively demonstrated that in many areas the beautiful get
the better jobs, pull in the higher earnings.29 Here, in prime Wall Street
jargon, is the conclusion from the first of these studies:
Holding constant demographic and labor-market characteristics, plain
people earn less than people of average looks, who earn less than the good-
looking. The penalty for plainness is 5 to 10 per cent, slightly larger than
the premium for beauty. The effects are slightly larger for men than
women; but unattractive women are less likely than others to participate in
the labor force and are more likely to be married to men with unexpect-
edly low human capital. Better-looking people sort into occupations where
beauty is likely to be more productive; but the impact of individuals' looks
on their earnings is mostly independent of occupation.30

Ironically, this utterly practical research, demonstrating that, with

respect to fundamental earning power, beauty was certainly no myth,
had in part been stimulated by the runaway best-seller, The Beauty Myth
by Naomi Wolf (1990), which argued that ideals of female beauty were
deliberately constructed by men in order to perpetuate their rule over
women; by writing off large numbers of women as 'not beautiful' they
could, Wolf claimed, keep these women in a permanent state of oppres-
sion. Like all spinners of absurd relativist theory, Wolf was obsessed by
the notion that men are driven by the search for power, when most, in
fact, are driven by the search for pleasure. Hence her ludicrous and (at
that time) intellectually trendy contention that: 'The beauty myth is not
 FASCINATION 21

about women at all. It is all about men and power'.31 If men actually
could 'construct' female beauty, it would be in their interest not to
restrict the amount of beauty but to create as much as possible, so that
there would be plenty of lovely sex-mates to go round. In any case, as
the survey I have just quoted brings out, the bonus of beauty was now
being enjoyed by men as well as women. Wolf was herself a very beau-
tiful young woman, and looked terrific in her many television
interviews. It is, of course, one of the benefits of that distinctly non-
mythical attribute, beauty, that it can enable its possessors to get away
with talking complete tripe.
No doubt it is unfair that some individuals are beautiful and most are
not; but then it is also unfair that a relative minority have musical tal-
ent, mathematical talent, artistic talent, literary talent, acting talent,
business talent, sporting talent, the uniquely flexible cartilages and joints
which make possible the exquisite contortions of the ballet dancer. It's
true that exploitation of the main range of human talents calls for ded-
ication, training and hard work in a way that exploitation of beauty
generally does not, though, as we shall see in the course of this book,
the exploitation of beauty usually does call for elements of thought,
patience, strategy and, often, the exercise of another talent or talents.
But whether we are talking of the most formidable intellect, the most
sublime artistic genius, or merely great natural beauty, each is, ulti-
mately, a gift from the genes. In the past the beautiful cashed in on their
looks almost exclusively by granting sexual favours to the powerful. But
in modern mass democratic society, though beauty, of course, contin-
ues to carry its elemental sexual charge, its commercial value, based on
its appeal to masses of people, as consumers, viewers, audiences, no
longer depends on sexual transactions (though jobs putting sexuality up
for sale continue to blossom - from male prostitution to female lap-
dancing). The advantages conferred by beauty can be irritating, even
infuriating. But try this simple test: would you really prefer there to be
fewer (perhaps even no) beautiful people in the world, or more of them?
Most of us recognise that, in fact, we get immense pleasure from the
company of beautiful people (of both sexes), from beholding them, and
(generally) experience a sense of lift when a beautiful person comes into
the room; and that, short of getting what we really want (a stunningly
beautiful sex-mate for our ourselves) we would rather have more of the
22 IT

beautiful around than fewer of them. Thus, while I am not going to

equate the possession of perfect form and features to the talent of a
Luciano Pavarotti, or a Bill Gates, I do maintain that that particular and
very specific gift does enrich the lives of others. What causes the agony
is the mad pursuit of beauty when it is better to recognise that, like the
vast majority, we do not possess it, and the failure to recognise that there
are so many other worthwhile personal qualities, such as friendliness,
generosity and understanding.
That beauty is fascinating, disturbing, intensely real (in other words
no myth) is apparent from the (highly rational) attention it is receiving
from the post-feminist generation. Ellen Zetzel Lambert in The Face of
Love: Feminism and the Beauty Question (1995) poses the questions:
What is the nature of the elusive but surely real relationship between a
person's outward appearance and his or her inner nature? Why should
some people seem so beautiful to us on a first meeting, then not so beau-
tiful as we come to know them better, while the beauty of others reveals
itself to us only over time?32

Wendy Steiner, in The Problem with Beauty (2001) has advised that
instead of giving themselves eating disorders in the pursuit of perfect
beauty, which, unlike many earlier feminists of a post-modernist per-
suasion, she clearly accepts does actually exist, women should 'see
themselves as beautiful in a more human sense - valuable, worthy of
love/33 This echoes the advice advanced fifteen years earlier by Nancy
C. Baker in her The Beauty Trap: How Every Woman Can Free Herself
From It - and, indeed, that of wise post-feminist women everywhere:
Isn't it time that we redefined beauty for ourselves so that it includes far
more than perfect features, artfully enhanced make-up, hairstyling and
clothing. My own new definition, for instance, is that a truly beautiful
woman makes the best of her physical assets but, more important, she also
radiates a personal quality which is attractive. Unlike the woman with a
gorgeous face and body who is obsessed with herself, my ideally beautiful
woman exudes concern for others, as well as intelligence, enthusiasm,
humour, and self-confidence. These are all qualities we can cultivate in
ourselves, and they're qualities that will last us a lifetime.34

Sensible as these arguments are for the everyday living of life, they sim-
ply take us back to the subterfuges discussed at the beginning of this
 FASCINATION 23

chapter, blurring the distinction (essential to the purposes of this book)

between being physically beautiful (having ca gorgeous face and body' -
don't we need to preserve the obvious word for that rare and disturb-
ing condition?) and being 'nice', 'human', 'considerate'. The curious
point about these feminist and post-feminist works is that, while I have
always been concerned with the implications of beauty in men as well
as of beauty in women (though my feminist critics refused to give me
any credit for this), they are exclusively concerned with looks in women.
This book deals equally with 'the man with the gorgeous face and body'.
I regret Baker's slander that the beautiful woman is necessarily 'obsessed
with herself: many beautiful women are 'considerate' and 'human' -
feminists ruin their own arguments when they suggest otherwise. Actu-
ally, I will be showing that, historically, gorgeous men (unlike most
gorgeous women) have tended to be rather stupidly 'obsessed with
themselves'.
My fundamental point is that beauty is no figment, no myth: beauty
exists. It stands out, it arouses desire, it is disturbing; it may bring suc-
cess, or it may bring tragedy. As two women psychologists, Elaine
Hatfield and Susan Sprecher, have put it their brilliant synthesis based
on masses of empirical work, Mirror, Mirror: The Importance of Looks in
Everyday Life:
Undoubtedly, it is good to be good-looking when it comes to developing
and maintaining personal relationships. Those possessed with good looks
seem to have many advantages in their social lives ... people do desire the
company of attractive men and women. In most people's fantasies, the
'romantic other' is someone who looks like he/she just stepped out of the
pages of Glamour magazine. When men and women do not have to worry
about the possibility of being rejected, they tend to prefer the most attrac-
tive partner possible ... attractiveness can stimulate passion - the best
aphrodisiac seems to be an attractive partner.

Hatfield and Sprecher point out some of the disadvantages beauty can
have (Paul Newman, whom they do not mention, was not alone among
beautiful males in complaining that constant reference to his blue eyes
distracted attention from his achievements as a highly intelligent actor
and director - personally I doubt whether such compliments to a man
or a woman, or the ones to woman that feminists used to call 'demean-
ing': 'lovely face', 'nice legs', 'good body', 'stunning looks', etc, really are
24 IT

much of a burden.) Hatfield and Sprecher quote this from a 'beautiful'

(their word) woman:
I am small and blonde. Many men assume even before they've met me,
that I am interested in romance. When men I don't even know start up
with me, I get non-responsive and irritable. I know what it will lead to. It's
embarrassing. It's exhausting. No one will take no for an answer. I'm tired
of saying no, again, and again, ever so politely.35

To demonstrate that beautiful men suffer in the same way, Hatfield and
Sprecher cite the case of a beautiful male journalist, Pat Jordan, who, in
June 1982, published an article in Mademoiselle, entitled 'Confessions of
a Handsome DeviF:
Everyone has fleeting sexual fantasies about one another. For some, how-
ever, these fantasies are not enough. When Jordan is not interested, some
women feel betrayed and strike out. Friendship is not enough for them.
Many beautiful women, attracted to him because of his looks, turned on
him when he failed to respond.36

No doubt Jordan was the source for this account, but Hatfield and
Sprecher authenticate it by presenting it in their own words.
Beauty as aphrodisiac and provoker of sexual fantasy, as well as
beauty as enhancement of earning power: these are the blunt, unam-
biguous ways in which beauty is evaluated today. But throughout the
centuries, up until very recently, beauty, while always perceived as
exceptional, and therefore as exciting and disturbing, was thoroughly
enveloped in ambivalence and confusion. These have their origins in the
nature of early - basically agricultural and land-owning - society, its
customs and superstitions, and in the more self-conscious programmes
and codes worked out by the Ancient Greeks, then developed within the
early Christian Church. It is to pre-industrial society, its beliefs and prej-
udices about beauty, and the practical implications of these, that I now
turn.
 2

Plato, Augustine and Mrs Astell

From classical times till at least the late nineteenth century the over-
whelming majority of the inhabitants of the West scratched a living
from the land. They were mobile neither geographically nor socially: the
peasant lived, worked, married and died within his own community.
Those who were mobile were still less fortunate, for their mobility was
that of the vagrant and the tramp. For neither man nor woman was
there much choice in the way of sexual partners: the notion of choosing
someone because of their superior personal appearance was an almost
meaningless one. Standards of nutrition and health were low and, there-
fore, so also were sex drives: marriage was overwhelmingly a matter of
stern practicality rather than sexual gratification. Again, therefore, per-
sonal appearance was scarcely a matter of great concern. Even had
private inclination existed, without the chance to travel or the chance to
move up in society, the opportunity for comparison, and therefore for
selection, scarcely existed. With illness, mortality and early decrepitude
everywhere in evidence, an overwhelming priority was the rearing of
(comparatively) healthy children for continuance of the family and,
more to the point, support when earning powers failed. The impera-
tives, then, were far other than those of sexual aesthetics. The outlook
of the relatively well-fed peasants of medieval Franche-Comte in eastern
France is encapsulated in a local proverb which, it should be noted,
makes it perfectly clear the peasants fully understood the concept, and
the (dangerous) joys of having a beautiful wife: 'When one has a beau-
tiful wife, one has no fine pigs - Why? - Because the pigs, instead of
eating, spend all their time staring at her'.1
Even for the highest born, life was brutish and potentially short: every
sinew had to be stretched towards maintaining and, if possible, improv-
ing the family fortunes (this was usually just as true for monarchies and
26 IT

empires as for farming and professional families). For the most power-
ful (and, therefore, male) there certainly were opportunities for
exercising the eternal predilection for a beautiful sexual partner, but in
marriage, and all formal social and political relationships, considera-
tions of wealth and status always reigned supreme over those of mere
physical beauty.
Pagan superstition blended with classical thought and Christian piety.
Common knowledge held it that a person's character was closely related
to their physical appearance. The ugly and the deformed were - one of
the cruellest aspects of traditional attitudes - automatically judged to be
guilty of the utmost villainy; a princess who said her prayers was decreed
to be beautiful, even if actually plain as a prune, and spurned by all
suitors who had any choice in the matter. Sexuality (this is where tradi-
tional attitudes contrast diametrically with modern ones) was a matter
for shock, horror and guilt. Practical parents, guardians of the family
fortunes, and of community values, joined with Platonic philosophers -
from whom came the governing concept of love without sex, 'platonic
love' - and the fathers of the early Christian church - who went one bet-
ter in inventing procreation without sex, Virgin birth' - in denouncing
the dangers and temptations of human beauty. The servants of a church
morbidly preoccupied with what it saw as the evils of sexuality railed
against such beauty — extolling instead the beauty of God — while pru-
dent parents could see that lust for a beautiful face or body could be
totally disruptive of careful schemes for enhancing the family position.
Usually the lust was that of a man, in Ancient Greece the lust of a
man for a beautiful boy, and, in the middle ages and through to recent
times, the lust of a man for a beautiful woman. Even today most books
about human beauty focus exclusively on women. Though there are
exceptions, it is an important part of the traditional evaluation of beauty
that it is seen as a quality essentially pertaining to women. This book
will give examples from the past of beauty in man being of historical sig-
nificance, and will trace the processes by which, in the contemporary
evaluation of beauty, that of males is considered to share in importance
with that of females. In this chapter such examples, as the chapter title
indicates, necessarily take second place to a discussion of the formation
of the traditional beliefs and prejudices about beauty. The first clear
injunctions are found scattered in the works of the ancient Greek
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 2/

philosopher Plato (427-347 BC), who set out deliberately to influence

behaviour. In this he was followed by the early Christians, most notably
St Augustine (354-430), whose writings incorporate extensive commen-
taries on the scriptures. Certain figures in the Italian Renaissance,
notably Agnolo Firenzuola (active in the early sixteenth century),
brought some modern notions into their discussions and debates on
beauty and self-presentation, while Shakespeare (at the end of the same
century) simply commented with unique perceptiveness on the passions
and foibles of the society around him. There followed many moralists
and purveyors of advice, obsessed, of course, by sex and lust: Mrs Mary
Astell (writing at the beginning of the eighteenth century) is the prime
example of an English one.
Ancient Athens was in many respects a vicious society, founded, it
could almost be said, on the twin institutions of slavery and capital pun-
ishment (and death by the swallowing of hemlock was, contrary to the
suppositions of romantics like Keats, a horrible one).2 The enduring
appeal of ancient Athens is that the bright young men of its elite
addressed themselves to the questions of human existence, in all its
ramifications, which have remained on our agenda ever since. Plato was
primarily a political animal, preoccupied with the questions of how the
good life should be achieved and how the individual within the com-
munity should be governed. In Athens those dramatic instincts, which
lie deep in human nature and gain other outlets through the flamboy-
ance of fashion, were expressed in theatre and in political debate. Plato's
chosen form, in which he explored the great questions, was the dialogue.
In many of the dialogues the leading figure is Socrates (469—399 BC),
Plato's revered teacher. Many of the other characters had a genuine his-
torical existence; a few seem to have been invented. The words, and
probably much of the thought, are almost certainly those of Plato and
are usually thus attributed, as they will be here. The major discussions of
beauty are contained in the Georgias, the Greater Hippias, the Phaedras
and the Symposium (or 'Banquet'). The intention in the Greater Hippias
seems to be to set up Hippias, so that the superficiality of his comments
is exposed as Socrates goes on to reveal deeper and more subtle truths.
Actually Hippias' response to Socrates' question, 'What is beauty?' both
demonstrates that even the ancient Greeks were susceptible to the eter-
nal lure of female beauty, and has an impressively modern ring to it: 'A
28 IT

beautiful young lady is a beauty'.3 However, Socrates trumps that with

what for more than two millennia has been taken for the very summit of
wisdom: Is not the most beautiful of mortal women plain when com-
pared with the perfect and unfading beauty of the immortal Gods?'
It should be noted, however, that Socrates is recognising that among
mortal women there are some accepted by all as being outstandingly
beautiful. Their problem, if we read his words carefully, is not just that
their beauty is not 'perfect' but that it is not 'unfading'; this became a
favourite theme of moralists of all types, who delight in telling us that
not only does mortal beauty 'fade', it rots away. Socrates (somewhat
erratically and inconsistently, it seems to me), then moves to a much-
quoted definition of beauty, suggesting that 'the useful and the effective
directed to the achievement of a good end, are the beautiful'.4
It is in the Phaedras that one finds the core of the Platonic view of
beauty which, in all its poignant ambivalence, formed the basis of the
conception of beauty held throughout most of the history of the West.
True beauty, Socrates says, is, together with the wise and the good, a
part of divinity. But there is also 'mere bodily beauty' and, Socrates
laments, it is ordained:
that all men, even the wisest, shall be the slaves of corporeal beauty ...
Base souls, almost all wholly embruted in sense, love, almost as brutes do,
rushing in to enjoy and beget.. .5

The idea that beyond mere bodily beauty there exists true, divine beauty
and that the beautiful, the true, and the good are only different mani-
festations of one eternal divine perfection is repeated in the Symposium.
Here there is, as it were, a dialogue within a dialogue, when Socrates
reports on the interchange he has had with the wise woman Diotima of
Mantinea. Why this character, almost certainly fictional, should have
been introduced is not clear; both Plato and Socrates were generally
contemptuous of the intellectual powers of women, but it may be that
Plato wanted independent propaganda on behalf of homosexual love.6
Anyway, it is in the reported words of Diotima that we have the famous
passage about the ladder, or series, of ascending stages which leads from
earthly beauty to absolute beauty.
For he who would proceed aright in this matter should begin in youth to
seek the company of corporeal beauty; and, first, if he be guided by his
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 29

instructor aright, to love one beautiful body only - out of that he should
create fair thoughts; and soon he will himself perceive that the beauty of
one body is akin to the beauty of another; and then if beauty of form in
general is his pursuit, how foolish would he be not to recognise that the
beauty in everybody is one and the same! And when he perceives this he
will abate his violent love of the one, which he will despise and deem a
small thing, and will become a steadfast lover of all beautiful bodies. In the
next stage he will consider that the beauty of the soul is more precious
than the beauty of the outward form; so that if a virtuous soul have but a
little comeliness, he will be content to love and tend him, and will search
out and bring to birth thoughts which may improve the young, until he is
compelled next to contemplate and see the beauty in institutions and laws,
and to understand that the beauty of them all is of one family, and that
personal beauty is a trifle; and after institutions his guide will lead him on
to the sciences, in order that, beholding the wide region already occupied
by beauty, he may cease to be like a servant in love with one beauty only,
that of a particular youth or man or institution, himself a slave mean and
narrow-minded; but drawing towards and contemplating the vast sea of
beauty, he will create many fair and noble thoughts and discourses in
boundless love of wisdom, until on that shore he grows and waxes strong,
and at last the vision is revealed to him of a single science, which is the
science of beauty everywhere.7

This ascent from earthly to absolute beauty, Diotima concludes,

should govern men's lives. What should be loved is beauty in general,
beauty in the abstract, divine beauty, 'the science of beauty every-
where'; what is being warned against is obsession with one particularly
(physically) beautiful body - it should be recognised (as moralists,
and some feminists, like to tell us today) that all human bodies share
in the quality of beauty. This is advice on how to lead the good life:
what is openly admitted is the immense power of sheer corporeal beauty
which, whether in young women or young men, makes 'slaves' of
men, bringing them rushing in 'almost as brutes do' to 'enjoy', though
obviously not always 'to beget' (indeed I suspect that 'beget' is used as
a kind of poetic metaphor to signify 'copulate' or 'ejaculate'). It should
also be noted that Diotima recognises that someone with 'a virtuous
soul' may actually not be very good looking. It is perhaps a pity that
future generations, including people in our own day, chose to heed
the confused spiritual message wittingly propagated by the Greeks
30 IT

(perhaps to mollify their gods), and ignored their repeated insistence

on the very real existence of a rare, but devastating, 'bodily beauty'.
It is this 'bodily beauty', actually recognised, if a little surreptitiously,
by all the greatest minds of the past, that my book is concerned
with.
If we judge by Greek sculpture, then divine beauty was actually
remarkably similar to human beauty, the theory being that to achieve
it the sculptor had to take the best features from many different human
beings (actually, as we all know, one of the points about a supremely
beautiful human being is the impression he or she gives of having
features which cannot be improved upon). Divine Greek beauty does
not - though there is a certain cold lack of sensuality about marble
sculptures - look a million miles different from the beauty which
arouses brutish instincts to enjoy and 'beget'. In fact, as the probably
deliberately 'spun' words attributed to Diotima revealed, where the
powerful male Athenian sought beauty was not in the likes of the Venus
de Milo but in young men. The true Athenian pin-up was perhaps
Ganymede, the mythical figure described in Homer's Iliad as 'the most
beautiful of mortal men', whose beauty excited the desire of Zeus
himself - naturalistically represented on many a Greek vase. In the
Charmides, whose central political topic is the desirability of modera-
tion, we get a sharp illumination of what powerful, middle-aged
Athenians really thought constituted beauty.
Socrates is the narrator; he tells of how he was in the palaestra of
Taures after a considerable absence from Athens. He asks 'about the
present state of philosophy, and about the youth ... whether any of
them were remarkable for wisdom, or beauty, or both'. Critias speaks
of 'the great beauty of the day' - Charmides. Charmides enters and
At that moment, when I saw him, I confess that I was quite astonished at
his beauty and stature; all the company seemed to be enamoured of him;
amazement and confusion reigned when he entered; and a second troupe
of lovers followed behind him. That grown-up men like ourselves should
have been affected in this way was not surprising, but I observed the boys
and saw that all of them, down to the very smallest, turned and looked at
him, as if he had been a statue ... Chaerephon called me and said: What
do you think of the young man, Socrates?
Has he not a beautiful face?
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS A S T E L L 31

Most beautiful, I said.

But you would think nothing of his face, he replied, if you could see his
naked form: he is absolutely perfect.
And to this they all agreed,
Ye Gods, I said, what a paragon if only he has one other slight addition.
What is that? said Critias.
If he has a noble soul...
He is as fair and good within as he is without, replied Critias.
Then before we see his body, should we not ask him to strip and show us
his soul? ...

When Charmides comes and sits besides Socrates the latter's powers of
conversation flee:
I caught sight of the inwards of his garment and took the flame. Then I
could no longer contain myself. I thought how well Cydias understood the
nature of love, when, in speaking of a fair youth, he warns someone 'not
to bring the faun in the sight of the lion to be devoured by him', for fear
that I had been overcome by a sort of wild-beast appetite.8

Clearly Plato (or Socrates) did believe deeply in the distinction

between the noble beauty of the soul and the wickedly tempting beauty
of the body, though there does seem to be more than a touch of want-
ing to have your crumpet and moralise about it too. Writers such as
George Eliot, Anthony Trollope and Jacqueline Suzanne evoke human
beauty, not so much by direct description as by describing the impact
the beautiful person has on others. Here Plato has just given us a clas-
sic instance of this. With respect to Charmides, we learn nothing of the
shape of his nose, the height of his brow, or the thrust of his chin, but
we are left in no doubt as to his devastating physical beauty — 'amaze-
ment and confusion reigned when he entered'; he engendered in
Socrates 'a sort of wild-beast appetite'. Once more we have an unam-
biguous recognition of beauty in the modern (the guilt over sexual
desire apart) sexual (in this case homosexual) sense. Once more we have
that insistence upon the distinction between the beauty of the body and
the beauty of the soul, within a further insistence on there being an
absolute beauty, embracing everything, including institutions, science
and noble thoughts and discourses, which generated the appalling mud-
dle which has bedevilled the study of human beauty ever since. Among
32 IT

the Greeks, the ambivalent and potentially hypocritical notion of beauty

went hand in hand with the relegation of women to a thoroughly sub-
ordinate status, and a contempt for real wives, mothers and daughters
(as distinct from goddesses). The emergence of the modern conception
of beauty was to depend, not on the continuing subordination of
women, but upon their increasing liberation. To their Roman and
medieval successors, the Greeks transmitted their confusion and guilt
about human beauty, though not, on the whole, their homosexuality.
While Athenian males relegated their womenfolk entirely to the private
sphere of home and kitchen, only applauding beauty contests among
young males, and leaving beauty contests among girls entirely for female
audiences,9 the Romans did allow their women some part in social life
and applauded young female acrobats and other performers clad in the
scantiest 'bikinis'.10
St Augustine was born on 13 November 354 at Tagaste, a small town
in the Roman province of Numidia on what is now the eastern border
of Algeria, the son of a minor, and, therefore, moderately paid Roman
village official. His father was a pagan, but Augustine, though not bap-
tised, learned the rites and beliefs of Christianity from his mother, a
devout Christian. First he studied grammar and literature, then in 370
he went to Carthage to study rhetoric. Shortly he revealed his own inter-
est in that subject of perennial fascination by writing a book about it:
On the Beautiful and the Fitting (De Pulchro et Aptoy 380); meantime he
had settled down with a woman whose looks greatly appealed to him,
though he was inclined to agree with his mother that, being of lowly
social status, she was not really a suitable partner, eventually dropping
her after a ten-year relationship. As he tell us in the Confessions (400?),
written after he had become a Christian, a bishop, and the leading the-
ologian of his day, he frequently succumbed to the temptations
presented by attractive young women. After teaching, first at Tagaste,
then at Carthage, he moved in 383 to the centre of the empire, Rome,
going on the following year to the municipal chair of rhetoric at Milan.
In 386 he decided to become a Christian, leading a group in philosoph-
ical dialogues which he published as Against the Academics: On the
Happy Life and on Order. After demonstrating the breadth of his inter-
ests with his On Music, he then concentrated on what was now his
central concern, publishing On the Morals of the Catholic Church and of
 PLATO, AUGUSTINE AND MRS ASTELL 33

the Manicheans. At this point, he returned to North Africa, where he

sold up all his property, devoting the proceeds to the poor, and taking
up the monastic life. On a visit to Hippo in 391 he was ordained into the
priesthood. Achieving fame for his sermons and debating abilities, in 395
or 396 he was elevated to the bishopric of Hippo. In 397 there appeared
the first of his three books On Christian Doctrine. Many other works fol-
lowed until the first instalment of The City of God appeared in 413, the
remainder coming out serially over the next thirteen years.
Writing in the Confessions of his salad years, Augustine tells us:
I went to Carthage, where I found myself in the midst of a hissing caul-
dron of lust ... I muddied the stream of friendship.11

He explains:
I was in love with a beauty of a lower order and it was dragging me down.
I used to ask my friends 'Do we love anything unless it is beautiful? What,
then, is beauty and in what does it consist? What is it that attracts us and
wins us over to the things we love? Unless there were beauty and grace in
them, they would be powerless to win our hearts/12

He became fascinated by what he took to be the part played in beauty

(manifestly he is referring to women) by what he called cthe due bal-
ance' between the whole and its parts, as in 'the balance between the
whole of the body and any of its limbs', physical beauty being depend-
ent, he declared, con a harmony between the parts of the body,
combined with an attractive complexion'.13 This was the fundamental
subject of his book on Beauty (this book was lost during his lifetime as
he no doubt came to regard the subject as too redolent of his early car-
nal interests and inappropriate to his later godly ones).
Augustine made clear his immense debt to Plato, and in his own writ-
ing all the abhorrence of lust, all the guilty fastidiousness we find in
Plato, appears in spades. This is how he addressed Plato:
You have persuaded me that the truth is seen not with the bodily eyes, but
with the pure mind ... Nothing hinders the perception of the truth more
than a life devoted to lusts, and the false images of sensual things, derived
from the sensual world and impressed upon us by the agency of the
body.14

We noted Plato's argument that divine beauty eclipses human beauty

34 IT

because it is 'unfading'. As a few glances around any old church and

churchyard will demonstrate, the medieval church was steeped in mor-
bidity and a fascination with death and decay. Augustine was an
energetic agent in the creation and spread of this culture of the shroud
and skeleton, particularly in his discussions of human beauty. The flesh,
he declared, was 'but a covering of rags, always decaying towards final
death'; bodily beauty would always putrify and disappear.15 This was
true, of course, and obviously a vital consideration in the evaluation of
human beauty to those who shared Christian (and Platonic) preoccu-
pations with the contrast between eternity and the evanescence of
human life. If, of course, you accept, as we tend to do in our secular
age, that you are only going to be around for a short time anyway,
you also accept that the enjoyment of beauty is necessarily going to be
short-lived; beauty is not associated with eternity, but with youthfulness.
Augustine also goes on for page after page, and with great gusto,
about the evils of sexual desire and sexual activity. Here are a few sen-
tences extracted from over sixty close packed pages in The City of God:
the word lust usually suggests to the mind the lustful excitement of the
organ of generation. And this lust not only takes possession of the whole
body and outward members, but also makes itself felt within and moves
the whole mass with a passion in which mental emotion is mingled with
a bodily appetite, so that the pleasure which results is the greatest of all
bodily pleasures. So possessing indeed is this pleasure that, the moment of
time in which it is consummated, all mental activity is suspended.16

This is immediately followed up by the, let's face it, rather laughable

suggestion that the wise and holy man would prefer it if he could actu-
ally have children without going through the disgusting business of sex,
along the way invoking a misogynous verse from I Thessalonians, 4.4:
What friend of wisdom and holy joys, who, being married, but knowing
as the apostle says, 'how to possess his vessel in santification and honour,
not in the disease of desire, as the Gentiles who know not God', would not
prefer, if this were possible, to beget children without this lust, so that in
this function of begetting offspring the members created for this purpose
should not be stimulated by the heat of lust, but should be actuated by
his volition, in the same way as his other members serve him for their
respective ends?17
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 35

Here we have the origins of that twisted puritanism, Catholic and

Protestant, which had such a devastating impact on ideas about sex,
and, of course, about sexual attraction. At the same time, of course,
Augustine is recognising sex as 'the greatest of all bodily pleasures', and
for all of his strictures against it, he does linger sensuously over the
beautiful woman that he imagines Philosophia, or Wisdom, to be: any-
one seeing Philosophia's face 'would fly, an impassioned and holy lover,
amazed and glowing with excitement to the beauty of Philosophia'.18
And at one point he recognises female beauty as 'certainly a good, a
good of God', but then adds (rather clear-sightedly, actually, consider-
ing one of the enduring conventions about beauty and goodness) that
God 'bestows it on the evil as well as the good'.19 The cumulative mes-
sage of Augustine's strictures, and a most important one when it comes
to assessing the real outcomes of being endowed with true physical
beauty, is that there is a desperate competition between the love of
female beauty and the love of God.
Through all medieval discussions of beauty, the insistent theme is that
corporeal beauty, where openly recognised to exist, is something for
males to admire in females. In medieval Europe the convention became
established of beautiful women as the inspiration for male action and
heroics. Beauty certainly was considered a valuable asset in medieval
monarchs, and the medieval romances do not entirely neglect male per-
sonal appearance, but the emphasis is on stature and strength, broad
breasts and shoulders, thick strong thighs, and on such characteristics as
valour and endurance, rather than on distinction of facial features.20
Discussing male beauty in the manner in which female beauty had
always been discussed is, of course, in large measure unique to the mod-
ern, post-i96os evaluation of beauty. In introducing his hero Thomas
Randolph, the Scottish poet John Barbour (c. 1320-1395) requires a full
twenty-two lines to catalogue his virtues of prowess, loyalty and honour,
while his personal appearance can be dealt with in three:
He weas of mesurabill stature,
And portrait weill at all mesur'
With braid visage, pleasant and fair.21

Although much more detail is given on the attributes which make up

the personal appearance of heroines, it is highly stereotyped: her figure
36 IT

is small, well rounded, slender and graceful, with a small willowy waist
as a prime standard of excellence; the feet are small, the flesh white, save
for her rose-red cheeks, the hair blonde, the eyes blue and sparkling.22
Among the many departures from tact that the strict pursuit of the
aims of this book forces me into is the comment that slimness is always
prized in women, and that while the canonisation of that quality may
have gone to health-threatening extremes in our own day, it is a
complete myth that, in the West, fatness was ever prized. C I wouldn't
chuck her out of bed,' was once a frequent but, one now hopes extinct,
expression of crude male chauvinism. Philippe I of France (1180-1233)
did indeed, we are told by the medieval chronicler William Malmes-
bury, chuck his first wife out of bed, because he found her ltrop grasse
(too fat).23
In the later middle ages, and on into the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, there were standard summaries of what was held to constitute
beauty in a woman: first there are seven essential qualities, then nine,
then eighteen, and then the elaborate and very popular thirty, grouped
in threes: three to be long - hands, legs and hair; three to be white; three
to be pink; three to be round; three to be narrow; and so on. Clearly the
magic was as much arithmetical as sensuous.24 We are very short of biog-
raphical information for the middle ages, but it would certainly be
unwise to conclude that even those men who were in a position to make
choices exclusively favoured blondes, or went around ticking off the long
items, the pink ones, the round ones, etc. On the point that beauty was
felt to be a characteristic of women rather than men, however, the evi-
dence is sound. This is borne out further by the fact that there are very
few descriptions of ugly women in medieval literature and that, where
they exist, wicked witches apart, their purpose is usually to bring out
the beauty of the heroine.25 Overall what we have is a very strong empha-
sis on the conventional and even the artificial, an emphasis which pre-
cludes a proper appreciation of natural beauty in its many types, a key
element in the way beauty is appraised today. Absolutely central is the
association between looks and character: in the romances, the villains,
from the devil upward, are all extremely ugly.26 From classical times
there had been treatises on physiognomy translated, retranslated, and
hawked around medieval Europe, treatises which reinforced the con-
tempt and cruelty habitually shown towards the physically ill-favoured
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 37

and deformed. Certeyne Rewles ofPhisnomy (a fourteenth- or fifteenth-

century translation from the Arabic) tells us that: cye face that es playne
with outen rounde hilles, signyfies a strydiefull man, truandous wrong-
wyse and unclene ... Crete lippes are token of a folische man'.27
The theory, then, was that bodily beauty went with goodness and
godliness: along with their conventionalised physical attributes, heroines
always have a string of oft-recurring and rather bland epithets applied
to them: worthy, godly, virtuous, gentle, meek.28 But of course, even in
the most ritualised society, reality keeps breaking in. With its strong
(official) hatred of sexual pleasure, the Christian Church was overly
aware of the sinful temptations besetting a beautiful woman since, even
if she was inherently virtuous, she would be the object of persistent
attentions from desirable males to a degree not encountered by her less
well-favoured sisters. Through to at least the early seventeenth century
writers from within the Christian fold constantly repeat the same confl-
icting and hypocritical utterances: within a few pages a writer can define
beauty as goodness, attack it for arousing lust, and then proceed to dwell
lubriciously on the unseen intimate beauties of a woman's body. The
stylistic trick used by medieval painters to give an almost tactile sense of
physical intimacy was to paint palpably round stomachs (the 'bellies' so
lovingly described in the literature). The proper place to look for a rep-
resentation of what really was regarded as physical beauty is in a
painting where the women genuinely are meant to be tempting. A per-
fect example is provided by that ultimate Christian painting, The
Temptation of St Antony, painted in the mid-sixteenth century by the
Dutchman Henrick Met de Bles (known as 'II Civetta - the Owl).29
Antony is being tempted by two dolly-birds with sweet young faces,
perky breasts and round tummies; the contrast between them and the
overdressed old hag who is showing them off could not be more strik-
ing, nor more striking testimony to the absurdity of the theory that men
invent the distinction between beauty and ugliness simply in order to
put women down.
Everybody knew there was a distinction, not least the wealthier
women of the sixteenth century. Thus, already, 'beauty guides' were
beginning to appear, designed to help women present themselves in the
most comely way. The most famous pioneer of this genre was the Venet-
ian physician, Giovanni Marinelli, author also of Medicines for the
38 IT

Treatment of Infirmities in Women (1563). His The Embellishments of

Women (m Italian Gli ornamenti delle donne) came out in Venice the
previous year. Naturally there is no suggestion that there is anything
wicked about aspiring after a beautiful appearance: on the contrary this
is 'a useful work ... essential for every gentle person'; and, to enhance
marketability, the claim is made that it is 'translated from the writings
of a Greek Queen'.30 Advice will be given on how the beauties of the
body can be improved 'by art' and by 'human industry', care being
taken, however, to stress the importance of 'graceful manners' and a
'virtuous spirit'.31 The quality of the advice offered is not actually very
impressive, with much on the desired proportions of the various parts
of the body, less on how this is to be achieved. One gets a sad insight
into the prevalence of 'infirmities of the body'; much of the solid advice
concerns potions, paints and 'scented waters', with about a quarter of
the whole devoted to the treatment of the hair (perhaps this became
'woman's crowning glory' because it was one feature that was actually
amenable to 'art' and 'human industry'). An abundance of literary ref-
erences lend the book a certain dignity, though scarcely increased utility
for the purposes in hand.
In these early years of the printing press, plagiarism and piracy were
rampant. In 1582 there appeared in Paris, Three Books on the Embellish-
ment and Ornament of the Human Body, which, though claiming to be
'translated from the Latin by M. Jean Liebaut, Doctor of Medicine in
Paris', bore a strong resemblance to the book by Marinelli, with, how-
ever, additions and omissions and the material ordered in a different
way. We start with 'waters and powders' and move immediately to 'the
hair' and then 'all the parts and dependencies of the head'. The French
book gives much longer and more searching treatment to 'The Chest
and the Breasts' than does the Italian version:
The chest is considered beautiful when it is large, full of flesh, without any
bone appearing, while in colour tinted with vermilion; accompanied by
two fine round apples, small and firm, which are not too solid but which
come and go like little waves.
This beauty of the breasts is ruined when they are flat, puny and flac-
cid: or when they are huge, like a beggar's bag: or too hard: or inflamed,
chancrous, or hairy.

Various potions are recommended for external application. Then there

 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 39

is further discussion of the breasts which, it is said, this time directly

repeating Marinelli's comments, should 'not be too big, pendulous, or
too droopy'.32 The treatment recommended was probably quite sensible,
though may not have been very reassuring: 'a good, hot, moist and
nourishing diet, including good wines, good soups, jellies, pressed
meats, and similar foods'.33 Once again it is unambiguously clear that
fatness is not an esteemed attribute in women, a point driven home in
the references to 'buttocks' and 'thighs' which should not be at all big
and fat ('settlement mediocrement grosses et amples'}.34 That male deport-
ment, if not exactly beauty of feature, was of significance, is brought out
by occasional mentions of matters affecting men as well as women -
notably bad breath.35
There we have the directness of a book designed (however opti-
mistically) for use. With Gabriel de Minut's Of Beauty (1587), we are
back in the morass of Platonic-Christian morality. Dedicated to Cather-
ine de' Medici, it specifies its purpose as 'to signify that what is naturally
beautiful is also naturally good' (quite a job, since, as I have already
mentioned, Catherine de' Medici was far from 'naturally beautiful' -
traditional philosophy, however, was well suited to coping with such
problems). In one of the essays there is a description of one of the great
reputed beauties of sixteenth-century France (on whom, however, we
have little detail), La Belle Paule. Although we are told that she was
completely free of the vice which renders ugly the most beautiful per-
son, Minut does insist on how corporeal beauty can, in the context of
someone with a 'black soul', give rise to 'the pollution and contami-
nation of vice and ordure'.36 The same idea is expressed with equal
intensity in a slightly later book which, judging by the title, ought to
have had the same useful aims as the books by Marinelli and Liebaut,
Vart d'embellir (Paris, 1608), by David de Flurance Rivault: before offer-
ing any advice on self-embellishment, the author denounces 'the beauty
which rules over our affections, dominates our will and enslaves our
liberty, causing unbelievable desires, excesses of passion and fires of sen-
suality' (the beauty, of course, is in women; the 'fires' in men).37 Minut
praises La Belle Paule precisely because she has to fight over and over
again - 'a hundred plus a hundred times', he says - to defend her hon-
our; she therefore merits the crown of glory far more than a woman
who is not thus tempted.38 Quite palpably, though, he utterly relishes
4O IT

contemplating those beautiful women who, being tempted, succumb,

weeping crocodile tears over 'the poor hymen totally broken and torn'.39
Then comes his description of the physical attributes of La Belle Paule.40
In the usual way we have the conventional allusions to her forehead,
eyes, eyebrows and nose - hers, we learn, is perfect, and the further
improving information is thrown in that, according to Aristotle, diff-
erent shapes of nose indicate different types of personality. There are
standard phrases on the ears, chin, throat and so on, while the mouth,
intriguingly, is compared to that of a handsome young man. Then we
come to the breasts (de Minut uses the respectable, but sensual tetin),
which de Minut describes as 'fine', while noting (a point not made in
the beauty guides) that we don't get to see or touch them. There is
much on the thighs and buttocks, but, in the same vein, we are told
that we can only guess at these since again they are concealed from us.
Now the belly is caressingly described 'with the entry that babies come
through'. But this entry, again we are warned, is accessible to only
one person, the many others who lusted after it having been bravely
fought off, so that, says de Minut, 'we may decorate and embellish this
zone of the very centre of which we are now speaking ... the Temple
dedicated to Venus'.41 But, after this excursion into eroticism, we are,
by the last page of the book, back to the insistence that beauty and
morality are interrelated, with the closing words: 'beautiful is good, and
good is beautiful'.42
It is important not to exaggerate the social and cultural changes (con-
fined anyway to the elites) taking place during the Italian Renaissance
(centring on the sixteenth century), but undoubtedly there was an air-
ing of new and modern-sounding ideas about human beauty. Art and
philosophy, culture and behaviour continued to be pervaded and dom-
inated by religious categories and religious modes of thought and
expression. The single, central, indisputable feature of what Italians
themselves at the time recognised as the la rinascita, the 'rebirth' or
'Renaissance', was the revival of classical learning. Inevitably there was
a re-emphasis on Platonic ideals. Yet in the early part of the sixteenth
century a debate was initiated in which, whatever the surface formali-
ties, a challenge was mounted to both the Athenian and medieval
evaluations of human beauty. This challenge was related both to the
general ideas of Renaissance humanism (as expressed, for example, in
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 41

More's Utopia) and to the special features of urban culture in such city
states as Florence, Venice, Mantua and Urbino.
The city states offered a unique urban environment in which com-
parisons and choices could be made between attractive members of the
opposite sex, and a unique form of courtly life wherein questions of
beauty and sexual attractiveness were openly discussed: the whole
process was greatly enhanced by the mobility which existed between
these north Italian cities. Secondly, humanist thought, which was at full
strength at the beginning of the sixteenth century, while not to be iden-
tified with secularism, certainly encouraged hedonism and the belief
that 'pleasure is the proper purpose of every human act'. As early as 1430
Lorenzo Valla had written that 'pleasure is the true good'. Bringing our
central topic back into focus, he had then continued, 'what is sweeter,
what more delectable, what more adorable, than a fair face?', recom-
mending that in summer beautiful women should go lightly clad or not
at all.43 Thirdly, in the Italian city states were gathered the finest artists,
and the finest collections of paintings; how beauty should be painted
was an important matter for discussion; aesthetic standards were high
and could actually be applied in the pursuit of sexual pleasure. Finally,
among the privileged of Florence and Urbino, Mantua and Venice, Fer-
rara, Siena and Lucca, women were less trammelled by conventions and
stereotypes than they had been in medieval courts and castles; questions
of male beauty came into the reckoning, as well as the more traditional
ones of male valour. Indubitably, the position of women, even in circles
where 'modern' ideas about beauty were being canvassed, remained very
much one of dependency. Yet, if the reputation of Urbino had been
built by Duke Federigo di Montefeltro, the dominant figure at the end
of the fifteenth century was Elisabetta di Gonzago from Mantua, wife of
Federigo's son, Guidobaldo, who was himself incapacitated by gout. In
running the brilliant court society of Urbino, Elisabetta was assisted by
her lady, Emilia Pia.44 During the discussions of beauty he conducted at
Prato with the women of nearby Florence, Agnolo Firenzuola went out
of his way to insist that he believed women to be the equals of men,
though the very insistence suggests that this view was not very widely
held.
The confrontation between the Platonic and the modern view of
beauty can be seen at its sharpest in a too-much-neglected section of the
42 IT

fourth book of II libra de cortegiano (The Book of the Courtier) by Count

Baldesar Castiglione, which was based on real conversations held on
four evenings during March 1507 in the palace of Urbino (under the
general sponsorship of Elisabetta and immediate chairwomanship of
Emilia Pia), though undoubtedly much edited and revised before even-
tual publication in Venice in 1528. Thereafter it became one of the most
influential of sixteenth-century books, there being, for instance, an Eng-
lish translation by Sir Thomas Hoby in i56i.45 The discussion is opened
by the humanist cleric Pietro Bembo, Platonist scholar and, later, a Car-
dinal. He begins (I use the Hoby translation, with phrases from the
original Italian where there may be ambiguity; more modern transla-
tions seem to me not always to get things quite right) by distinguishing
between the beauty which applies to all things 'framed in good propor-
tion' and the rather more interesting subject, now the immediate topic
for discussion, the beauty 'that we meane, which is onlie it, that
appeareth in bodies, and especially in the face of mann' (that is, cin the
face of human beings', nei volti humani in the original), proceeding
immediately to a moving invocation of the power of beauty (in both
males and females) to arouse sexual love. Such beauty, he declares,
'moveth thys fervent covetinge which we call love'. But after much more
in this vein, comes the conventional moralising (hypocritical also, since
Bembo's own life fully demonstrated his own carnal interest in female
beauty):
When the fool is taken with covetting to enjoy the beauty as a good thing
he falleth into the most deep errors and judgeth the body i.e. in which
Beawty is discerned, to be the the principall cause thereof: whereupon to
enjoye it, he reckoneth it necessary to joigne as inwardly as he can with
that bodye, whyche is false.

Our senses, Bembo concludes, are the cause of wretchedness, while

beauty is always good. Others follow along similar lines, till Federigo
Fregoso (courtier, diplomat and scholar) brings them to a halt with a
blunt and modern statement of beauty (in men as well as women) as
independent of all moralising. Beautiful women, he says, have caused
wars; then he continues:
There be also manye wicked men that have the comliness of a beautiful
countenance, and it seemeth that nature hath so shaped them, because
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 43

they may be the redier to deceive, and that this amiable looke were like a
baite that covereth the hooke.
But after this sane, and very modern, appraisal, Bembo has the last
word, returning us totally to the old superstition: 'Beawtie is a face
pleasant, merrie, comelye and to be desired for goodnesse: and Foulness
is a face darke, uglesome, unpleasant and to be shonned by ylP.46
But there were other persuasive opponents of tradition (including, as
we have already noted, from northern Europe, Sir Thomas More). Pride
of place, however, must go to Agnolo Firenzuola's Dialogue on the
Beauty of Women, first published in 1548. Of a number of similar works
from the sixteenth century this most unambiguously presents the notion
of beauty as an independent characteristic, esssentially sexual and unre-
lated to morality. Over a period of several years Firenzuola had been
providing at Prato a series of lectures on and discussions of the nature
of beauty. His book, like The Book of the Courtier, is a record, again no
doubt suitably polished and embellished, of actual conversations with
real participants, who, in this case however, are concealed behind ficti-
tious names, Firenzuola taking the name of Celso Selvaggio.47 There is
an agreeable informality and naturalism about the discussions which
indicate that one is indeed in touch with real people expressing genuine
opinions. Firenzuola (under his pseudonym of Celso) constantly
expresses amused irritation when, just as he is talking about the shape
of female breasts, the women go out of their way to conceal their own.
Some of the qualities of informality and naturalism are apparent in Nic-
colo Franco's Dialogue on Beauty (1542) and Lodovico Domenichi's The
Nobility of Women (1549), both of which deal with real living contem-
poraries and not simply abstractions, and, to a lesser degree, The Book
of the Beautiful Women (1554) by Federigo Luigini and The Chief Beau-
ties of Women (1566) by Niccolo Campani.48 Rather different are the
books simply designed to instruct painters on how to achieve the effects
of perfect beauty, such as the famous work of Giovan Giorgio Trissino.49
Even Firenzuola's Dialogue provides some elements of this kind of
instruction, which is not directly relevant to this study, but in fact he
does agreeably distance himself from such abstract discourse when he
says: 'There are many other measurements which, however, are of no
importance and as Nature even rarely conforms to them, we will leave
them to the painters, who with a stroke of the brush more or less, may
44 IT

lengthen or shorten them as seems good to them'.50 This is the best

riposte I know to all the assertions about beauty requiring that the
height of the forehead should be as one-third to two-thirds for the rest
of the face, etc., etc.
Although the exchanges from The Book of the Courtier already quoted
referred to beauty in both men and women, a previous discussion in the
same book had discussed the medieval precept which undoubtedly con-
tinued to hold sway in most circles throughout the Renaissance and for
a long period thereafter: 'Methinke well beawty is more necessarie in her
then in the Courtier, for (to saye the truth) there is a great lacke in the
woman that wanteth beawtie'.51 The very fact that all the books men-
tioned indicate in their titles that their prime concern is with the beauty
of women shows how firmly their authors were constrained by the exist-
ing convention; but I do want to bring out the extent to which beauty
is being treated as pertinent to men as well as to women. In Firenzuola's
Dialogue, Celso, responding to a question from one of the women,
declares that it is proper for women to contemplate the beauty of men
and for men to contemplate the beauty of women, concluding 'when we
are speaking of beauty in general, we mean your beauty, and our
beauty', but then adds that a particular concern will be with what he
calls the more delicate beauty of women.52 In their discussions of the
proper portions of the body, both Firenzuola and Niccolo Franco refer
as much to men as to women. Firenzuola observes along the way that a
shapely nose is as important for a man as it is for a woman,53 while
Franco has a brief description of the proper styling of the beard.54 Fur-
thermore the first part of Franco's work actually concludes with
glorifications of the beauty of two men, Alfonso Davalo and the French
invader, King Charles VIII (1470-98). However there is a continuance of
the medieval tradition in that other qualities such as strength, diligence
and intellect are integrated into the descriptions of physical features,
and in the strong elements of sheer flattery.55 Domenichi is entirely con-
ventional in declaring that women are more beautiful than men, but
he does recognise that certain physical characteristics in men will be
attractive to women.56
What is most significant in Firenzuola is that beauty and sexual grati-
fication are presented as good ends in themselves, without any need to
link one to godliness and condemn the other. For beauty, he says, Ve
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 45

see a man forget himself; and on beholding a face graced with this celes-
tial gift, his limbs will quake, his hair stand on end, and he will sweat
and shiver at the same time'.57 Beauty, this natural attribute, the 'celes-
tial gift', is very much not something merely in the eye of the beholder,
a matter of subjective judgement:
When we speak of a beautiful woman we mean one whom all alike admire,
and not this one or that one only; thus Nova, so ill-favoured as she is,
appears most pleasing in the sight of her Tomaso, albeit she is as uncomely
as she possibly can be ... a lady fair in all points, like yourself, must nec-
essarily be pleasing to all, as you are; albeit few are pleasing to you, as I
know full well.58
The phrase I have italicised, spoken with personal feeling as Celso
addresses the gorgeous Madonna Selvaggia, brings out again Firen-
zuola's recognition that women too can be fussy about beauty in the
opposite sex. More than a century later the French social commentator,
La Bruyere, expressed women's liking for beauty in men with great cyn-
icism:
A vain, indiscreet, garrulous and vulgar man, who speaks confidently of
his faith and of others with contempt, impetuous, haughty, conceited,
lacking in morals and probity, with a crippled mind, bad judgement and
free imagination, he needs nothing more in order to be thorougly adored
by women than to have a beautiful face and a fine figure.59
The attitudes towards beauty which, in all their ambiguity, dominated
the early modern period are, as one might expect, most neatly encapsu-
lated in one pregnant line by William Shakespeare. At the end of Act I
of As You Like It (written in the closing years of the sixteenth century),
Celia and Rosalind decide to flee from the court of the wicked uncle
who has usurped the throne.
Rosalind Why whither shall we go?
Celia To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
Rosalind Alas! What danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forthe so far?
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold!
Celia I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.60
46 IT

Beautiful women attract assailants; plain ones on the whole do not.

The line 'Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold' captures both the
power of beauty and, through the association with thieves, its danger-
ous, even disreputable quality. In Shakespeare's time, of course, both
Rosalind and Celia were played by young male actors. Only from the
i66os were female roles on stage consistently and continuously played
by women. This in itself was an important, if relatively small, step in a
more candid evaluation of beauty in both sexes. There then came to be
a different kind of resonance about the disguises adopted by Rosalind
and Celia. A gorgeous actress would be no less fetching for having a
besmirched face nor, still less for, as in Rosalind's case, being dressed as
a page boy. Popular Restoration and eighteenth-century plays frequently
contained a part (for actresses who specialised in this role) which
required the adoption at some point of masculine disguise: this pro-
vided the opportunity for the actress to show off, and the audience to
appreciate, the shape of her legs.61
Naturally, the perception of beauty as a desirable commodity in its
own right did not suddenly disappear with the collapse of the Italian city
states: in secure, affluent environments (for example the courts of
Louis XIV and Louis XV, or the great houses of some of the most emi-
nent English aristocrats) beauty could be an independent characteristic
of great value to its possessor. But the publication of dialogues openly
praising sexual beauty ceased; mistrust and moralising took over.62 For
almost all sections of society in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
life was too serious for beauty to play a significant role. For families at
the top of the social scale, as also in the relatively comfortable middle,
the most pressing requirement was the consolidation or improvement
of social status, and the acquisition of a beautiful spouse did not auto-
matically secure that.
Squire Allworthy in Tom Jones, by the eighteenth-century English
novelist and magistrate Henry Fielding, was all in favour of marriage
being founded on love: he regarded as equally deplorable parental com-
pulsion, avarice for a great fortune, snobbery for a title and lust for a
beautiful person.63 The wisdom, and the fears and prejudices, of the day
had been well summed up at the very beginning of the century by Mrs
Mary Astell, a prolific commentator on proper and improper behaviour,
in Some Reflections on Marriage of 1700. Choice in marriage, she says
 PLATO, A U G U S T I N E AND MRS ASTELL 47

quite reasonably, should be 'guided by Reason', as against what, rather

heatedly, she calls 'Humour or brutish Passion'. What, she asks, 'Do
men propose to themselves in Marriage?', and quickly answers: 'What
will she bring is the first enquiry. How many Acres? Or how much ready
Coin?' Mrs Astell, a true daughter of her time, does not altogether dis-
approve, 'for Marriage without a Competency ... is no very comfortable
condition'. A few pages later comes an immensely rich passage, whose
heavy mistrust of beauty makes a fitting note on which to end this chap-
ter, which has brought our study of traditional evaluations of beauty
from Ancient Greece up to the eighteenth century:
But suppose a man does not Marry for Money, though for one that does
not, perhaps there are thousands that do; let him Marry for Love, and
Heroick Action, which makes a mighty noise in the World, partly because
of its rarity, and partly in regard of its extravagancy, and what does his
Marrying for Love amount to? There's no great odds between his Marry-
ing for the Love of Money, or for the Love of Beauty, the Man does not
Act according to Reason in either Case; but is governed by irregular
Appetites.64
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 3

Kings and Concubines

Prevailing ideas about how far, and in what senses, beauty should be val-
ued obviously affected how far, if at all, beautiful individuals were able
to cash in on their looks. One gigantic problem is that in the more
remote periods (the sixteenth century and earlier, say) it is very difficult
to be sure just exactly what any one particular person looked like. Stick-
ing to my fundamental point that beauty, in individuals that we will
ourselves never see, is very largely to be recognised by the reactions it
provoked in other people at the time, I consider that the handful of
women (and the odd man) reputed the great beauties of their age pretty
certainly were great beauties (I do not, remember, accept the unexam-
ined cliche that each age constructs its own ideal of beauty), though I
always seek corroboration in the visual, as well as the detailed written
evidence. Among 'reputed great beauties' were Veronica Franco, six-
teenth-century Venetian courtesan; Gabrielle d'Estrees (mistress of
Henry IV, Bourbon King of France, 1589—1610), known to many of us
through the double portrait in the Louvre of her and her sister, bosoms
boldly exposed; Madame de Montespan, who was readily tempted into
the bed of Louis XIV, and Fran^oise Marguerite de Sevigny, who was
not; Marion de Lome, high-class courtesan, 'the marvel of her age' (the
mid seventeenth century) with 'the body of Aphrodite';1 Lucy Walter,
mistress of the prince who was to become Charles II; Barbara Villiers
and Hortense Mancini, among the many mistresses of the King who was
Charles II; Madame Du Barry, mistress of Louis XV. Among men with
analogous reputations were: Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex, who
touched the heartstrings of his Queen, Elizabeth I; George Villiers, Duke
of Buckingham, who touched those of his King, James I; the Marquis de
Cinq-Mars, protege of Richelieu, madly loved by Marion de Lome and
dozens of other women; James, Duke of Monmouth, Pretender to the
English throne; John Churchill, successful soldier who became Duke of
5O IT

Marlborough. Those women rated stunning beauties in some circles

inevitably incurred hostility and jealousy in others, and so had their
detractors: I reserve for further scrutiny such women as: Louise de la
Valliere, Ninon de Lenclos, Nell Gwyn, Madame de Pompadour.
None of the six wives of Henry VIII can assuredly be described as a
reputed beauty, though, in at least three cases, the evidence in is confl-
ict. Thanks to the brilliant work by Sir Roy Strong and others in the
authentication, or the opposite, of portraits, we have a firmer base than
ever before for making judgements, though sometimes we are left with
only one authenticated portrait for each wife, and that frequently in a
rather austere and colourless style, so that we may be left puzzling over
whether a face is simply quietly well-proportioned, but otherwise rather
plain, or whether it manifests the very fundamentals of beauty. Fortu-
nately I have the conclusions of present-day historical experts to draw
on, though sometimes those at the popular end of the market resort to
the reassuring, bet-hedging cliche. On Anne Boleyn, Alison Weir writes
that while 'not pretty', she had 'that indefinable quality, sex appeal'.2 I
must confess to having little patience with 'indefinable qualities'.
Undoubtedly sex appeal can be found in people who are not beautiful,
though whether it has the universal and immediate impact of physical
beauty may be questioned. If we can recognise it, surely we can identify
the possible ways in which it can be attained. From time to time, the
posh English Sunday newspapers publish (inconclusive) articles about
the alleged secret odours which (in a woman) make men (or in a man,
women) their sex slaves. More basically, certain women are reputed to
'turn tricks', certain men to be 'sexual athletes' or possessed of excep-
tional endowment. These, presumably, are thoroughly definable
elements of sex appeal. Many women have ways of indicating - through
walk, use of eyes, lips, hips, voice, display of cleavage, of thighs - a
profound interest in sex, perhaps a readiness to 'turn tricks'.
It is certainly an observable fact that a woman who knows herself to
be less than beautiful may put extra effort into hinting at a possible
readiness for sex. Sometimes what is meant by 'indefinable sex appeal'
is a selection of the other qualities which endear a woman to a man:
style, elegance, wit, intelligence, talent, understanding and compassion.
This, however, seems to be to stretching the term 'sex appeal' into
meaninglessness, rather as, traditionally, the word 'beauty' has been
 K I N G S AND CONCUBINES 51

stretched into meaninglessness. In a man without beauty, sex appeal

may consist in some or all of the following: great height, great strength,
strongly masculine attitudes and behaviour, assiduous attention to a
woman's needs and interests, a comedic personality, a highly romantic
outlook. The possession of power by a man is said to be a sexual turn-
on for some women - the possession of power by a woman, to date, not
seeming to have the same effect on men; my own suspicion is that the
attraction of power is often rather akin to that of wealth, it's the fringe
benefits it brings that count, rather than any special sexual excitation
inherent in power itself. Anyway, I'm keen to drive home once again my
determination to isolate beauty as a quality in its own right, and then to
be as precise as possible about any other qualities which may add to a
person's attractiveness. One caution must constantly be kept in mind:
men, deplorable creatures that they are, will often jump at the offer of
bed and board without finding the woman concerned particularly
attractive - the circumstances which get him into bed, or even a rela-
tionship, may not be 'indefinable sex appeal' but just lust or loneliness.
It cannot be claimed that looks played much part in the winning of
thrones, though a good presence - as with Henry VIII, Louis XIV,
Charles II, Louis XV - could be a positive asset. 'Queens', Lady Antonia
Fraser has told us, 'were not expected to be great beauties.'3 In the rare
cases where they ruled in their own right, royal blood was what counted;
as consorts they were selected for their value as diplomatic pawns. The
young Prince Henry, later Henry VIII, had actually complained that it
is 'the fate of princes to be in marriages of far worse sort than the con-
dition of poor men. Princes take as is brought them by others, and poor
men commonly at their own choice'.4 Actually Henry did make his own
choices. What he wanted was a comfortable marriage and a male heir;
his lust for beauty he satisfied inconspicuously with a succession of
short-term mistresses. At other courts, beautiful women could, with
patience and skill, aspire to considerable worldly success as mistress of
the king, but, at all courts, were very unwise even to think about becom-
ing queen. Queen Elizabeth I was already in her late thirties when she
began to sit for the portraits we are familiar with. However, the one
early portrait of her, aged thirteen (actually a common marriage age for
royal and aristocratic females) does, in contrast to an early one of her
decidedly plain elder half-sister, the future Queen Mary, suggest the
52 IT

irony that, as a young queen she was definitely beautiful.5 Ironical

because, though her beauty entitled her to a happy marriage to the
handsome object of her love, Robert Dudley, reasons of state prevented
this; and because she is usually remembered as the rather sad painted
and bewigged old maid of the later years of her reign.
If that sounds like a poisonous compound of ageism and sexism, then
I fear that in a study of beauty ageing is not a factor that can be ignored;
we are constantly coming up against it, not least in the lives of Henry
VIII's six wives. The first, Catherine of Aragon, was betrothed, sight
unseen, to Henry's elder brother, Prince Arthur. The father of Arthur
and Henry, Henry VII, was desperate for an alliance with Spain, yet
when Catherine finally arrived in England he insisted on inspecting her
personally (to check her potential as a breeder of heirs) before allowing
the marriage to go ahead. She was nearly sixteen, pleasant-faced, plump-
ish, and with the intense appeal of young girlhood. Arthur was just
fifteen, and (despite myths) was actually handsome and healthy enough;
yet, such were the risks of the time, he was ill and dead within the year.
With Henry VII dead, and his second son now Henry VIII, the latter,
by his own choice, married Catherine. At twenty-three the face was less
pleasing, the plumpness more pronounced; however, at eighteen Henry
was contented enough, and desperate for Spanish support in his war
against France. But Catherine failed to produce the urgently needed
male heir; furthermore, as Alison Weir puts it succinctly, her 'gradually
fading looks were brought increasingly into contrast by the maturing
beauty of her younger husband'.6 Meantime Henry had become infatu-
ated with Anne Boleyn, whose dark colouring did not conform to the
courtly conventions already noted, and whose social status rendered her
an inappropriate consort for a king. By my own rules I have to deny her
the accolade of beauty - there are many contemporary criticisms of her
appearance,7 and the one portrait in the National Portrait Gallery is so
austere as to be, at best, inconclusive; additionally, I have to record the
melancholy fact that (while I personally suspect that she was, in youth,
beautiful in a convention-defying way) her looks quickly faded.8 She
would have been wise to settle for being a specially favoured mistress
instead of playing for the highest stakes. Henry succumbed. Having
divorced Catherine, he married Anne, but she too failed to produce the
crucial male heir. On trumped up charges of sexual misbehaviour,
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 53

perversely at a time when quite palpably she was no longer sexually

appealing, Henry had her executed. Her successor, Jane Seymour, it is
universally agreed, presented Henry with a welcome contrast to Anne,
being modest and demure and, while quite personable, lacking in any
claim to outstanding physical allure. Jane gave the king what should
have guaranteed her a long reign, the male heir he so desired (the future
Edward VI), but herself died a few days later. Henry had been in love
with Jane, and did not immediately seek a replacement. None the less,
the search was soon on for a queen who would serve Henry well on the
international stage, cementing his position as a champion of Protes-
tantism. Thus the king's advisers lighted on Anne of Cleves; Henry was
enthusiastic about the idea, but, unfortunately, on first sight of Anne,
took an instant dislike to her. Thus the legend grew up that she was
physically repulsive (she did have an unpleasant body odour),9 that writ-
ten accounts of her appearance were unreliable, and the portrait of her
which Hans Holbein was specially dispatched to paint for Henry's
benefit was overly flattering. Taking all the evidence together, and
reminding ourselves that repulsiveness is in the eyes of all beholders just
as much as beauty is, we have to conclude that Anne was quite person-
able - and that Henry's aversion was personal to him. Anne was
divorced, and treated reasonably well thereafter.10 Again Henry turned
back to the English court and, now a fat, unsavoury fifty year old, mar-
ried the teenage niece of the Duke of Norfolk, Catherine Howard. She
was the wife Henry loved most (though the visual evidence does not
show her appearance to be a great improvement on that of Anne of
Cleves), but he was correspondingly offended by the discovery of her
platonic affair with courtier, Thomas Culpepper, and so had her exe-
cuted. Henry was now ready for a mature bride, twice married, just
thirty something - Catherine Parr, herself in love with the beautiful Sir
Thomas Seymour, brother of Jane. Despite her age, Catherine was, on
the evidence of a recently authenticated portrait,11 quite certainly the
only one among the six wives to rival the young Anne Boleyn in having
claims to beauty. She wanted to marry Seymour and did not want to
marry smelly old Henry. Her beauty brought her tragedy in that she had
to give up the love of her life; but she was a dignified queen with con-
siderable influence over the continually developing Protestant
settlement; and, thanks to a wise and patient strategy, she survived.12
54 IT

The mother of Louis XIV, the formidable Marie de' Medicis, who had
brought a vast dowry to the debt-ridden Henry IV, was, as the many
portraits demonstrate, fat and plain. Louis, too, performed his dynastic
duty, marrying the daughter of Philip IV, King of Spain, Maria Teresa,
who was short, fat and ugly. Her royal status and the power of Spain
had made her Queen of France, but she had no hope of holding the
marital attentions of the King. The maitresse declaree (or maitresse en
litre) for most of the i66os was a shy, reticent girl of, by court standards,
low social status (she was from the minor nobility and had suffered the
double blow, not so much that first her father, then her father-in-law,
had died, but that before doing so, each had amassed substantial debts),
Louise de la Valliere, who had come to the court as maid-of-honour to
the King's sister-in-law, Henrietta of England. By the second half of the
decade, as contemporaries remarked, Louise was being strongly chal-
lenged for the King's favour by a woman four years older than herself,
Madame Fran^oise de Montespan.13 By birth Madame de Montespan
was a Mortemart, one of the oldest families of France. By the end of the
decade Fran^oise had supplanted Louise. The two best-known portraits
of Madame de Montespan are by mediocre artists (one literally
unknown, the other, Henri Gascar, so nearly unknown as makes no diff-
erence), which may explain the bland, sexless, sub-Venus de Milo
appearance in both; however, the portrait by the highly competent
Pierre Mignard shows a very striking and sensual woman. Two well-
known renderings of Mile de la Valliere, both enamels by Jean Petitot,
suffer from the medium and also, again, from being in the Grecian
mode. But for their conveyance of vivacity and freshness, they beat the
two mediocre Montespan portraits hands down.14 The truly lovely por-
trait of Louise, the Jean Nocret at Versailles, renders her by about the
same margin more beautiful than the Mignard Montespan.
The written testimony is far from conclusive, though, on balance, it
favours Madame de Montespan. What is clear is that the latter was
lively, witty and strong-willed in a way Mile de la Valliere was not; also
that she made a quite determined and calculated bid to oust Louise and
become chief mistress. The Prince de Conde said of Mme de Montes-
pan in November 1666 that 'no one could have more spirit or more
beauty'; an Italian gentleman at court, Primi Visconti, lyricised over her
'blonde hair, large azure blue eyes, well-formed aquiline nose, vermilion
 K I N G S AND CONCUBINES 55

mouth, beautiful teeth', making, 'in a word, a perfect face'.15 Was it per-
haps the eminence of the Mortemarts that was being admired, or did
Mme de Montespan more closely fit the courtly convention of the time?
(This was a time, we know, when conventions in beauty were of con-
siderable importance, though that doesn't mean everyone was taken in
by them.) There were many comments on the fresh beauty of Mile de
la Valliere, but the famous one by the Abbe de Choisy hits off the
impression that Louise stood outside the pale of courtly convention: she
was not, he said, 'one of those perfect beauties that one often admires
without loving' (a delicate way, I surmise, of referring to someone who
fulfils the arithmetic and the colour scheme but still fails to be beauti-
ful).16 The boring magistrate Olivier Lefevre d'Ormesson, keeper of a
massive journal, found Louise 'not at all beautiful', but 'skinny' (she was
certainly slim), with 'a long face' and 'nose too wide at the bottom' (this
actually agrees with the fetching Nocret portrait). But d'Ormesson, who
had been scorned by the King, was a supporter of the Queen. He later
refers to Mme de Montepan's power, but not at all to her looks.17
(Because he disliked her too? Or because they were not so remarkable?
- I don't know).
It may well be that Louis, with so much choice on easy offer, could
see beyond the conventions which bound sycophantic observers and
appreciate, as we would today, the more unusual beauty of Louise. What
he also appreciated (I stress this, since I want to bring out the balance
between beauty and other qualities in affecting a person's life chances)
was the fact that Louise was a magnificent horsewoman; she was, in fact,
something of a tomboy (a characteristic at odds with the seventeenth-
century courtly image of womanhood) and, from a childhood accident,
resulting from a dangerous jumping game practised with her brother,
had the very faintest suspicion of a limp - a matter, inevitably, seized
upon by her detractors.18 In the end, the spirit, wit, determination and
confidence of Mme de Montespan won out over Louise, who twice
retired to a convent, being, the first time, deliberately brought back and
openly cherished by Louis, who created her duchess and recognised
their daughter, Marie-Anne. Finally retiring to a life of piety, Louise had
not done badly from her looks - certainly immeasurably better than
Anne Boleyn. Eventually, at fifty-two Louis fell for Marie Angelique de
Fontanges, an eighteen-year-old maid of honour to Henrietta. Every
56 IT

piece of evidence demonstrates that she was outstandingly beautiful,

though apparently rather stupid.19 As soon as she became pregnant
Louis made her a duchess, but the child was stillborn and she herself
never recovered. Of course, there were always hazards attached to
careers based on the granting of sexual favours.
Of all the women associated with Louis XIV, the one best known to
history is Madame de Maintenon, who, as Madame Scarron, had,
despite being poor, moved in intellectual circles in the 16505 and i66os;
even then, as a Mignard portrait indicates, she was no more than per-
sonable. But she attracted the attention and gratitude of the King by
looking after the children he had had by Mme de Montespan, and was
rewarded with the estate of Maintenon, and the title of marquise. As her
niece observed, Mme de Maintenon was welcomed by the Queen: unlike
the three women just discussed, she posed no threat.20
In later middle age, as the country was shaken by a series of poi-
soning scandals, the King turned towards a kind of evangelical
religiosity, reinforced by the death of the Queen in July 1683. The prim
and deeply religious Madame de Maintenon, three years older than
Louis, matched his mood exactly. She had been establishing a stronger
and stronger hold over him, and at some stage, possibly even as early
as 1683, they were secretly married. As is well known, the whole tone
of the later years of the reign of Louis was pervaded by the puritanism of
Mme de Maintenon. Looks had played no part in her triumph.
If we look back across the Channel to the court of Charles II matters
are more straightforward. In that environment beauty certainly brought
rewards. Charles's first mistress after the Restoration was Barbara Vil-
liers, Mrs Palmer. Charles created her husband Earl of Castlemaine so
that Barbara could have the rank of Lady Castlemaine. Financially she
did well out of Charles (or, more accurately, the public purse), and she
was able to ensure a secure future for her children. She was undoubt-
edly a woman of strong personality and great spirit, not only greatly
influencing Charles, but taking a number of other lovers even while
she was his mistress. The foundation of her career was the astonishing
Villiers good looks (an earlier, male, Villiers will be discussed shortly).
Later portraits from the studio of Sir Peter Lely tend to approximate to
the same stereotype, but the stunning one of 1663 was done when the
artist was still giving careful individual attention to his most important
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 57

clients. Of the many written tributes to her beauty,21 I want to focus on

those of the civil servant and celebrated diarist Samuel Pepys, a choice
representative of Vhomme moyen sensuel In Whitehall, seeing Lady
Castlemaine, he 'glutted' himself 'with looking at her', the 'only she', as
he put it on another occasion, 'I can observe for true beauty'. Several
years later he confessed to the best dream he ever had when with Bar-
bara in his bed he 'was admitted to use all the dalliance I desired with
her'. Most significant of all is the reflection, after seeing her at the the-
atre, that though he knows 'well enough she is a whore' - and it must
be stressed that he did recognise this, beauty not being confused here
with morality or truth - because of her beauty he is ready to think the
best of her and even to pity her.22 There was no possibility of Lady
Castlemaine becoming Queen. In accordance with dynastic imperatives,
in 1662 Charles married Catherine of Braganza, once more, as portraits
do not conceal (one suspects the artists of not trying very hard), a
dumpy and unattractive woman; but Barbara continued to influence
ministerial appointments in a way that the Queen simply did not.23
Many other beautiful women served as mistresses to the King and
were rewarded. While manifestly the crown itself provided the seduc-
tive magic, one element in Charles's successes with women was his own
striking physical appearance, along with his general good humour and
graciousness. While Louis XIV was short, Charles was six feet two
inches tall, a very considerable height for that age. His swarthy, sexual
looks are familiar from portraits. Madame de Motteville's description
of him as a young man matches the portraits and indicates that sort of
male appearance which, while definitely not beautiful, certainly has
impact: 'well-made, with a swarthy complexion agreeing well with his
fine black eyes, a large ugly mouth, graceful and dignified carriage, and
a fine figure'.24
We all know about Nell Gwyn, but none of us know for sure what she
looked like. Time was when art galleries happily displayed any number
of 'Nell Gwyns'; now the poor historian risks being crushed to death in
the stampede to deny that any portrait could possibly be of that notori-
ous lady. A further problem arises from the procedures followed in the
studio of Peter Lely. Already by 1661, when this Dutch-born artist was
appointed Court Painter to Charles II, Lely had developed a technique
of overemphasising the lower part of the eyelid which, when sensitively
58 IT

done, gave his sitters a slumberingly sensuous look. But soon 'Lely' por-
traits, often in several copies, were being manufactured at great speed
by his many assistants. The well-known and much-reproduced portrait
sold as a postcard and slide by the National Portrait Gallery, London,
dates from the mid 16/os when the eyelid trick had become an ugly
mannerism producing protuberant eyeballs. Nell may well not have
been the sitter;25 certainly it has to be doubted if this representation can
be taken as a good likeness. Nell, the humble tart who consorted with
royalty, has not been well treated by the British establishment. To the
less than stunning image purveyed by the National Portrait Gallery must
be added the insult offered by the Dictionary of National Biography. 'She
appears to be low in stature and plump, to have had hair of reddish
brown. Her foot was diminutive, and her eyes when she laughed became
all but invisible.' The source for this is the highly dubious Memoirs of
the Life of Eleanour Gwinn published in the middle of the eighteenth
century.26 The jibe about the smallness of her eyes is utterly inconsistent
with the over-prominence given them in the National Portrait Gallery
'Lely', and the total impression is much at odds with Pepys's repeated
emphasis on her 'prettiness', Madame D'Aulnoys's admiration for her
figure, and the fact that on stage she could successfully impersonate a
male gallant. Because there was so much emphasis on her wit, her vivac-
ity and gaiety, it may be wise to conclude that she was highly personable
rather than ravishingly beautiful, but near enough to beauty for her
appearance indeed to have been a crucial asset.
By 1667 Nell Gwyn was an established comic actress and had become
briefly the mistress of Lord Buckhurst. Charles already had on his team
a pretty actress, Moll Davis; late in 1667 he signed on Nell, who from
then on played an important part in the life of the King, though as a for-
mer actress from origins still more humble, she could not be maitresse
en titre. That role, as Charles tired of Lady Castlemaine (though she con-
tinued to enjoy public benefits, receiving a personal title as Duchess of
Cleveland in 1670), went to Louise de Keroualle, twenty-one-year-old
daughter of an ancient Breton family and maid of honour (yet another
one!) to Charles's sister, Henrietta. Louise had a baby face and haughty
aristocratic manners. It took Charles a year to seduce her. Louise's son
by Charles was legitimised as Charles Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, and
she herself in 1673 became Duchess of Portsmouth. Briefly her position
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 59

was shaken by the arrival of a woman who, even more than Barbara
Villiers, had used her personal beauty to lead a life as liberated as was
possible for any woman in that age. Hortense Mancini was the niece of
the powerful French statesman Cardinal Mazarin. Sensitive no doubt to
the dangerous emotions her great beauty aroused, he married her to the
Marquis de la Meilleraye, making over to him a substantial fortune and
the title of Due de Mazarin. Unfortunately the newly created duke was
quite mad, a sad punishment,27 though an appropriate one, some no
doubt thought, for exceptional beauty. Hortense escaped and boldly
travelled all over Europe, skilfully exploiting the devastating effect she
had on men. Her first great love was the Duke of Savoy, with whom she
spent three years. The second was Charles (she arrived in England in
1675). But this affair was in full flood for only three months, after which
Hortense simply joined the team, with a generous pension till the end
of her days, while the Duchess of Portsmouth was restored as principal
mistress, her main rival thereafter being the popular Nell Gwyn.
Mobbed in Oxford by a crowd who mistook her for the hated Catholic
royal mistress, Nell put her head out of the coach window, crying: 'Pray,
good people, be civil; I am the Protestant whore.' Charles's mistresses
did well out of their looks; the more high-born were raised in status and
were able to provide security for their offspring. Nell did well also,
Charles supporting her in her great extravagances, and creating their
first son Duke of St Albans. However, Charles's very first mistress, Lucy
Walter, fulfilled that part of popular lore which charges that beauty can
only bring tragedy (she certainly demonstrated one truism: better an
ugly old king than a handsome young claimant). She had given birth to
the son, James (later Duke of Monmouth), who was one of Charles's
own favourites, but she herself lost all contact with him and died a
miserable death in 1658 at the age of around twenty-eight.
This draws our attention to an important point. One cannot predict
that a person born beautiful will automatically enjoy happiness and suc-
cess. What one can predict is that their lives are likely to be different
from those led by the less comely. For good or ill they will draw atten-
tion to themselves: they will have opportunities not open to others.
What is made of these opportunities will depend on other personal
qualities, and on circumstance. Beauty affects life experiences rather than
necessarily life chances. This is brought out rather sharply by the careers
60 IT

of certain male beauties of the period. Let us go back to the reign of

James I, and to 1614 when James, then forty-seven, met George Villiers,
then twenty-two. Villiers was an extraordinarily handsome and highly
sexed young man, quite happy to exploit James's rampant homosexual-
ity. His physical presence gave him power over women and also
heterosexual men; but now it was the King's favour that counted most,
enabling Villiers to establish himself at the centre of a web of patronage
which brought him good profits. In 1616 he was appointed Master of
the Horse, dubbed a Knight of the Garter and created Viscount Villiers.
The following year James conferred an earldom on him, giving this
charming explanation to the Lords of the Counsel:
I, James, am neither God nor an angel, but a man like any other. There-
fore I act like a man, and confess to loving those dear to me more than
other men. You may be sure that I love the Earl of Buckingham more than
anyone else, and more than you who are here assembled. I wish to speak
on my own behalf, and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus
Christ did the same and therefore I cannot be blamed. Jesus had his John,
and I have my George.28
Buckingham shortly became a marquis and then, eventually, a duke,
receiving the only dukedom granted outside the blood royal between
1485 and 1660. Meantime he captivated the utterly heterosexual heir to
the throne, Charles (later Charles I). As well as charm, Buckingham had
much skill and cunning, but in devising the scheme whereby he and
Charles went to Spain in search of a Spanish consort for Charles he
showed how far arrogant self-confidence could outrun political judge-
ment. The scheme was a humiliating fiasco; none the less, even after the
accession of Charles I in 1625, Buckingham remained the single greatest
influence in the kingdom. But for arrogant beauty, Nemesis was at
hand: to wide rejoicing, Buckingham was assassinated in 1628.
Something very close to an action replay took place a decade later in
France, though on a rather more heroic scale. Under the regency of
Marie de' Medicis and, more critically, in the early years of the reign of
Louis XIII, the man who steadily concentrated power in his own hands
was Bishop, and later Cardinal Richelieu, a highly active heterosexual,
who, however, warmed to the delicately featured Henri d'Effiat, created
Marquis de Cinq-Mars. As part of his scheme to dominate the sickly
King, Richelieu pushed Cinq-Mars forward as a court favourite, Louis
 KINGS AND C O N C U B I N E S 6l

being completely captivated by this beautiful young man whose real

talents, in fact, lay in seducing women: Marion de Lome was madly
in love with him, provoking the jealousy of the King, and the mother of
Cinq-Mars to bringing accusations of rape against Marion.29 Like
Buckingham before him, Cinq-Mars came to feel himself all-conquering
and invulnerable. In 1641 he joined the Spanish government in a con-
spiracy to assassinate his former patron, Richelieu, and take over power
in Paris. Cinq-Mars and his cronies were no match for the Cardinal's
espionage system. Nemesis once again overtook overweening male
beauty: Cinq-Mars was executed.
Three dead swallows do not make a winter; still, let us look at the
third in the gorgeous, tragic trio. The early pages of Madame d'Aulnoy's
memoirs of the British court are dominated by Charles's son by Lucy
Walter, James, Duke of Monmouth. As portraits show, he had inherited
the beauty of his mother. Madame d'Aulnoy wrote admiringly that he
had many mistresses, but that men also admired his beauty.30 Mon-
mouth lived the life of a brutal rowdy, interspersed with hectic periods
of soldiering. Yet he had the gift of gaining the sympathy and support
of his social inferiors, a gift greatly aided by personal beauty, but not
created by it alone. He won a striking victory over rebellious Scottish
Covenanters in 1679, and then good repute for the clemency he showed
to the defeated. Charles II died unexpectedly in February 1685, to be suc-
ceeded by his openly Catholic brother, James II. Monmouth, an
uncompromising Protestant, resigned himself to what seemed likely to
be a long exile in Brussels. Yet within months (on 11 June to be precise)
he had landed at Lyme Regis on the Dorset coast to head a rebellion
against James. Though he rallied considerable support in the West
Country, he was soon defeated and, on 11 July, beheaded on Tower Hill
as a traitor. To get these events, and the place of Monmouth's looks in
them, into perspective, we have to go back to 1680 when the Earl of
Shaftesbury, seeing the possibility of making Monmouth the puppet of
the Whig grandees who wished to exclude James from the throne, delib-
erately organised for him a kind of royal 'progress' through the West
Country. Looks were important here: Monmouth could only gain in
popularity through being shown off. The Whig conspirators continued
to work on Monmouth, appealing both to his religious principles and
to his vanity. He was impeccably qualified to raise a movement of the
62 IT

poor to middling interests in the West, but lacked the organisational

skills and the decisiveness (he fumbled any chance of seizing Bristol) to
lead them to victory.31 Had he done so, he would be one of the heroes
of British history. That he had that opportunity was due to a combina-
tion of birth and beauty. But consider: had Lucy Walter herself not been
beautiful, and had her looks not been bequeathed to her son, would
there have been a Monmouth's rebellion?
It is a relief to turn to a man who did manage to use his good looks
to get him started on the road to the highest peaks of success. John
Churchill's career began in service to James, Duke of York, later the
James II Monmouth rebelled against. At twenty-one, Churchill, with his
slim elegant figure, brilliant grey-green eyes, long eyelashes and long fair
hair, noble nose and well-proportioned features, almost merits the
adjective 'pretty', save that the word is too weak for the powerful impact
he had on those around him. It was at this age that he was taken up by
Barbara Villiers, now twenty-nine and Duchess of Cleveland. Although
the King himself acknowledged her daughter Barbara, born in 1672, the
father was almost certainly Churchill.32 The proposition that Churchill
owed the financial security upon which he built his subsequent glorious
career to the loving generosity of Barbara Villiers is based on the testi-
mony of the fourth Earl of Chesterfield, writing to his son in 1748, but
seems plausible - the receipt for the annuity which Churchill purchased
certainly exists, and there would not appear to be any other possible
source for the purchasing price than Villiers, known to have been very
generous towards those with whom she was enamoured. Marlborough
the great general and national hero obviously called on many other
qualities than those of personal appearance. The only point being sug-
gested here is that Marlborough's beauty brought him the security and
independence of a regular income upon which he was able to build his
political and military career, and that that security might well not have
come any other way. Indeed it seems possible to venture the generalisa-
tion, perhaps an obvious one, that beauty has its most critical effects in
the early stages of a career, other qualities then becoming increasingly
important; but between getting a start and not getting a start there can
sometimes be the whole difference.
If we move to Madame de Pompadour and Madame Du Barry, we
come to the heart of some of the main issues this book is intended to
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 63

explore. Neither was of noble birth, but the former was extremely rich
and had powerful connections and an exceptionally good education,
while the latter was extremely poor, dependent on the charity of the
church for her education, and, indeed, a classic instance of the woman
whose sole asset is her looks. But what of the looks of Jeanne Antoinette
Poisson, born in Paris in 1721 and later the Marquise de Pompadour?
The problems are similar to those with Nell Gwyn, though in this case
we do have a dozen or more thoroughly authenticated portraits. Many
of us are familiar with those by Fra^ois Boucher, very regal, very dig-
nified, but showing a woman whose face is just too pinched, whose nose
is just slightly too beaky and chin just slightly too weak to be beautiful.
Now, almost all of these were painted when Madame de Pompadour
was reaching the peak of her power, but passing the peak of her physi-
cal attractiveness. Earlier authenticated portraits, however, indicate the
same personable, but scarcely beautiful, features. Paintings presenting an
alluring young woman, once casually labelled 'Madame de Pompadour'
have now been discredited. The stale argument that Pompadour as ren-
dered by Boucher represented the ideal of beauty of the day is
completely subverted by the large number of Bouchers featuring truly
luscious young women, not differing one whit from one of the types
which we find beautiful today. There are many written tributes to the
beauty of Madame de Pompadour, while foreign observers expressed
surprise at her lack of looks. There is a long, flattering, but, if we read
it carefully, revealing description by Georges Leroy, Lieutenant of the
Hunt at Versailles.33 Leroy stresses noble deportment and facial expres-
siveness, speaking of the 'fire', 'spirit' and 'brilliance' of her eyes. Then
comes the key sentence: 'She absolutely extinguished all the other
women at the Court, although some were very beautiful.' Madame de
Pompadour, I conclude, was not 'very beautiful', but had spirit and
vivacity which rendered her very attractive. She also had a trove of
appealing talents.
Without extreme good fortune in birth and upbringing, however,
Mile Poisson would neither have been able to develop these talents to
the full, nor have been in a position to exploit either them, or her qual-
ities of vivacity and personableness. When her wealthy father had to go
into temporary exile following a financial scandal, four-year-old Jeanne
Antoinette was taken into the guardianship of the powerful and wealthy
64 IT

M. le Normant de Tournehem, who provided her with the best educa-

tion obtainable, so that she developed into an immensely cultivated
young woman, a lively conversationalist and brilliant musical per-
former. He also provided her with a husband in the form of his nephew
Paul le Normant de Tournehem or le Normant d'Etioles, as he now
styled himself, whose reluctant agreement may suggest that he found her
less than irresistably beautiful. With the marriage (March 1741, when she
was nineteen) came a substantial income, an elegant Paris address, the
Chateau d'Etioles in the Forest of Senart and the fine-sounding name of
Madame d'Etioles. At Etioles she built her own theatre, where she
became famous for her dramatic and musical presentations. In Paris
she was on show in the salons and at supper parties.
The events which followed are explicable only as part of a deliberate
campaign by Mme d'Etioles to establish herself as mistress to the King,
Louis XV, a campaign she waged with courage and resourcefulness.
Louis regularly went hunting in the Forest of Senart, so, to attract his
attention, she took to following the hunt in a brightly coloured chaise.
She adopted the same tactics in Paris, where she would ensconce herself
at the theatre in full view of the King. The climax came in 1745 when a
series of masked balls were held in honour of the marriage of the
Dauphin. Under cover of the festivities, Mme d'Etioles succeeded in lur-
ing the rather timid Louis into her bed. Shortly afterwards she was
acknowledged as maitresse en litre and given the title of Marquise de
Pompadour. For almost twenty years, till her death on 15 April 1764, she
was in all but name Queen of France, with a strong influence over affairs
of state - almost entirely for the worse. On the other hand, she played
the leading part in maintaining the high aesthetic standards of the court.
That the King had taken a bourgeoise as maitresse en litre was quite
shocking, though so cultured were Pompadour's graces, and so regal her
style, that criticism was muted. The woman who eventually took her
place and reigned as maitresse en lilre until the King's death came from
an altogether lower social position, a fatherless child from the provinces.
Educated by the church, Jeanne Becu was, at fifteen, given employment
as a companion to the widow of a tax-collector. The first description we
have of her is at age sixteen when we are told 'she was already built to
ravish; a figure both lithe and noble; an oval face as if drawn with a paint
brush; large eyes, clearly set apart, with that slumberous glance, which
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 65

made them a constant invitation to love; lovely mouth; small feet; hair
so abundant that I could not have held it in my two hands'.34 With such
looks there were two obvious careers for Mile Becu: she could go into
the theatre, where, however, the pay was tiny, or non-existent, or she
could serve in an elegant shop, patronised by rich Parisians always on
the lookout for beautiful potential mistresses. Becu, at the age of seven-
teen in fact took employment as a vendeuse in the select fashion shop
Labille, in rue Neuve-des-Petis-Champs. Jeanne attracted enormous
attention, and her potential was appreciated by at least two commercial
specialists in female beauty: Madame Gourdan, a well-established pro-
curess, and Jean Du Barry, always known, accurately, as le Roue'.
Jeanne, now calling herself Jeanne Beauvarnier, because it sounded
grander, became the mistress of Du Barry, who was not so much inter-
ested in his own pleasure as in the hard cash value of such an
outstanding beauty. The police were interested as well, and in their jour-
nal of 19 December 1764, two inspectors reported of Mile Beauvarnier;
'She is a person nineteen years old, tall, well-made and of distinguished
appearance, with a most lovely face'.35
She could not attract the attention of the King with quite the elegant
panache shown by Mme d'Etioles, but she deliberately made visits to
Versailles, positioning herself so as to be noticed by him. Here there is
no question but that physical beauty was the sole, unalloyed element in
the chemistry which followed. The King, now fifty-eight, did notice
Jeanne and instructed his valet-de-chamber to find out more about her.
Jean Du Barry acted as the middleman, making the profit he had always
counted on; as the King found Mile Beauvarnier in all respects to his
pleasure, Du Barry, in fulfilment of the King's requirements in the
matter (he didn't wish to be lumbered with illegitimate children),
had Jeanne married to his own brother, Count Guillaume Du Barry, in
July 1768. In April 1769, Mme Du Barry was formally presented at the
Versailles Court, remaining mahresse-en-titre till the King's death in
1774. Her lower-class origins and lack of aristocratic graces meant that
she continued to be a subject of scandal to a degree that Pompadour
never was, and it is significant that she was never elevated beyond the
title which, for convenience, she had already acquired as the Comtesse
Du Barry.
Du Barry, in almost every way, represents the idea of human beauty
66 IT

as itself, not something else: she pioneered the greatest simplicity of

dress, making absolutely the most of her natural attributes, and, to the
great vexation of older women, she put no powder on her hair. But it
would be wrong to discount the personal qualities which she did possess.
She was high-spirited and cheerful, learned to speak French correctly
and was a brilliant storyteller. Obviously, she suited the King perfectly in
his declining years. But she had no security for the future, and with the
King's death was forced into an uncomfortable retirement, still occa-
sionally visited and praised by former admirers. Her associations with
the old regime were nevertheless too evident, and under the Terror she
was dragged from her seclusion: understandably her spirit cracked and
she died a sad, undignified death at the guillotine. The message does not
need to be underlined that there was often little security for a woman
whose social ascent was dependent upon granting sexual favours to pow-
erful men. At the same time, had little orphan Jeanne been born plain
she might well have perished of malnutrition at an early age.
Let us conclude this chapter by considering what happened when the
boot was on the other foot, securely in the case of Catherine the Great,
loosely in the case of Queen Christina of Sweden, though that could not
have been predicted from their different situations at birth. As daugh-
ter of the great warrior King Gustavus Adolphus, Christina succeeded
legitimately to the throne of Sweden, in the seventeenth century a
major European power. As Princess Sophia of Anhalt-Zerbst, the future
Catherine the Great was born a penniless minor German princess who
had to deploy courage, skill and ruthlessness to become Empress of
Russia. Christina converted to Catholicism, abdicated and, based in
Rome, lived a life of great notoriety, chortled and gasped over through-
out Europe.36 Sophia was no more than personable, though as Catherine
the Great she was, in middle age, statuesque, with a commanding pres-
ence. Christina verged on the plain, and, having been dropped as a baby,
had a deformed shoulder. One cannot but admire her energy, stamina,
boldness, support for the arts, determination to be her own woman and
defiance of convention. If only she had had the beauty to go with these
qualities she would, quite probably, have been a very happy woman. In
Rome she fell passionately in love with the distinctly odd-looking Car-
dinal Decco Azzolino.37 He, while flattered to be associated with a
former queen, quickly lost whatever sexual appetite he may have had for
 KINGS AND CONCUBINES 6/

her and could raise no more than (in the words of her authoritative
biographer Georgina Masson) 'a sympathy and kindliness for this
strange and really pathetic woman whom he knew depended on him for
all her happiness in life, as well as wise counsel and support'.38
For over fifty years, with only the slightest interruption, the Russian
Empire was ruled by two strong-willed, but not specially good-looking
women, Elizabeth I and Catherine II (Catherine the Great).39 At the
Russian court, did beautiful men have the advantages of a Villiers or a
Du Barry, or were other qualities demanded by the imperial rulers?
Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great, achieved the throne through a
well-conceived bloodless coup against her female cousin, the Regent
Ann. She had a number of not particularly handsome lovers when
the equivalent of a maitresse en titre appeared in the form of Alexis
Razumovsky. Razumovsky was of even lower social status than Du Barry
- he was a Ukrainian peasant. Clearly he was a man of sense, patience
and skill, but above all he was beautiful in the most virile way. Elizabeth
created him prince and field marshal. As he grew older, the Empress
kept him on the strength, but added three very good-looking younger
men, Shuvalov, Kachinersky and Beketov. As her heir, Elizabeth, for
romantic reasons of her own, chose a grandson of Peter the Great, who
was a German prince, naming him Grand Duke Peter Fedorovich; she
also decided that the appropriate wife for the Grand Duke was the
Princess Sophia, who, along with her mother, was summoned to Rus-
sia. As she recorded in her Memoirs, Sophia was not specially impressed
by the sixteen-year-old Grand Duke Peter, a feeble creature, whose
looks were shortly totally destroyed by a smallpox attack.40 The young
Sophia, who had converted to the Russian Orthodox Church and taken
the name of Catherine, had exactly the same excuse as Henry VIII,
Charles II, Louis XIV or Louis XV for seeking a good-looking lover (or
half-a-dozen).
The first was Serge Saltikov, of whom Catherine later wrote: 'unfor-
tunately I could not help listening to him; he was handsome as the
dawn'.41 Her next lover, the Polish Count Stanislaus Poniatowsky, was
generally reputed to be one of the best-looking men of his time, though
Catherine herself commented on his extreme short-sightedness42 (which
may account for his rather flattering description of her).43 In 1759
Catherine turned to Gregory Gregorievitch of the powerful Orlov
68 IT

family. The classic perfection of his features was commented upon by

both women and men, as also the virile strength of his body. Orlov was
a Barbara Villiers, with rather more power: he had his pick of all the
most beautiful young women at court, while he treated Catherine in a
very casual way (he was twenty-five and Catherine thirty). At this stage,
of course, she was not yet Empress, though she was very carefully
preparing herself - she was far better informed, as well as being inher-
ently far more intelligent than anyone else at court. On the afternoon of
Christmas Day 1761, the Empress Elizabeth died. The Grand Duke Peter
became Tsar Peter III. By now estranged from his clever and highly
sexed wife, he hoped to be able to get rid of her and establish as Empress
his homely mistress, Elizabeth Worontsov, with whom he felt at ease. As
it turned out, he assisted Catherine's cause by making blunder after
blunder. The first quality Catherine showed was cool, calculating
courage; secondly, she showed sensitivity and skill in choosing her
moment. Undoubtedly her physical presence counted for much, but it
is unclear that her sexual favours to Orlov made much difference. She
had the support of the Guards regiments and personally led them
against Peter, who abdicated without bloodshed. Reminding us of the
world we are in, Peter was murdered on 5 July 1762.
Now Empress in her own right, Catherine could fully indulge her
tastes in men. Orlov remained her principal lover till 1772. If one runs
through the list, the qualifications clearly were beauty and youth. It is
true that her long-term lover after Orlov, Gregory Potemkin, was all of
thirty-five years old, but then she was forty-five. Potemkin was large
and dramatic rather than beautiful, being very dark, with an aquiline
nose, and by the time his relationship got going he had lost an eye
(probably due to a neglected abscess) and had developed a facial tic.
She wrote to him as cMy beauty, my marble beauty',44 but obviously,
like Pompadour, he had other qualities than the purely physical, and
she kept up her correspondence with him long after she was devoting
herself amost exclusively to handsome young soldiers. In the late 17605
there had been the gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old Plato Zubov, whom
she showed off publicly as a man would show off a beautiful girlfriend.
For two years in the early 17705 there was the handsome guardsman
Alexander Vasilikov. In 1775 there began the most famous period when
she had a series of beautiful young soldiers, each one appointed to a
 K I N G S AND C O N C U B I N E S 69

post as Adjutant General, and each one around twenty-three at the time
of his appointment.
Very, very few women indeed find themselves in a position anything
like that of Catherine the Great. She had achieved that position in part
by the decisions of another woman, the Empress Elizabeth, but ulti-
mately through her own intelligence, courage and hard work (not least
in learning the Russian language and Russian ways): personal beauty
did not enter into it, and she could never have made a career as a Du
Barry or even as a Barbara Villiers (that is dependent on pleasing a
powerful male). She is of interest for our purposes in showing what
could happen when a woman did have freedom and power.
This page intentionally left blank
 4

Something Handsome and Cheap

All of the women, and some of the men, cashing in on their looks were
in fact doing so by granting sexual favours to one of more persons in
positions of power. For Jeanne Becu an important stage along that road
was serving in a shop; for Nell Gwyn it was displaying herself as an
actress. There were, indeed, a number of occupations whose doors were
more readily opened to beautiful women than to plain ones, though
until the twentieth century the greatest material rewards continued to
be secured through some branch of the sex trade: prostitution, concu-
binage and, in certain circumstances, marriage. Eventually, as actresses
mutated into film stars, a beautiful woman could earn millions because
of her appeal to millions and not because of a sexual relationship with a
single powerful man. Actually, before going on stage, Nell had occupied
the coveted post of orange-seller in the newly opened King's Theatre,
her looks giving her the edge over the stiff competition;1 while, as we
saw, Jeanne's first occupation had been in service, as a lady's compan-
ion. Thus the 'occupations' I have just referred to can be summarised as
c
the four esses': service, selling, show business, and, of course, sex. There
is a fifth, but very different, Y, that of saloniere. This was an avocation
rather than an occupation, one in which beauty was not an essential
qualification, but where the good-looking were often of particular
renown. Here we touch on the general point that in some environments,
or some situations, highly praised looks are a comparative, or relative,
matter: salonieres, ladies who organised and acted as hostesses in 'salons'
to which they invited the leading intellectuals and artists of the day, were
not, as a group, outstandingly beautiful, but some achieved special emi-
nence because, compared with other women of similar intelligence,
talent and culture, they were at least highly personable and sometimes
genuinely beautiful. Women who were both eminent and beautiful
were much painted, the artist never the less being paid for what were,
/2 IT

presumably, congenial commissions. In a later chapter we'll encounter

another occupation which often offered open arms to specially good-
looking women, that of artist's model, for which the artist (whatever
else he might do) did pay. And during the course of this chapter I'll
indicate how service, selling and show business could sometimes also
offer special opportunities to beautiful men.
In sixteenth-century Italy, and most notably in Venice, there was a
special class of sex-worker, the cortigiana onesta (the 'honoured' courte-
san, 'honest' in the sense of being Valued' in a way in which the com-
mon prostitute, the meretrice, was not), who, recognised by the state,
basically earned her keep from sexual services rendered, but who was
also expected to offer cultured and intellectually stimulating compan-
ionship. Most famous of all was Veronica Franco, undoubtedly a poet
and intellectual in her own right. Margaret F. Rosenthal has written a
brilliant analysis of contemporary writings by, and about, Franco, The
Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citizen and Writer in Sixteenth-
Century Venice, declaring that 'Playing music, singing, composing
poetry, and presenting a sophisticated figure were the courtesan's neces-
sary, marketable skills'.2 Being a feminist, Rosenthal leaves out the num-
ber one 'marketable' quality, beauty. That Franco was beautiful we know
from contemporary accounts and can see for ourselves from three sur-
viving portraits, particularly the famous one attributed to Tintoretto,
now in the Worcester Art Gallery, Massachusetts; that her beauty was
critically important to her and to the maintenance of her eminence in
Venetian society we know from the way in which a jealous rival (male)
poet made a special point of attacking her as 'ugly', writing that her
looks 'could not fool a blind man nor a horse's arse'.3
In seventeenth-century France, Marion de Lome was simply a high-
class sex-worker, a courtesan. The less beautiful, but infinitely more
talented Ninon de Lenclos (sometimes spelt Lanclos) was both courte-
san and saloniere, intimate with such intellectual giants as Moliere,
Bayle, Saint-Evremont and probably Pascal.4 A leading light in the lib-
ertarian, anti-authoritarian movement in seventeenth-century Paris,
and an author, she has a reputation akin to that of Queen Christina.
Simone de Beauvoir, describing her as a 'seventeenth-century woman of
wit and beauty', has called her 'the French woman whose independence
seems the most like that of a man', adding:
 SOMETHING HANDSOME AND CHEAP 73

Paradoxically, those women who exploit their femininity to the limit

create for themselves a situation almost equivalent to that of a man ...
Free in behaviour and conversation, they can attain - like Ninon de
Lenclos - to the rarest intellectual liberty. The most distinguished are often
surrounded by writers and artists who are bored by 'good' women.5

Clearly de Beauvoir did not share my ruthlessness in the assessment of

beauty. However, surviving portraits (in Versailles and Brussels) con-
firm the many contemporary written comments on Ninon, such as that
of Tallement de Reaux, 'as for beauty she never had a great deal, but
she always had plenty of spirit'.6 She lived into her eighties, amazingly
well preserved, and had lovers almost to the end. Undoubtedly, as a
personable woman, she was much happier than the ill-favoured
Queen Christina. As she herself is reputed to have commented, c Beauty
is a letter of recommendation which has no fixed limit'. Asked how
she managed to preserve her looks, she replied that that was because she
didn't indulge in 'cards, wine or women'.
The great age of the salons was the eighteenth century, and the golden
era is that of the thirty years after 1750, the years of brilliant and sus-
tained criticism of the authoritarianism and irrationality of the ancien
regime. Particularly interesting and instructive are the cases of Madame
Geoffrin, who had a husband but no title or noble particule ('de'), and
Mile Julie de Lespinasse, who had the particule, was still relatively young
(having been born in 1732), but had no husband. Francois Geoffrin was
the ultimate bourgeois, a wealthy glass manufacturer, who, at the age of
forty-eight, took a wife, Marie-Therese Rodet, whose father had been a
valet at the royal court; her appeal was more her youth (she was four-
teen) than any great distinction of looks. Geoffrin could readily provide
the wherewithal for lavish entertaining, but he himself had no interest
in the world of wit and intellect. Worse, he lived to the age of eighty-
four. Only with his death in 1749 was Mme Geoffrin able to realise to
the full her ambition of providing dinners for the intellectual giants of
the day, such as Montesquieu, Helvetius, d'Holbach, and Diderot and
D'Alembert, editors of the Encyclopedie, together with many of their
famous contributors. At fifty she was a plain woman, plainly dressed in
prim, almost spinster-like fashion.7 The very reticence and sexlessness
was a strength: her dinner parties, held in the afternoon, were deeply
serious and highly moral, without any distraction of flirtation or
74 IT

amorous exchange. If any woman made a signal contribution to the

twenty-five-year production of the thirty-five volumes of the Encyclo-
pedic (1751-76), the Enlightenment dictionary of universal knowledge, it
was the prim, even prissy, Mme GeorTrin.
She also made a protegee of the young Julie de Lespinasse, who thus
became the only other woman to be present at the afternoon salons held
at the Geoffrin house on rue St Honore. Julie was illegitimate, and,
though cherished by her mother, had in adolescence no prospects other
than entering a convent. Extremely intelligent, she had the lively charm
that often goes with that, but she was not particularly pretty. She
attracted the attention of members of the Parisian elite, one of whom
(Jean-Francois Renault, President of the Court of Appeal) informed
her: 'Though not actually beautiful, you are distinguished-looking, and
attract attention7.8 Supported by the admiration of such lumieres as
D'Alembert, Julie graduated to holding her own salons from 5 to 8 p.m.
in her house on rue de Belle Chasse. In the autumn of 1765 she caught
the fearsome disease by which around one Frenchwoman in four at that
time was disfigured, smallpox. D'Alembert despaired that she might die;
she recovered, but with her eyesight seriously weakened, her health
impaired and, the dread of so many women, such agreeable cast of
countenance as she had possessed, totally destroyed. The faithful
D'Alembert wrote to their common friend the Scottish philosopher
David Hume: cShe is a good deal marked by the smallpox, but not the
least in the world disfigured'. This judgement was praised by de
Lespinasse's Edwardian biographer Camilla Jebb as 'touchingly charac-
teristic of a sex most unjustly charged with inconstancy and an excessive
regard to external appearances'.9 The critical point is that the disfigure-
ment in no way interrupted de Lespinasse's brilliant career at the soul
of Enlightenment Paris.
D'Alembert was himself no beauty: the blunt truth - plain women
preferring beautiful men just as plain men prefer beautiful women - is
that, despite his devotion to her, Julie did not fancy him. She preferred
the Spanish Marquis de Mora, then fell totally for the glamorous Comte
de Guibert, whom she met at a garden fete on 21 June 1772. She was
thirty-eight; he, eleven years younger, was enjoying the successful recep-
tion of his preliminary 'Discourse' to his General Essay on Tactics, a
powerful plea for social and political reform. With Guibert off on his
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 75

travels, Julie overwhelmed him with passionate letters, while at the same
time keeping up a more measured loving correspondance with Mora.
Mora died of tuberculosis. Guibert married the sixteen-year-old
Alexandrine de Courcelles, a very lovely girl, as we can see from the por-
trait by Greuze. Still at the height of her reputation as a great
conversationalist and hostess, Julie de Lespinasse died on 22 May 1776,
not yet forty-four. Could she have heard Guibert's funeral oration,
would it have consoled her?: 'her plainness had nothing repulsive about
it, at the first glance; at the second one had accustomed oneself to it, and
as soon as she started speaking one forgot it'.10
The relationship between wealth and beauty in social mobility; the
way in which wealth can render beauty inessential; the power of per-
sonal qualities other than beauty: all these are illustrated in the histories
of two salonieres of the later eighteenth century, Madame Necker, and
her daughter, Mme de Stael. Susan Curchod was the daughter of a Swiss
Calvinist clergyman, well educated and undoubtedly beautiful, but
poor. She attracted the young Edward Gibbon, until his father forbade
any idea of marriage. She then cashed in her looks to their fullest value,
marrying the Swiss banker Jacques Necker, one of the richest men in
Europe, who became Louis XVTs Finance Minister. Alas, in looks, their
daughter Anne-Louise-Germaine favoured the father rather than the
mother.11 Mme de Chariere, whose novel Caliste Germaine had read
twenty times by the age of twenty, thought her plain and this was the,
strictly accurate, verdict of most women who knew her. The same
Edward Gibbon who had admired her mother described her as cwild,
vain, but good-natured and with a much larger provision of wit than
beauty.5 However, as her subsequent life was amply to demonstrate, she
had her attractions for many men. The Comte de Guibert, seducer of
the disfigured, middle-aged Mile de Lespinasse, declared: 'Her great
dark eyes are alight with genius. Her hair, black as ebony, falls around
her shoulders in wavy locks. Her features are marked rather than
delicate ... She has that which is more than beauty. What variety and
expressions in her face! What delicate modulations in her voice!
What perfect harmony between thought and its utterance!'12 But beware
the phrase 'more than beauty'; invariably it means 'less than beauty'.
There now enters one of those men whose primary, if not only, quali-
fication was his good looks. Eric-Magnus, Baron de Stael, was an attache
76 IT

to the Swedish ambassador in Paris, Count Creuze. Because of his looks

he was something of a favourite with the Swedish King Gustavus II, and
through his popularity with the Parisian ladies he managed to make ends
meet, though personally very poor. Creuze informed Gustavus: 'Mon-
sieur de Stael leads a very busy life. He is very well received at court, and
all the young women of France would tear my eyes out if I did not show
great concern for him. Madame de la Marck and Madame de Luxem-
bourg would exterminate me.'13 De Stael even had private access to
Louis XVI's Queen, Marie Antoinette, something which Creuze him-
self was not able to obtain. Gustavus was prevailed upon, with Necker
putting up the hard cash, to give de Stael a life tenure on the ambas-
sadorship in Paris. On that basis a marriage contract with Germaine
was agreed. Necker had not so much lost a daughter, he had gained a
beautiful son-in-law, with a title and a post of high social status.
Mme de Stael was a woman of considerable talent and great creative
energy. She had great self-confidence, a powerful personality, a liberated
psyche and strong sexual appetites. No doubt she was proud of her
handsome husband. When she first saw the tall, awkward Benjamin
Constant, his appearance, she admitted, 'filled me with an insurmount-
able physical revulsion'.14 But she had a daughter by him, as she had two
sons by the Comte de Narbonne, in addition to the three children she
bore her husband. With her father's immense riches behind her, with
her own literary talent, with her strong personality and brilliant wit, she
established unchallenged eminence as literary hostess and saloniere in
the period which followed that of Madame Geoffroi and Julie de
Lespinasse, the period which embraced the last years of the ancien
regime^ the Revolution, the Napoleonic era and the Bourbon restoration.
There was, indeed, only one real challenger, the exquisitely beautiful
Mme Recamier to whom Mme de Stael wrote the vibrant words: CI
would give half of the wit with which I am credited for half of the beauty
you possess.'15 Juliette Bernard was scarcely into her teens when her
looks were being widely remarked upon. Having no money of her own,
though her mother had been the mistress of a rich banker, Jacques-Rose
Recamier, she was highly vulnerable. It seems likely that Recamier
thought Juliette was, or at least might be, his own daughter. At any rate,
in the interests of securing her position, she was married to him at the
age of fifteen, he then being forty-two. It was common knowledge that
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 77

the marriage was not consummated. If her husband's wealth provided

the basis, Juliette's beauty was undoubtedly one of the prime attractions
of her salon; but the testimony is unanimous that she was a gracious and
sympathetic hostess, testimony all the more impressive since she held on
tenaciously to her virginity. Juliette Recamier was not a rival to Ger-
maine de Stael in wit and literary flair, but she monopolised attention
as a beauty whom painters loved to paint and whose complete simplic-
ity of dress exposed the empty pretentiousness of les merveilleuses, the
elaborately overdressed ladies of the 17905.
Mme Recamier had her setbacks, particularly when her husband went
bankrupt: that she managed to re-establish her place in Parisian society
must be largely attributed to her beauty. Although at times men were
attracted away from Mme de Stael in her direction, she led nothing of
the former's sex life. At the age of thirty she was engaged to Prince
August of Prussia, but the engagement came to nothing; it has been sug-
gested that the Prince was impotent.16 Passionate love did not come to
her till the age of forty when her famous affair with Chateaubriand, who
was nine years her senior, began. Apart from the astonishing beauty of
her youth, which certainly helped to launch her on her particular career,
Mme Recamier was remarkable in sharing with her infinitely randier
predeccessor, Ninon, a facility for preserving her looks: a drawing of her
by Gerard in 1829, when she was fifty-two, makes her look like a young
woman in her twenties; and similar thoughts are even stirred by a
medallion of 1846. Here we have a woman whose life experiences were
basically determined by her beauty, but whose success and popularity
were as great as they were because of her warm personal qualities; other
factors, both personal and external (she lost the favour of Napoleon for
a time), brought reverses of fortune and long periods of unhappiness.
The only English woman who can be directly compared with those
French sponsors of philosophy, social criticism and good conversation
is Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, whose cultured, talented gather-
ings at Devonshire House in the 17705 were the nearest thing we have to
the salons of the lumieres . Furthermore Georgiana led ca beauty chorus
of aristocratic ladies' in charming lower-class citizens into supporting
the Whig leader Charles James Fox at the Westminster constituency
(where the franchise was unusually wide) in the general election of
1784.17 How beautiful was the Duchess? Her best-selling biographer,
78 IT

Amanda Foreman, concurs with established tradition in telling us that

she was 'not classically pretty', 'not a conventional beauty'; her previous
biographer wrote that she 'was not especially beautiful in the classical
sense'.18 Ruffled once again by imprecise use of language, I am unsure
what exactly 'classical' or 'conventional' mean in this context: does the
latter mean 'in accordance with the conventions of the eighteenth cen-
tury', and the former 'in conformity with the ideal represented in the
Venus de Milo', or, as I suspect, are we in the realm of the familiar com-
forting phrase which circumvents rigorous definition? There is the usual
difficulty of contemporary accounts being in conflict. Horace Walpole
declared Georgiana 'a phenomenon' who 'effaces all without being a
beauty', while the actor David Garrick, something of a connoisseur in
respect of his own leading ladies (Mary Ann Yates, Mrs Abington,
Sophia Baddeley, Sarah Siddons), found her 'a most enchanting, exqui-
site, beautiful young creature. Were I five and twenty I could go mad
about her, but as I am past five and fifty I would only suffer martyrdom
for her'.19 The double portrait by Jean-Urbain Guerin of Georgiana and
Lady Elizabeth Foster gives the Duchess an exquisite profile; other por-
traits, unfortunately, are less unambiguous. Her hair was unfashionably
reddish, but there is no doubt that she was widely perceived as having
immense physical attractiveness. Among ordinary people who had no
personal contact with her vivacity and charm, she was reputed beauti-
ful. It seems worth seeking a verdict in the many satirical prints relating
to the Duchess. If she had had definite defects of face or figure, these
would undoubtedly have been caricatured; in fact Georgiana is always
rendered in such a way as to make her sexual allure her most distinctive
feature, singling her out from the plainer members of her 'beauty cho-
rus'. She was also the subject of such popular ballads as 'The Piccadilly
Beauty'. Beauty, I have said, comes in many types - many of them, cer-
tainly, not being appreciated in earlier ages. I conclude that her physical
appearance fitted in to one of these types, and that, had that not been
so she would not have been the celebrity that she was, and would not
have been able to make such a stir in the Westminster campaign.
Similar uncertainties exist about the looks of England's most notori-
ous courtesan, hard at work in the early part of the nineteenth century,
author of the greatest kiss-and-tell masterpiece of all time, to which the
Duke of Wellington apparently did not actually respond, 'Publish and
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 79

Be Damned5 - I am referring to Harriette Wilson (1786-1845) and her

Memoirs (1825). One of the fifteen children of a London watchmaker,
Harriette, everyone agrees, had a quite extraordinary career, trading sex
for social advancement and a life of luxury among the grandest in the
land. A female rival called her 'superlatively lovely', but she attracted
hostile as well as adoring comments. Some men were critical, or affected
to be, of her boyish figure. Historian Kate Hickman insists, 'Harriette
was not beautiful, but she was clever and spirited enough to make men
think she was'. To me this is simply another phrasing of the comforting
fairy tale we have already encountered, that, through spirit and cunning,
women can make themselves beautiful in the eyes of the befuddled male
beholder. I don't believe it; what I do believe, from the way men reacted
to her, from the portrait engravings reproduced in Frances Wilson's The
Courtesan's Revenge: Harriette Wilson, the Woman who Blackmailed the
King, and from the intensity of feeling apparent in the written descrip-
tions by both men and women, is that Harriette had a beauty which
we would instantly recognise today, as most men and women, a few
hidebound snobs and fops apart, recognised it then.20
From courtesans and salonieres at the top of society, let us move to
servants near the bottom. Servants formed a sizeable social group, from
8 to 13 per cent of the population in French towns at the end of the sev-
enteenth century; most households that could afford domestic service at
all had one servant, usually female. Male servants were more often
found in the grander houses. In the earlier part of the period the main
concern was over their honesty, for servants were generally regarded as
belonging to the 'dangerous classes' and feared by those striving to
establish a respectable living and life style.21 But as we move into the
eighteenth century it is clear that for the ambitious, elegant and pre-
sentable male servants were important status symbols. The connection
between the employment of male servants and ostentatious ornamenta-
tion was recognised in Lord North's tax of 1777 of a guinea per male
servant per year. And it was at this time that the word 'flunky' came into
use.22 For beautiful young men there were openings as footmen and
valets; there was little likelihood of meteoric elevation through sex
appeal, though Dr Cissie Fairchilds has shown that, with their good
looks, fine clothes and sophisticated manner, male servants often did
marry up - with daughters of artisans and shopkeepers, or even surgeons
80 IT

and schoolmasters and, sometimes, merchants.23 At least they ran no

risk of being cast into the streets seven months pregnant. Using the for-
mal statements which the ancien regime required of all unmarried
mothers, Dr Fairchilds has also shown how, apart altogether from
unscrupulous employers, female servants were often seduced by their
male counterparts: 'menservants were usually handsome, because they
were hired to look well in livery, and their fine clothes and sophisticated
manner might well turn a woman's head1.24 There were some special
opportunities for ca few well-educated, well-groomed, and presentable
women' as well as men,25 but, on the whole, domestic service was one
of the professions which bears out the novelist Henry Fielding's obser-
vation - running counter to the main tenor of my book - that 'beauty
was the greatest fortune for a man and the greatest misfortune for a
woman'.26
One celebrated escapee from domestic service was Emma Lyon, who
became successively mistress of Sir Harry Fetherstonehaugh (at the age
of sixteen), mistress of the Honourable Charles Grenville, and mistress,
then wife, of Grenville's uncle, Sir William Hamilton, British Plenipo-
tentiary in Naples. Her celebrated affair with Admiral Nelson is less
germane to this study than her remarkable social progress. She was born
in Cheshire, daughter of a blacksmith. Unfortunately we do not know
the vital stages by which she moved into gentry circles. She had a job
locally as an under-nursemaid, then her mother, who had herself moved
to the great metropolis, got her a post as a nursemaid in London (a cru-
cial geographical move). She may then have moved to Mrs Kelly's very
high-class brothel, which was possibly the central stepping stone, but
we don't know for sure. What we do know, from the many Romney
portraits, is that she possesed, as Sir William (long before he had any
notion of marrying her), and almost everyone else, perceived, 'exquisite
beauty'.27
Once again, whatever the job that got a woman started on the career
ladder, rapid social promotion depended on the granting of sexual
favours to a small number of influential or powerful men. For a good-
looking man making a career out of his looks, sexual activity was usually
(though not always) incidental to social success. As old families grew
wealthier through collaboration with industrial enterprise, and new
families pushed their way in amongst the old, the premium placed upon
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 8l

what was considered the cultured display of elegant, appropriately

dressed male servants greatly increased. At grander English country
houses in the mid nineteenth century, 'the first requirement of a foot-
man, groom or coachman was that they should have the physique to
show their liveries off to advantage'.28 In her meticulous study, The Rise
and Fall of the Victorian Servant, Pamela Horn has pointed out that 'Per-
sonal appearance was very important for any boy aspiring to the
position of footman or page in a large household, for only the tall and
well-built were considered'. She continued, 'wages often related to
height, with the tallest men or boys receiving the highest pay'.29 Similar
considerations affected the American upper class as it developed in self-
consciousness in the late nineteenth century. 'Among the "smart set" of
the post-iS/os', writes the historian of Americans and their Servants in
the period 1800-1920, 'an imposing looking butler was a must. A "good"
five-foot, three-hundred-pound, balding butler was impossible.'30
Even in the later eighteenth century, female servants were not
intended for display. By the later nineteenth century, however, it was
becoming a matter of prestige to have personable female servants: 'no
one wanted a squat, thickset chambermaid; tall comely ones were
required in wealthy homes'.31 There was at least a chance now of a good-
looking girl getting a position, principally for the attractiveness of her
appearance and for display to envious guests, rather than for satisfying
the desires which that appearance aroused. Of course the beautiful ser-
vant still ran special risks: either of being seduced by one of her masters
(if not a fellow servant), or being sacked as a potential temptation to a
growing son. But the main point stands: in the humblest jobs (where
competition was often severe) beauty could be an asset, and did not
always lead to the granting (or, more likely, exaction) of sexual favours;
as always, these might lead to better positions where sex was a central
consideration. Being a servant, obviously, was no wonderful achieve-
ment with respect to conditions of work, earnings or status. It was seen
by working-class and lower-middle-class men, by shopkeepers, trades-
men, peasants and farmers as an excellent preparation for the duties of a
wife.32 Given that marriage remained the basic 'career' for most women,
a comely girl who got a good post was twice blest in the marriage stakes
- she had the skills and the looks.
The jumping-off point for Madame Du Barry was one of the shops
82 IT

developing in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to meet the

needs of fashionable ladies, and providing employment for pretty young
women and showcases in which they could display their endowments to
rich men. The career of Kitty Fisher demonstrates the potency of beauty,
but was also suffused with that sense of tragedy insisted upon in so
much of the folklore about beauty being no real blessing for a woman.
Born in Soho, London in 1738 Kitty was, in recognition of her looks,
apprenticed to a milliner. She came quickly to the attention of London's
leading gallants and had a succession of increasingly famous lovers.
Twice painted by the best-known artist of the age, Sir Joshua Reynolds,
she was for six years reputed the capital's outstanding beauty, at the
centre of the aristocratic social scene, but not, however, eligible for mar-
riage into the aristocracy. Then, suddenly, she fell ill, due to overuse of
the poisonous cosmetics of the day. She retired from high society,
marrying the humble John Norris. Within five months, at the age of
twenty-nine, she was dead.
The overwhelming number of pretty young women who became
salesgirls of one sort or another did not become celebrities though, one
hopes, they usually lived longer than Kitty Fisher. Ned Ward, the pio-
neer investigative writer, who began his London Spy: The Vanities and
Vices of the Town Exposed to View in 1698, described the New Exchange
(the fabled shopping centre of its day) as cthis seraglio of fair ladies', and
noted that 'the chiefest customers ... were beaux' who £were paying
double price for linen gloves or sword-knots, to the prettiest women,
that they might go thence and boast among their brother fops what sin-
gular famous and great encouragement they had received'.33 Earlier,
Pepys had reflected on his paying the glove-seller Doll twenty shillings
for one pair, 'she is so pretty that, God forgive me, I would not think it
too much'.34
We know of no male Kitty Fishers, but perhaps not sufficient atten-
tion has been paid to the way in which shops catering mainly for women
often found it advantageous to employ good-looking young men. Since,
in general, it was less easy for a rich woman to take a lower-class lover
than it was for a rich man to take a lower-class mistress, the prospects
for sharp social promotion were not great for handsome young shop
assistants - still relatively comfortable, if still demeaning and penuri-
ous, employment in a city shop was a distinct improvement upon the
 SOMETHING HANDSOME AND C H E A P 83

furious struggle for subsistence permanently waged in the great metrop-

olises, as in all towns and villages. The appearance and style of some
shop assistants were referred to by Mrs Mary Manley in her Female
Tatler (1709):
This afternoon some ladies, having an opinion of my fancy in cloaths,
desired me to accompany them to Ludgate-hill, which I take to be as
agreeable an amusement as a lady can pass away three or four hours in.
The shops are perfect gilded theatres, the variety of wrought silks to many
changes of fine scenes and the Mercers are the performers in the Opera ...
dished-out creatures; and, by their elegant address and soft speeches, you
would guess them to be Italians.35
On a shopping expedition the fictional character Evelina (in Fanny Bur-
ney's acutely observed novel of that title) remarks that 'there seems to
be six or seven men belonging to each shop'. 'And such men!', she adds.
Real-life shop assistants at the London Bridge drapers Flint and Palmer's
had their hair curled, powdered and starched each morning before
appearing in front of their customers.
We saw that the expanding economies of the nineteenth century and
the expanding desires of the rich created expanding opportunities in
service. So too in selling. The first successful department store entre-
preneur in the United States was Alexander Turney Stewart, whose
emporium in New York City was completed in 1846. Stewart very delib-
erately and positively catered to women: accordingly, 'he chose his
salesmen for their "gentlemanly" manners and pleasing appearance';
each female customer was greeted at the door by the general manager
who 'assigned her, if she desired, a special salesman who escorted her
through the store'.36 In the journal of Louis Fissner, a Prussian Jew
employed as a clothing shop salesman in Newburyport, Connecticut, in
the 18505, there is a marked preoccupation with personal appearance.
On 14 April 1854, he noted the arrival of a new salesman from Boston:
'he is good looking but in my opinion he will stay but a short time'.37
Henry Mayhew, the London journalist, tells us of dress shops in the
i86os with 'fifty gentlemen behind the counters',38 the fine personal
appearance necessary being demonstrated visually in such engraved
advertisements as that for Farmer and Rogers Great Shawl Emporium,
Regent Street, where we see the female shoppers and the male sales
staff.39 John Bird Thomas, writing of his experiences as a shop boy in
84 IT

the 18705, recorded the importance of a good appearance even in ordi-

nary grocers' shops. He had been advised that 'a good appearance and
plenty of cheek will get you anywhere'. But apparently careful attention
to dress was not enough, genuine good looks being an important
requirement: 'I think that dressing up better helped because when I
applied in answer to advertisements I generally got an interview, but
there were so many taller and better looking applicants that all that hap-
pened was that they took my name and address and "would let me
know" '.40 The best summary of the relatively secure but also relatively
menial prospects in this occupation for the handsome lad is provided
by a satirical cartoon of 1881: 'Yes, Madame?' enquires a shopwalker of
a customer entering the shop; the Lady replies, 'I want something hand-
some and cheap'; 'Certainly, Madam,' replies the shopwalker, 'Mr Jones,
step forward.'41
My category 'show business' is, of course, anachronistic, but I have
used it to highlight a realm of employment which continues, grows and
mutates right through to the age of film and television. For a woman,
going on stage could simply be a planned first step towards attracting
the attention of some rich 'protector'; for a successful theatrical career,
dramatic talent, as well an attractive appearance, was required (it must
be remarked that many leading male actors had little or no claim to
personal beauty). We last encountered Nell Gwyn, that model of
beauty-fuelled social ascent, as an orange seller (born in 1650 into a
completely destitute family, she had previously been a hawker of fish
and a servant in a brothel);42 she consolidated her position by demon-
strating in brilliant degree the wit and power of repartee expected in
this job. Wit, but mainly looks, gained Nell's promotion to the stage
itself. To hold her place there, she had to manifest great talent for com-
edy (for tragedy she had little bent). Pepys hit off her various talents
with his usual acuity: 'Pretty witty Nell', he called her. Seeing her at her
lodging house door in Drury Lane on May Day 1667, he remarked that
'she seemed a mighty pretty creature'. Seeing her dressing herself back-
stage, he described her as Very pretty, prettier than I thought'.
Appraising her performance in Dryden's The Mayden Queen, he
declared:
So great a performance of a comical part was never, I believe, in the world
before as Nell doth this, both as a mad girle and then most and best of all,
i. Anne Boleyn (1507-1536), second of Henry VIII's six wives. Was she beauti-
ful, was she plain? This portrait is so severe - in painting royalty, artists aimed
at dignity rather than sexiness - it's hard to tell. Unknown sixteenth-century
artist. (National Portrait Gallery)
2. Henry Wriothesley, 3rd Earl of Southampton (1573-1624). His Greek nose
and long auburn hair touched the heartstrings of the ageing Elizabeth I. Con-
ceited and arrogant, he took part in Essex's rebellion in 1601 and was lucky to
escape execution. Unknown artist, c. 1600. (National Portrait Gallery)
3. George Villiers, ist Duke of Buckingham (1592-1628), with his long slim legs
and wearing the Order of the Garter. Adored by James I and many, many
women, he was also detested for his arrogance. Attributed to William Larkin,
c. 1616. (National Portrait Gallery)
4. Nell Gwyn (1651-1687). As the whore who captivated Charles II, Nell has
had her looks much traduced by the British establishment. This portrait is
probably a good likeness. Painting by Simon Verelst, c. 1680. (National Portrait
Gallery)
5. George Gordon Byron, 6th Lord Byron (1788-1824). Thanks to cheap
engravings, the poet was one of history's first pin-ups. He followed a deliberate
slimming regime, curled his hair and loved dressing up. Replica, c. 1835, of an
original of 1813 by Thomas Philips. (National Portrait Gallery)
6. Emma Hamilton (1765-1815). Emma Lyon followed the paradigmatic career
of the village beauty (the blacksmith's daughter), from service as a nursemaid,
to metropolitan courtesan, to wife of Sir William Hamilton, with the added
celebrity of becoming Lord Nelson's mistress. Painting by George Romney,
c. 1785. (National Portrait Gallery)
7- Marie Duplessis. Slim and pale (and not, a contemporary thought, to the taste
of the Turks), Alphonsine Plessis was carried by sheer beauty from grinding
poverty in Normandy to becoming a leading courtesan, celebrated as La Dame
aux Camelias and in La Traviata. It was TB, not the poverty (from which she
did escape) which destroyed her. Portrait by Edouard Vienot, 1845.
8. Lola Montez. Born Marie Gilbert to a respectable English family in Limer-
ick, she became one of the most famous of all the Grandes Horizontals. She
eventually became maitresse en titre to King Ludwig I of Bavaria. Portrait by
Joseph Carl Stieler, c. 1845, Schloss Nymphenburg, Munich.
 SOMETHING HANDSOME AND CHEAP 85

when she comes in as a young gallant; and hath the motions and carriage
of a spark the most ever I saw any man have.43
But talent would not have triumphed unsupported by the granting of
sexual favours. From the start of her stage career Nell was the mistress
of the leading actor, Charles Hart (a great-nephew of Shakespeare), who
provided her dramatic training and arranged for her to be taught to
dance by another actor, John Lacey.
In seventeenth-century France it was generally the players of minor,
and usually unpaid, parts who aimed to move quickly to the role of
courtesan or kept woman. Let us turn instead to La Champmesle, a
great tragedienne and a supreme interpreter of Racine. She was born
into a family of middling prosperity and no social status in Rouen in
1642. She had had one husband before settling permanently into a the-
atrical career and marrying a fellow actor, Champmesle.44 Her
advantages were sheer talent, a marvellous voice and the ability to play
the most passionate parts with complete authenticity, allied to a figure
and appearance which seen on stage were acceptable to audiences. Mme
de Sevigne, a devotee of her acting, said that she was ugly when seen
close up, with small round eyes and a poor complexion. clt is', explained
the celebrated writer of letters, 'the player not the play that one comes
to see. I went to Ariane only to see her. That tragedy is feeble ... But
when La Champmesle appeared, one could hear a murmur, everybody
was ravished and moved to tears by her despair.'45 For seven years
Racine and La Champmesle were lovers, though often the relationship
seemed more like a marriage of convenience than a love match. During
the same period La Champmesle had four or five other lovers, in this
case the rightful prerogatives of professional success and membership of
elite society (one of the lovers was the serial womaniser, Charles de Sevi-
gne) rather than means to further social advancement.
Moving into the eighteenth century, and back across the Channel, the
most important theatrical figure was David Garrick (1717-1779), a pupil
of Dr Johnson's at Lichfield, whose theatrical career began in 1740 and
who from 1747 was joint manager of London's Drury Lane theatre.
Garrick wrote, acted, managed, directed and brought a new naturalism
and professionalism to the theatre. Accounts dating from the 17405
describe him as 'a very sprightly young man, neatly made and of an
expressive countenance', and 'little Garrick, young and light and alive in
86 IT

every muscle and every feature'.46 From the various portraits, we can see
that he was comely, but not strikingly beautiful. However, many of the
other dominant male figures in the theatre of the day were scarcely even
personable, whatever the roles they played might seem to demand. The
rival whom Garrick effectively eclipsed, Quin, was now old and
paunchy, but even in youth had not been much to look at.
Garrick had difficulty in finding and retaining actresses of the quality
he insisted on, sometimes because of his own stinginess, or even because
of jealousy of their successes. His favourite in the earlier years was Mrs
Mary Ann Yates, a notable beauty and highly talented actress. She, how-
ever, moved to Edinburgh. Her own appraisal of her qualities - in which
she clearly saw beauty as paramount - and the price they should com-
mand, can be seen in her reply to Garrick's determined effort to get her
back:
On considering every circumstance in my situation here, and my novelty,
to say nothing of my beauty I think I cannot in conscience take less than
£700 a year for my salary. For my clothes (as I love to be well dressed, and
characters I appear in require it), I expect £ioo.47

In the event, the two-year deal concluded was for £750 per annum plus
a further £50.
Garrick's other female star at this time was Mrs Abington (formerly
Fanny Barton). Fanny Barton's history is the proverbial one of beauty
providing the springboard and talent the wings for a girl to soar from
penury to a secure and respected celebrity. Fanny Barton was born
sometime in the 17305, her mother dying when she was young. As a
child she earned pennies selling flowers (which earned her the nick-
name of'Nosegay Fan'), singing or reciting in public houses, or simply
running errands. Sometimes she wangled a way into the private rooms
of better establishments, doing recitations from a tabletop, cher efforts
and beauty winning the reward of a few pence from her auditors'.48
While still very young, she became a servant in the house of a milliner
in Cockspur Street, where, displaying the aptitude for learning which
was one of her characteristics, she acquired the beginnings of a knowl-
edge of dress and fashion, and also of French. It was almost inevitable
that she should also have worked as a prostitute, her good looks pre-
sumably securing her better than average earnings. The gloss on this
 SOMETHING HANDSOME AND CHEAP 8/

part of her life in the Victorian biography from which I have just quoted
was:
Fanny underwent many painful and ignoble experiences, that her early
days were miserable, squalid and vicious, but that she strove after a better
life. She may not be judged with severity, at least the circumstances of her
condition must be remembered in passing sentence upon her, and some-
thing of the evil of her career must be charged to the heartlessness of the
world in which she lived.49

The striving after a better life cannot be doubted since at some stage she
added to her French an ability to converse in Italian, and, in the early
17505, sought to put her natural and acquired talents to use by turning
to the theatre. After immediate successes at the Haymarket, she came to
the attention of Garrick, who presented her first appearance at Drury
Lane on 29 October 1756. Meantime she was taking music lessons from
a trumpeter in the Royal Service, James Abington; by September 1856
she had become Mrs Abington.
Garrick offered little in opportunities or wages, so she moved to
Dublin, where a critic described her as 'more womanly than Farren,
fuller, yet not heavy'.50 A contemporary engraving after Gosway certainly
shows her to have had a fine bosom and a plump, wide face, with a
shapely nose in proportion, big eyes and a smallish, but very sensual
mouth; indeed, whether by design of the artist or not, an appealing
physicality is projected. If we are fully to understand the rise of Fanny
Barton, this is a far more relevant portrait than the well-known, but
much later, 'dignified' one by Reynolds. Her husband grew jealous of
both her success and her many admirers; finally she made him regular
payments in exchange for a full separation. She now took, as a lover the
elderly but rich Member of Parliament for Newry. Again there is a choice
piece of Victoriana:
This connection, brought about through an approving choice of the mind
on both sides, rather than the gratification of any other wish, the pleasure
arising from this intercourse became gradually so intense, that he
delighted in no company so much as her's, each was a great and irresistible
attraction to the other .. .51

He died, leaving a settlement on her which, as surely as the Villiers gift

had provided for John Churchill, provided her with the financial
88 IT

platform upon which she could display her talents, and which, as surely,
was earned through the lure of beauty. Beauty gave her security, but it
was talent that gave her fame: Garrick now offered her £5 a week to
return to Drury Lane (far short, though, of what he had paid to get Mrs
Yates back).
Throughout the 17605 and 17705 Mrs Abington was firmly established
as a brilliant player of comic parts, a leader of fashion and welcome vis-
itor in high social circles.52 In 1782, still at the height of her popularity,
though now around fifty, she fell out again with Garrick and moved to
Covent Garden, where her successes continued; at Drury Lane her place
was taken by Elizabeth Farren. Three major contemporary sources attest
to the turbulence stirred up by the advent of Eliza Farren. First, The
Memoirs of the Present Countess of Derby (Late Miss Farren) by 'Petron-
ius Arbiter', which, published in 1797, went through five editions in that
year at the price of is 6d; secondly, a response to this critical account
published in the same year and entitled The Testimony of Truth to
Exalted Merit: or A Biographical Sketch of the Right Honourable the
Countess of Derby in Refutation of a False and Scandalous Libel', and a
satirical and critical poem, Thalia to Eliza, published in 1789. The sec-
ond has as its frontispiece an engraving of her, showing an alluring face,
with large, lustrous eyes, long, exquisitely formed nose, sensuous lips
and rounded chin - in short, a beauty (a beauty, neither 'classical', nor
'conventional', but simply a beauty, in one of beauty's entrancing
variety of types).
Elizabeth Farren was born in 1759 into a family of strolling players
then operating in the north east of England. Her father died when she
was very young. Eliza, with her elder sister Kitty, was put on the stage.
Evidently talented as well as good-looking, Eliza was snapped up by
Joseph Younger, the patentee of the Liverpool Theatre, and launched on
an acting career. Through Younger's recommendation to Colman,
manager of the Haymarket Theatre in London, Farren moved to the
capital in 1777, where she was usually cast in tragic roles. She had no
difficulty, however, in taking over Mrs Abington's position as leading
comic actress. Critics, while finding her face 'handsome', commented
unfavourably on her lack of 'embonpoint';53 she may have been
accounted unfashionably slim, but, demonstrating a point which occurs
over and over again, Eliza was adored by audiences and lusted after by
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 89

the mighty. Tall, with a neat figure, she was perfect for 'breeches parts',
where, dressed up as a man, she could show off her elegant legs and
shapely bottom. She attracted the attentions of the Whig leader, Charles
James Fox (nobody accused him of lacking embonpoint), though not
even the hostile Memoirs accused her of becoming his mistress. Her vir-
tuous reputation stood her in good stead when Fox was succeeded as
her principal admirer by the elderly Earl of Derby. With the Countess
still alive, Eliza was given an understanding that she could consider her-
self the expectant Countess of Derby. True enough, on 8 April 1797 Eliza
Farren made her last stage appearance preparatory to her marriage to
the Earl of Derby on 8 May.
The greatest English actress of the eighteenth century, Sarah Siddons,
is remembered as such rather than as a society beauty; but without her
strong, distinctive and utterly seductive features it is unlikely that she
would ever have stepped from her provincial touring company into the
pages of history. She was performing with her company at Cheltenham
when a number of aristocrats in the audience, who had come expecting
some hilarity at the expense of incompetent mummers, were so taken
with her that they wrote to Garrick. Garrick immediately sent out his
talent spotters. Catching up with the company at Worcester, one of
them, the Reverend Henry Bate, reported of Mrs Siddons that her face
is 'the most strikingly beautiful for stage effect that I have ever beheld'.54
In fact Siddons was so nervous in her first performance in London that
she was not a great success. She therefore moved to Bath, where she
steadily built up an immense reputation, laying the basis for her even-
tual triumph in London, where she soon became the sole dominating
figure, holding that position till her retirement, at the age of sixty-seven,
in 1812. With so many portraits of Sarah Siddons, few of us today would
deny her claim to beauty, though her strong nose was not universally
approved among the hidebound arbiters of eighteenth-century taste.
The career of Sarah Siddons points in the direction of the modern
evaluation of beauty: her beauty allied to her great talent brought her
huge success without her having to grant sexual favours. There was,
of course, an entire profession founded solely on the selling of sex
for instant cash. Telling the readers of his Tableau de Paris (1781) that
there were thirty thousand prostitutes in Paris, Sebastien Mercier
remarked upon the enormous social distance between them and
90 IT

courtesans, though, he declared primly, they chave exactly the same

goal'.55 The 'enormous distance' is an undisputable fact, though women
who supported themselves as manure-gatherers, salt-spreaders and
the like 'might well envy the financial rewards of prostitution'.56 On the
other hand, good looks might be a contributory cause of a woman's
downfall in the first place, leaving with her no choice but to go into
prostitution. Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies of 1793 tells us of a
beautiful servant, employed in a 'gentlemean's family', who, on walks,
attracted the attention of a 'gentleman of the law', who invited her to
his chambers: 'The sequel it were needless to relate: she was debauched
and after deserted by her betrayer. The consequence of which was,
having lost her place, and being destitute of a character, she was
obliged to have recourse to her beauty for subsistence.'57 This publica-
tion, as does Ranger's Impartial List of the Ladies of Pleasure in Edinburgh
of 1775, gives insights into the importance of personal beauty to a
prostitute and its relationship to other desired qualities. In discussing
another Covent Garden lady, Harris declared that 'Beauty ... is gener-
ally looked upon as the first and chief requisite; and, next to it, an
agreeable conversation'. What this lady has, however, is 'good nature';
but then 'her favours may be had on very moderate terms'.58 The
seduced servant, on the other hand, being 'one of the finest women
upon the town ... accordingly made one of the best figures from the
emoluments of her employments'.59 There was an Edinburgh girl of
sixteen whose 'youth and beauty procure her a great many admirers';
another young lady was not pretty, but 'makes a tolerable livelihood'.60
Descriptions of appearance are usually quite meticulous: the ill-
favoured could expect half a guinea, while a 'beautiful lady' newly
arrived from Wales charged five guineas.61 In the Edinburgh guide
musical talents and the ability to be a congenial drinking companion
were also prized attributes, and in the London guide the epithets
'well bred' or 'well educated' indicated high prices. Both guides, as is
the custom in such publications, and often in identical language,
stressed the skills in the arts of love-making of their subjects: however,
since this skill is allowed to every single one, it does not amount to a
characteristic upon which discrimination between different prostitutes
could be based. Self-evidently, very many prostitutes cannot have
been at all beautiful, and obviously basic professional skills were
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 91

important, at least among the brothel- or home-based ones featured in

these guides.
That beauty was a most important asset for the woman who hoped
to do particularly well is clear from the open attention paid to it, and
from some of the downright offensive (in our eyes) comments. Of one
Edinburgh lady it was reported: 'If it was not for this Lady's inordinate
desire for the sport of Venus, she would certainly never have followed
the game, as she does not possess one outward accomplishment to rec-
ommend her'.62 On the customer's side, as Antonia Fraser has neatly put
it, 'it was a case of striking a balance between what his purse could
afford and what his sensibilities could stand'.63 But if a woman was to
derive real advantage and significant social promotion from her looks
then she had to get out of common prostitution as quickly as possible
before it destroyed her. (Emma Lyon - later Lady Hamilton - if she ever
was a prostitute, had escaped by the time she was sixteen.) The seduced
servant of the Covent Garden list did do well for a time as a kept
woman, but when her protector died 'she was compelled to have
recourse to a more general commerce, in which she has not been so suc-
cessful as before'. Although the guide concluded that 'she may,
nevertheless, still be pronounced a very good piece, and a desirable
woman', the reasons for her diminished success and, evidently, hope of
escape were clear: 'Chagrin added to the usual irregularities accidental
to her profession, has diminished those charms which were before so
attracting; her face is now rather bloated, and she is grown somewhat
masculine in her person.'64 For all prostitutes the risks were high, espe-
cially from venereal diseases and pregnancy. The prostitute could not
insist that her customer wear 'armour': if he did, it was to protect him-
self against disease. The standard contraceptive method, a sponge
soaked in alcohol, was not very effective.
We come to a fundamental proposition in this analysis of beauty, sex
and social success. If a woman was to sell sexual favours and retain some
kind of security, or attain further social advancement, she had to reach
a level of society where she could have pregnancies without sabotaging
her entire career. One route was across 'the enormous distance' into the
world of kept women and courtesans: on the whole the better looking
were more likely to achieve this, but the overwhelming majority, includ-
ing the truly beautiful, failed, never really having had a chance in the
92 IT

first place. The other route was to become a brothel-keeper, like the cel-
ebrated Mrs Hayes in mid eighteenth-century London, who, reputedly,
retired worth £20,00065 Essential requirements were high initial earning
power (good looks), immense good luck and managerial ability.
Male prostitution, much of it child prostitution, for male customers
was not a glamorous business. Male prostitution for female customers,
however, was a much more select affair and here men with the right
attributes, which might include beauty of face and form, could add to
their economic, and even improve their social, prospects. It seems
unlikely that anyone would waste money placing this advertisement
in the Nottingham Weekly Courant of 26 November 1717 if it were not
genuine - why shouldn't it be?
Any able young Man, strong in the Back, and endowed with a good Carnal
Weapon, with all the Appurtenances thereto belonging in good Repair,
may have Half A Crown per Night, a Pair of clean Sheets, and other Nec-
essaries, to perform Nocturnal Services on one Sarah Y-tes, whose
Husband having for these 9 months past lost the Use of his Peace-Maker,
the unhappy Woman is thereby driven to the last Extremity.66

To what profession should we allocate Casanova? As with Veronica

Franco, recent work stresses his intellectual powers and high level of
culture. One could describe him as a sort of male 'honest courtesan',
save that he wasn't very honest and was constantly in trouble with the
authorities. He was, therefore, something of a cross between a gigolo
and a con man. He was tall (over six feet), dark and personable (we
have a couple of portraits): he lived off his quick wits, his intriguing
range of knowledge and talents, his plausibility and flair, his imposing
person and his agreeable looks. One of the many spies employed to
keep an eye on him reported (with absolutely no reason to varnish the
truth):
He is a man of forty years at most, of high stature, of good and vigorous
aspect, very brown of skin, with a vivacious eye. He wears a short and
chestnut coloured wig. From what I am told he is of a bold and disdain-
ful character, but, especially, he is full of the gift of the gab, and, as such,
witty and learned.67

Though his autobiography (our main source) is undoubtedly full of

fantasy and exaggeration, Casanova was strikingly successful with
 S O M E T H I N G H A N D S O M E AND CHEAP 93

women, over whom he was generally quite fastidious. He himself was

not a stunning beauty, but good company, and physically fairly attrac-
tive. What did it mean to be ugly or deformed? Some made a sort of
profession out of misfortune by becoming beggars. But without doubt
the whole cast of pre-industrial society was to be inconsiderate to the
extent of cruelty towards the ill formed. Women in the seventeenth cen-
tury ran the risk of being identified as witches. Those who were
successful with the pen, but not actually seen by the readers of their
books (a condition which obtains less and less today) could generally
afford to be ill-favoured. How far was this true of the spectacularly mis-
shapen, and highly celebrated, Augustan poet, Alexander Pope? A victim
of Pott's disease, Pope was a dwarf of four feet six inches, crippled by
arthritis. In his own poignant words he referred to cthis long Disease,
my life'. It may be that some of the passion which drove him on to suc-
cess as a poet derived from his deformity. But though contemporaries
had to recognise his genius, it cannot be said that they behaved well
towards him. Official recognition of his merit, and the religious toler-
ance of Catholicism granted to many others, were withheld from him.
His private life was scarcely happy. His over-strained attitude to sex,
mingling boyish smut with elaborate gallantry, it has been authorita-
tively claimed, 'must derive from feelings of being unattractive, if not
grotesque, to the women he desired'.68 It may be noted that most of the
unhappiness and much of the wayward behaviour of another seven-
teenth-century poet, Oliver Goldsmith, was caused by his consciousness
of his own ugliness. 'Look at that fly with a long pin stuck through it!',
a passing bully once shouted.69 Lisa Jardine's recent biography of the
brilliant and intensely industrious polymath, Robert Hooke, suggests
possible connections between his failure to fulfil his potential, his lack
of concrete achievements, his personal loneliness and misery, and his
unappealing, misshapen appearance.70
Looks mattered in the pre-industrial world. The penalties for being
ill-favoured or worse were more severe than they are today. Beauty was
noticed and sought after, but attitudes towards it contained much of the
traditional ambivalence, and conventions about what constituted beauty
and what did not, though ignored by the clear-sighted and the lusty,
remained strong. It always had profound effects on the lives of those
who possessed it, but did not guarantee happiness and success, and
94 IT

could bring tragedy. Social status and wealth were still more important
than personal appearance.
 5

Getting Married

Those individuals (male and female) who profited from their good
looks appeared beautiful to almost all who saw them. To get married
one only has to appeal to one other person of the opposite sex, hence
the understandable but misleading aphorism about beauty being in the
eye of the beholder. Undoubtedly the phenomenon known as 'love'
exists, and has (despite the attempts of some historians to limit it to
modern times) existed throughout the ages. It is not necessarily a life-
long phenomenon, nor an exclusive one; it is possible to fall in love
several (or many) times in a lifetime, and possibly to be in love with
more than one person at any one time. Since there are not nearly
enough beautiful people to go round, it is just as well for the survival of
the human race that the phenomenon does exist. Evidently, many mar-
riages were and are contracted without the existence of mutual, or even
one-sided, love. Motives for marrying were usually mixed, with eco-
nomic and social considerations often predominating; for women
marriage was frequently the only alternative to poverty and the loss of
whatever social status they might have. The range of choices for men
might not be much greater than that for women; an important sub-
theme of this book is the manner in which the transition from
pre-industrial society to industrial society is accompanied by a leap from
limited marital (and extra-marital!) choices to extended ones.
We've already seen something of traditional moralistic and perhaps
slightly inconsistent and confused views on beauty, duty, marriage and
temptation. A sixteenth-century Bishop of Exeter, Miles Coverdale,
struck an agreeable balance. Arguing that a spouse should be chosen for
true riches of mind, body, and, of course, earthly possessions, he did
have the grace to add that 'if beside these, thou foundest other great
riches (beauty and such like gifts) ... thou hast the more to thank God
for'.1 However, his near contemporary Philip Stubbes, a perennial critic
96 IT

of society and its morals, was more in tune with public (never exactly
the same as private - another theme of this book) morality when he
complained of feckless marriages, with a boy not caring whether he had
sufficient funds as long as 'he have his pretty pussy to huggle with all'.2
Throughout the seventeenth century, 'passion, alias infatuation, alias
lust' was seen, with respect to marriage, as 'a noxious ingredient, rather
than a pre-requisite yeast', with 'sex and mere looks' being regarded as
'special snares'.3 On into the next century it was strongly urged that sex-
ual desire was not a proper motive for marriage.4 Mrs Astell's
turn-of-the-century denunciation of beauty for arousing 'irregular
appetites' we have already encountered. Choice in marriage, she said,
sensibly enough, should be 'guided by Reason' ('Marriage without a
Competency', she explains realistically, 'is no very comfortable condi-
tion'); not - here comes the puritan fire - by 'Humour or brutish
Passion'.5 For the period 1680 to 1760 Dr Peter Borsay (admitting to
considerable simplification, and including, I feel I have to add, a certain
exaggeration) has summed up marriage among the middle and upper
classes as follows: 'the woman brought wealth and the man status; a
woman was as beautiful as she was wealthy, a man as handsome as
he was superior'. He also quotes 'An Epistle to a Friend' from the
Tunbridge and Bath Miscellany for the year 1714:
With scorn Clodalia's haughty face we view,
The deadn'd aspect, and the sordid hew,
Her wealth discover'd gives her features lies.
And we find charms to reconcile our eyes .. .6

Beauty, or in this case its absence, is recognised to exist; but, where mar-
riage is contemplated, beauty, as compared with wealth, is not highly
regarded, and the discovery of a woman's wealth readily led to a modi-
fication of the estimate of her looks or, more accurately, of her
desirability in the marriage stakes.
The eighteenth-century English novelist and magistrate Henry Field-
ing was a great champion of love, but he shared the traditional
equivocations and confusions over beauty. He has Squire Allworthy in
Tom Jones speak up strongly in favour of marriage being founded on
love, and against parental compulsion, avarice for a great fortune, snob-
bery for a title and lust for a beautiful person. In what Fielding, as
 GETTING MARRIED 97

author, disarmingly terms Allworthy's 'Sermon' there is some double-

tracking Allworthy opens and - as we shall see - closes with the formal
morality of the time:
For surely we may call it a Profanation to convert this most sacred Insti-
tution into a wicked Sacrifice to Lust or Avarice: and what better can be
said of those Matches to which men are induced merely by the Consider-
ation of a beautiful Person, or a great Fortune?

However, Allworthy then immediately continues, matching morality

against self-awareness: 'To deny that Beauty is an agreeable Object to the
Eye, and even worthy of some Admiration, would be false and foolish',
admitting that, 'It was my own good Fortune to marry a Woman whom
the World thought handsome, and I can truly say I liked her better on
that Account.' But then intemperate moralising takes over:
To make this the sole Consideration of Marriage, to lust after it so vio-
lently as to overlook all Imperfections for its Sake, or to require it so
absolutely as to reject and disdain Religion, Virtue and Sense, which are
Qualities, in their Nature, of much higher Perfection, because an Elegance
of Person is wanting; this is surely inconsistent with a wise Man or a good
Christian. And it is perhaps being too charitable to conclude that such
Persons mean anything more by their Marriage than to please their carnal
Appetites, for the Satisfaction of which, we are taught, it was not
ordained.7

The unwitting testimony here is that, whatever might be the intention

of sermons, there were, as always, those with a sharp and determined
eye for 'Elegance of Person'.
In Fielding's poem 'Advice to a friend on Choosing a Wife' there are
some moving lines:
A tender Heart, which while thy Soul it shares,
Augments thy Joys, and lessens all thy Cares ...

Soon, however, the language becomes intemperate, and there is a

gross confusion between beauty and artifice:
Of Beauty's subtle Poisen well beware;
Our hearts are taken e'er they dread the Snare:
Our Eyes, soon dazzled by that Glare, grow blind,
And see no imperfections in the Mind.
98 IT

Of this appriz'd, the Sex, with nicest Art,

Insidiously adorn the outward Part.
But Beauty, to a mind depraved and ill,
Is a thin gilding to a nauseous Pill;
A cheating Promise of a short-liv'd Joy,
Time must this idol, Chance may soon destroy.

And then at the end we have the moralising:

Fond of thy Person, may her Bosom glow
With Passions thou hast taught her first to know.
A warm Partaker of the genial Bed,
Thither by Fondness, not by lewdness led.8
Nothing could speak louder than this reiteration of the equation of
beauty with lewdness.
At the bottom of society, the struggle for existence continued to be so
intense that there was little time for the contemplation of beauty on the
part of either sex: 'you look at the money bag not at the face' was the
folk wisdom of the peasants of Baden, in Germany.9 In addition to their
conviction that a beautiful wife was incompatible with the rearing of
fine pigs, the peasants of the Franche-Comte had two other similar bits
of folklore: 'You can't eat beauty with a spoon'; and, 'It is better to say:
Ugly, let us have supper than to ask: Beauty, what do we have for sup-
per?' 10 In England, the wise caution was a reminder that marriage was
'more than four legs in a bed'. In any case, as Professor Olwen Hufton
reminds us about eighteenth-century France: ca woman or man who was
not pockmarked, who did not suffer from a vitamin-deficiency disease,
or from a congenital defect was in a small minority'.11
For most of history, for most people, marriage always entailed per-
sonal inclination accommodating to economic and social reality. As we
have seen, there is plenty of evidence that women have often been just
as susceptible to a beautiful male face and form as men have generally
been to the equivalent in women, and that women with the requisite
freedom and power usually acted upon 'their humour and brutish pas-
sion', as, indeed, on occasion, did humble servant girls. As we move
through the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, some women
had greater opportunities to travel further and more frequently than
ever before, and so had new opportunities to observe and respond to the
 GETTING MARRIED 99

many varieties of male beauty, without necessarily having anything in

the way of matrimony in mind - something more than temporary exci-
tation would be required for that.
In the nineteenth century, American women, as Charles Dickens
recorded in his American Notes (1842), travelled widely and unchaper-
oned. In several of her private letters the upper middle-class Mary
Hallock, who was quite accustomed to travelling alone by boat between
her home up the Hudson River and New York City, described the
people she observed. On one return journey:
The boat was pervaded by lovers. They were very funny but there was
besides something rather grand in their supreme and utter indifference to
public opinion. But I found myself after the way of the world more inter-
ested in the well-dressed and handsome lovers than the plain and awkward
ones.12

It is characteristic of traditional ideals of beauty that they are largely

derived from fictional sources (or visual representations), while the
modern appraisal of beauty is based on actual living, moving people,
even if those are seen only on film or television. Mary Hallock refers her
friend to 'Clive's blond beauty' in The Newcomes by Thackeray:
I confess to a weakness for the beauteous Clive; he is one of a series of
ardent generous gallant youths of whom I have been very fond at various
stages of my novel-reading career. Quentin Durward was about the first
and had the least intellect of any of them but even he with his honest heart,
strong arm and comely face was more satisfactory than our melancholy
subtle modern Hamlets, old before their time and weary of the world.13

Mary Hallock married in 1875, and there are many references in her let-
ters to her husband, whom she clearly loved deeply; was that reason
enough, perhaps, for never once commenting on his looks? Male
appearance did continue to fascinate her, and when, as Mary Hallock
Foote, she moved with her husband to California, she was greatly taken
by the powerful men she encountered in San Francisco:
Mr Hague is very handsome and has great harmoniousness - he never jars
- I fancy his calm philosophy conceals a gentle cynicism - but it is not evi-
dent - Mr Ashburner is prematurely gray, with keen dark eyes which give
distinction to the otherwise plain countenance — Mr Janin is dark and
strong jawed - very black, troubled-looking eyes - I speak of the men first
100 IT

because at the dinners and evenings they talked to me and because they
were rather more remarkable than the women.14

Do women pay more attention to men's eyes than men, on the whole,
pay to women's? It seems likely, as it also seems that women are more
flexible in their appraisal of looks in men than men are in appraising
women (a difference that can be of importance in matrimonial choices).
Let us, anyway, consider how, at the beginning of the twentieth century,
Katherine Mansfield (aged seventeen), travelling on an ocean liner
between Britain and New Zealand, registered in her journal her reactions
to the presence of one beautiful male:
The first time I saw him I was lying back in my chair, and he walked past.
I watched the complete rythmic movement, the absolute self-confidence,
the beauty of his body, and that [the next word is marked as illegible in
the version of the journal published much later by her husband, but pre-
sumably the word is 'longing', or 'desire' or 'excitement', or something
similar, and sufficient to upset a husband] which is everlasting and eter-
nal in youth and creation stirred in me. I heard him speaking. He has a
low, full, strangely exciting voice, a habit of mimicking others, and a keen
sense of humour. His face is clean cut, like the face of a statue, his mouth
completely Grecian. Also he has seen much and lived much and his hand
is perfectly strong and cool. He is certainly tall, and his clothes shape the
lines of his figure. When I am with him a preposterous desire seizes me, I
want to be badly hurt by him. I should like to be strangled by his firm
hands.15
So much for secret observations and hidden desires. Let us examine
an eighteenth-century marriage, and from the male point of view. What
Thomas Turner, a prosperous shopkeeper in East Hoathly, near Lewes
in Sussex, hoped from marriage was companionship and someone to
run his household: his diary evidently served a useful function in
enabling him to record his despair over the way in which his hopes were
not being fulfilled. cOh!', he exclaimed in his entry for Saturday 30
August 1755, 'what a happiness must there be in a married state when
there is sincere regard on both sides and each party truly satisfied with
each other's merit.' But, he continued, 'it is impossible for tongue or
pen to express the uneasiness that attends the contrary'. Miserably, he
notes the many quarrels between himself and his wife, constantly ago-
nising over where he had gone wrong. After another quarrel he stated,
 GETTING MARRIED 1O1

on the first day of the new year, his reasons for having married: 'I was
neither instigated to marry by avarice, ambition, nor lust. No, nor was
I prompted to it by anything; only the pure and desirable sake of friend-
ship'.16 Such motivation, obviously, coincides exactly with the
sermonising of the time. It may be that a modicum of lust would actu-
ally have gone down rather well, and that the very rationality of the
approach was what was ruining the marriage. At no time is there any
reference to his wife's looks, yet in February 1756, after another quarrel,
he describes her as cso infinitely dear to me' and 'the charmer of my
soul'. In October he states that given his chances over again he would
still make the same choice.17
One cause of marital friction may have been his wife's poor health.
In 1761 she died. There are many lamentations over her loss and trib-
utes to her qualities as a wife, tributes very much in keeping with the
notion of marriage as a rational partnership in which one certainly did
not marry for 'lust'. First he declares that 'She was undoubtedly supe-
rior in wisdom, prudence and economy to most of her sex and I think
the most neatest and cleanest woman in her person I ever beheld'.18
Eighteen months later he is lamenting that he cannot find another
woman to compare with her: 'I shall never have a more virtuous and
prudent wife than I have already been possessed of V9 A year after that
he declares that 'I have never spent hardly one agreeable hour in the
company of a woman since I lost my wife, for really there seem very
few whose education and way of thinking is agreeable and suitable with
my own'.20 The notion of the wife's role in the business of marriage
comes through in the lament of 10 November 1763: 'No one but a ser-
vant to trust the care of my concerns to or the management of my
household affairs, which are now all confusion. My affairs abroad are
neglected by my confinement at home ...' Clearly this is all deeply felt,
though in fact Turner's shop was continuing to prosper. But most sig-
nificant of all is the latter part of the very first entry lamenting his wife's
death:
I think words can convey but a faint idea of the pleasure and happiness
that a husband finds in the company of a virtuous, prudent and discreet
woman, one whose love is not founded on the basis of sensual pleasures
but on the more solid foundation of friendship and domestic happiness,
whose chief delight is to render the partner of her bosom happy.21
1O2 IT

When, at last, another woman did enter his life the first reference to
her (Monday 19 March 1764) is utterly laconic 'I dined on the remains
of yesterday's dinner. At home all day; posted my day book. Molly Hicks
drank tea with me. In the even wrote my London letters. Very little to
do all the day.' Five days later, however, the entry is much more enthu-
siastic and once again gives us an insight into the qualities Turner
looked for in a wife:
After tea my brother Richd and I took a walk (Molly Hicks, my favourite
girl, being come to pay Mrs Atkins a visit in the even, went home to her
father's, and I along with her, my brother going with her companion for
company.) We came back about 8.10. This is a girl I have taken a great lik-
ing to, she seeming to all appearances to be a girl endued with a great deal
of good nature and good sense, and withall so far as hitherto come to my
knowledge is very discreet and prudent.22
Molly was in fact working as a servant to a local JP, not an unusual
occupation for a girl from, say, the artisan or smallholding class, and
one which was reckoned an excellent training for marriage. Only with
the very last entry in the diary do we learn that she has excellent finan-
cial prospects: thus his earlier assertion that, along with lust, avarice and
ambition were no part of his motivation in seeking a wife may not have
been completely candid. On the evening of Good Friday, 5 April 1765,
he met Molly by appointment and walked home with her; the weather
being excessively bad he remained there with her till past five o'clock in
the morning. One presumes that no sexual activity took place.
The comment next day, the comment of a man lacking confidence in
himself and recalling the turbulence of his previous marriage, is: In the
even very dull and sleepy; this courting does not well agree with my
constitution, and perhaps it may be only taking pains to create more
pain.'23 There is no direct reference to an engagement, but an entry in
the diary just over a week later, mentioning that after dinner on Sunday
14 April he set out to pay Molly Hicks a visit, refers to her as 'my
intended wife'. He spent the afternoon 'with a great deal of pleasure, it
being very fine weather and my companion very agreeable. I drank tea
with her and came home about 9-3o'.24 Then, in a long entry, he con-
siders how news of his intentions will be treated in the world, 'some
likely condemning, others approving my choice'. But since the world
cannot judge 'the secret intentions' of his mind and may censure him
 GETTING MARRIED 103

though not knowing his true motives, he decides he will set down 'what
are really and truly my intentions and the only motives from which they
spring', which, he adds, 'may be of some satisfaction to those who may
happen to peruse my memoirs'. In his statement he refers first to the
general role of marriage - he puts great emphasis, it should be noted,
on marriage as a Christian duty - moving quickly to his own personal
loneliness, and then to the qualities of his intended:
as to the motives which spur me on to think of marriage, first I think it is
a state agreeable to nature, reason and religion and in some manner the
indispensable duty of Christians. For I think it is the duty of every Chris-
tian to serve God and perform his religious services in the most calm,
serene and composed manner, which if it can be performed more so in a
marriage state than a single one, it must be an indispensable duty. Now as
to my present situation, my house is not at all regular, neither is there any
family devotion performed in that serious manner as formerly in my wife's
time, nor have I one friend in the world; that is, I have not anyone whom
I can thoroughly rely upon or confide in. Neither have I anyone to trust
the management of my affairs to that I can be assured in their manage-
ment will be sustained no loss. I have not one agreeable companion to
soften and alleviate the misfortunes incident to human nature. As to my
choice I have only this to say: the girl I believe as far as I can discover is a
very industrious, sober woman and seemingly indued with prudence and
good nature, and seems to have a very serious and sedate turn of mind.
She comes of reputable parents and may perhaps one time or other have
some fortune.25

Now comes the only reference to her personal appearance (as also to his
own): 'As to her person I know it's plain (so is my own), but she is
cleanly in her person and dress (which I will say is something more than
at first sight it may appear to be towards happiness)'. There follows a
discreet comment on her figure, focusing, presumably, on her bosom,
since the remainder would have remained fairly well concealed in her
voluminous clothing: 'she is I think a well-made woman'. Immediately
he passes on to other qualities, and finally back to his overall aims in
marriage:
As to her education, I own it is not liberal, neither do I think it equals my
own, but she has good sense and a seeming desire to improve her mind,
and, I must in justice say, has always behaved to me with the strictest
104 IT

honour and good manners, her behaviour being far from the affected for-
mality of the prude, nor on the other hand anything of that foolish
fondness too often found in the more light part of the sex.

This said, he comes to what he terms his 'real intentions'. They are:
of marriage and of the strictest honour, having nothing else in view but to
live in a more sober and regular manner, and to be better able to perform
my duty to God and man in a more suitable and truly religious manner,
and with the grace of the Supreme Being to live happy and a sincere union
with the partner of my bosom.

It is important to comment that, though the diary from time to time,

with some regret, mentions bouts of drinking (from which, we have
seen, he hoped marriage would protect him), there is no suggestion that
Turner had sought sexual adventures during his years of loneliness.
Comment must also be made on his dislike of 'foolish fondness', that is
to say, manifest demonstrations of affection; this thoroughly eighteenth-
century element of would-be fastidious gentility may well have played a
part in his difficulties with his first wife. That there is affection on his
side is evident; a few days later he admits that in spending a 'delightful
evening', there was 'nothing wanting to make it so except the company
of my dear Molly'.26 The following Sunday, 28 April 1765, he once more
stays the greater part of the night with her, coming home about 4.40
a.m. Then he seriously injures his leg, and the fondness issue comes up
again:
At home all day; my leg very painful. In the even my intended wife and
her sister called to see me and sat with me some time. This may possibly
be imputed to the girl as fondness, but I must do her the justice to say I
esteem it only as friendship and good manners. For I have never met with
more civil and friendly usage from anyone of the fair sex than I have from
this girl.27
As the wedding drew near, Turner succumbed to a fever (psychoso-
matic, one can't help suspecting), and for fourteen days after the
wedding (which took place on 19 June) he suffered intermittently. At
this point the diary ends, suggesting that Turner now felt himself set-
tled. He declares that he is 'happy in my choice', continuing: 'I have,
it's true, not married a learned lady, nor is she a gay one, but I trust she
is good natured, and one that will use her utmost endeavours to make
 GETTING MARRIED 1O5

me happy, which perhaps is as much as it is in the power of a wife to

do.' His his last words, as I mentioned earlier, are, entirely in keeping
with the ethic of the time, on her economic prospects: cAs to her for-
tune, I shall one day have something considerable, and there seems to
be rather a flowing stream.'28
Turner's diary makes no mention of the procreative function of mar-
riage, though this was probably due to personal reticence, particularly
since his first marriage was childless (as also, it transpired, was his sec-
ond). But the production of children to continue the family line,
provide labour and ensure support in old age was, as we have seen, a
very strong motive behind marriage, which often meant that, in a wife,
robustness rather than beauty was what was sought. From roughly the
same period, in France, the account (somewhat dramatised) given by
the novelist Retif de la Bretonne of the courtship of his father, a hum-
ble clerk, indicates sensitivity to beauty while overwhelmingly
demonstrating the influence of employers and parents, and above all
considerations of status and wealth, in marital choice.29
I make no apology for pointing out that with Turner beauty very
much was not in the eye of the beholder: much as he esteemed Molly,
he had no illusions that her many virtues added up to beauty. What is
also striking is the emphasis on cleanliness, which really does remind us
of the age we are dealing with; when such elementary considerations
were so important, beauty for the many was something of an unreal lux-
ury. Yet just once in a while we get glimpses of how looks do figure in
personal preferences. Such a glimpse is afforded by the advertisement
placed by a country gentleman, 'fifty-two years of age next July, but of
a vigorous, strong and amorous constitution', in the Daily Advertiser
(1750). He was looking for a wife:
Tall and graceful in her person, more of the fine woman than the pretty
one; good teeth, soft lips, sweet breath, with eyes no matter what colour,
so they are but expressive; of a healthy complexion, rather inclined to fair
rather than brown; neat in her person, her bosom full, plump, firm and
white; good understanding without being a wit, but cheerful and lively in
conversation, polite and delicate of speech, her temper humane and ten-
der, and to look as if she could feel delight where she wishes to give it ...
She must consent to live entirely in the country, which, if she likes the
man, she will not be unwilling to comply with; and it is to be hoped she
1O6 IT

will have a heart above all mercenary views and honest enough not to be
ashamed to own she loves the man whom she makes her choice. She must
not be more than fourteen years, nor less than seven years, younger than
the gentleman.30

The specified age range of thirty-eight to forty-five suggests that the

breeding of children was not a consideration, but the woman had to be
personable, and there is an agreeable, and tasteful, stress on sexual
'delight'.
Now it would be absurd to suggest that marriage was a guarantee, or
a condition, of happiness for a woman in the eighteenth century.
Repeated pregnancies and births were a dreadful burden, so that some-
times wives were pleased rather than otherwise when their husbands
took mistresses and fathered children elsewhere. Nevertheless, all con-
temporary evidence indicates that, such were the attitudes, conventions
and economic realities of the time, that to remain unmarried was a
likely cause of unhappiness for a woman. It would be quite inaccurate
to maintain that the plain were the ones that did not get married (we
have Thomas Turner's testimony to the contrary), but there is evidence
to support the common-sense guess that matters were stacked against
the unprepossessing. The author of the Tableau de Paris commented
sourly on the avarice for dowries which led, he alleged, to penniless
women being condemned to the single state. Even more acid was his
comment on the plight of the many young women who had neither a
fortune nor an attractive appearance: those with beauty, he declared,
should be auctioned off to provide dowries for those without.31
The knowledge of being physically unattractive could certainly bring
bouts of misery to men. Dudley Ryder, a shopkeeper's son who, through
the prosperity of his father's business, was already in 1715 moving in gen-
tlemanly social circles, had a keen eye for female beauty, as well as a full
measure of sensuality; drink could temper the former and increase the
latter. Of one social occasion he remarked: 'There were some few pretty
ladies enough but nothing very extraordinary'. After another social
occasion he cwas very warm with drinking wine and had a mighty incli-
nation to fill a whore's commodity'.32 Joining in the social round at
Bath, he was smitten by Sally Marshall, the 'most celebrated beauty'
there. 'She had something so very agreeable in the cast of her counte-
nance and features of her face as troubled me very sensibly when I first
 GETTING MARRIED 1O/

saw her.'33 But in comparison with his handsome friend Samuel Pow-
ell, he saw himself as having no chance with Sally, remarking unhappily
on: cMy littleness and want of beauty, ill complexion, not being merry
company nor gay and diverting'.34 Whatever personal unfulfilment there
may have been, and Ryder remained single for another twenty years, his
social ascent through the legal profession was not obstructed: eventually
he became a peer and Lord Chancellor. In his forties, secure in status
and riches, he married.
Throughout the nineteenth century and beyond, wealth and status
continued to be important considerations; though under the impact of
industrialisation and romanticism there was a decline in the institution
of the arranged marriage and an increase in the freedom of young peo-
ple to make their own personal choices. As we have seen, personal
choice does not necessarily simply imply good looks; as in every age,
individuals have to accommodate to their circumstances and opportu-
nities, and to the implacable fact that, to repeat, although the beautiful
are always with us, there are always far too few of them to go round.
Beauty, and the lack of it, is noticed, commented upon, and is some-
times an obsession, with men and women. Other times it does not enter
into the reckoning.
The unpublished 'Memorial of James Howard of Manchester (1738 to
1822)', written between 1853 and 1862 by his daughter Rachel Barrow
(1789-1870), reveals, the calculation having been made that economic
circumstances were right for the selection of a wife, that beauty, at first
sight, made the vital initial impact; the follow-up 'enquiry' suggests
standard prudence (though no 'avarice') in a serious business, and per-
haps a slight touch of conventional sentimentality. Judge for yourself:
Having thus disposed of his three sisters, he looked around for a partner
for himself, having been in business some three or four years. - He was
married to Hannah Gorse in the year 1777; he saw her at chapel and was
struck by her beauty - I have been told by several of both sexes, that she
was the handsomest woman in Manchester ...
My father used to say my mother's beauty alone would not have fixed
him, if on enquiry her character had not proved to be all he could wish -
her character was the subject of praise from everyone - she was blessed
with such sweetness of temper that she was never known to shew any
angry spirit but once .. ,35
108 IT

From the beginning of the century we have an account by a journey-

man printer of his two courtships, one resulting in rejection, the other
in marriage. In his journal, dated January 1809, he is looking back after
nearly four years of a marriage in which he has allied himself to a deeply
religious family and during which he has risen to become a partner in a
printing firm. Evidently, within a very limited circle, he has acted from
personal choice, but what he sees as really governing his actions is Vise
providence'. Beauty is not mentioned:
About this time I fell in love, made an offer of marriage, but was rejected.
This I have no doubt was overruled by a wise incalculable advantage, as
had this match taken place, in all probability the person who had been
more immediately the instrument in God's hand of awakening my drousy
& languid conscience and consideration about eternity would have per-
haps never have been brought within the circle of my acquaintance. When
Annie Collie, with whom I had been long acquainted, & who had been the
object of my choice in my younger years, though the thought of my own
youth, and the danger of my affections leading to precipitancy, made me
resolve, however reluctantly to check myself in time, & break off all inter-
course at least for a time. This was done, - and after the interval of many
months, if not years, it was again commenced and for the same reasons
abandoned. - It was a considerable time after this second break off, that
my affections were engaged to the other, & to whom I proposed marriage.
- but my suit being rejected, in a few months, I resolved to attach myself
to my first love which I did, & on the 25* day of October, 1805, we were
married in her father's by the Rev James Struthers.36

A description of her engagement, seventy years later, by an upper

middle-class young lady is even more phlegmatic. In the spring of 1875
Elizabeth Hardcastle was in Rome, seeing the sights. Her diary consists
of brief, almost laconic entries, reminiscent of the formal minutes of a
business meeting. Mostly they refer to the other Britons in Rome at that
time. Miss Hardcastle is sensitive to human beauty: of one couple in the
circle she notes, 'they are both so handsome'.37 A trip to Ostia and Cas-
tel Fusano was aborted because of rain: 'Graham was to have gone in
our carriage so after breakfast he turned up and we sang a duet and then
went to the Borghese Gallery where Mr Freeman joined us'. Four days
later (Sunday, 11 April 1875) these two characters are mentioned again:
'church twice. Walked with Mr Freeman and Horace Thornton to
 GETTING MARRIED 1O9

S. Peters to hear Vespers. Graham came to tea'. The entry for the next
day consists of three sentences:

Rode with the Miss Colvilles, Captain and Mr Bland, Horace Thornton
and Graham to the Cook Valleys. Robert Graham asked me to be his wife,
which after much consideration I consented to. Mr Freeman went away
this morning.

The day following the proposal and acceptance merits two sentences,
and the bridegroom-to-be, as previously, only his surname: 'Graham
brought me over the sweetest letter from his mother. Afternoon we went
to see the Vatican pictures together.' There is no other sign of family
considerations or interest. Obviously bride and groom belonged to the
same social set; within that (considerable!) restriction this was an
authentic nineteenth-century individualistic, romantic engagement
(even if described most unromantically by the bride). Pasted in beside
the crucial entry there is a photograph of the intended: an agreeable, if
not particularly striking, member of the gentry class. Nowhere has there
been any comment on his looks, nor indeed on any of his other attrib-
utes. Yet Miss Hardcastle was a witty and highly literate young woman.
The diary opens with a sparkling description of her sister's wedding, in
which members of the bridal procession are termed 'the mourners'. The
'Cook Valleys' in the quotation above derive their name from the
tourists ('Cookies' or 'Cookisti') delivered there by the pioneering Vic-
torian travel firm Thomas Cook. The making public of the engagement
nine days later is rendered thus: 'We divulged the awful secret to the
Roman world causing thereby a great sensation'. The wedding is not
described, nor the honeymoon, though there is a full description of the
arrival at Skipness, the Graham home, the welcome by local farmers, the
settling in, the rounds of visits; there is nothing at all which hints at
physical attractiveness, let alone sexual feeling.38
The Anderson family papers at Stanford University, California, pro-
vide us with quite a full account of the courtship and first years of
marriage, in the 18705, of Melville Anderson and Charlena Van Vleeck,
educated Americans; marvellously, they also contain photographs,
so that we can see that both Melville and Charlena were pleasantly
personable, but not specially good-looking. They were thrown together
because Melville was a student in lodgings and Charlena was the
no IT

landlady's daughter. Their courtship was an undemonstrative one, and

in the early stages of marriage they happily accepted long separations in
the interests of Melville's career as an academic. In the copious letters
from both partners there is never any reference to the physical appear-
ance of the other.39 There are marriages, marriages which belong in the
public sphere, where beauty, on the part of one or other or both part-
ners is of critical importance; I shall return to a few such marriages, each
of special interest, at the end of this chapter. What my cullings from a
miscellany of letters and diaries have demonstrated is, that for the mass
of humanity, marriage is too serious a matter for beauty, or to be ruth-
lessly realistic, the absence of it, to be a crucial factor. But we all know
that, anyway, don't we? The trouble is, swamped in romantic fiction,
film and television, where every lover and every loved one is beautiful,
we don't always want to know it. This book simply seeks to record life
as it actually is: some sorts of success (which may not be to everyone's
taste anyway) depend on the entirely arbitrary chance of possessing
good looks, but lack of good looks need not necessarily be a barrier to
other types of success, and certainly not to a happy marriage. It may be
that what most men throughout history have wanted in their dreams is
to bed as many beautiful women as possible, but in the real world they
(kings as well as commoners) have recognised the need to make as 'suit-
able' (agreeable, workable, sustainable, etc.) a marriage as possible.
The fascinating French publication of 1825, The Secret of Conquering
Women and Holding Their Affections is not, as might be expected, a
guide to the arts of seduction; its fundamental premise is that it is vital
for a man to make a sensible marriage and thus it offers advice on how
men may make themselves pleasing to women, and also on how to
choose an appropriate wife. Discussing first 'The Art of Pleasing', the
book begins with 'Physical Qualities', remarking that they are the ones
that come into play almost immediately and the ones whose effects are
the most involuntary. A tall stature, regular features, good proportions
exercise from the start 'an almost irresistible power', which, the book
continues, in an interesting anticipation of evolutionist theory on this
subject, comes from 'an instinct natural to all beings to tend towards
preserving the beauty of the species'. In love there is always an element
of 'personal vanity': a woman is 'flattered to capture a man whom her
rivals find beautiful'. Evidently anxious not to lose the custom of readers
 GETTING MARRIED 111

whose stature falls short of the desirable, the author then adds the reas-
surance typical of almost all guides to personal appearance and
self-presentation: those who are short ccan often make up for this by
their grace and vivacity'; if a man is 'well proportioned one can forget
that he is small'. But it is not possible to console all customers: 'beauty
is a matter of proportion, and a fat man is as disagreeable to the eye as
an extremely thin one'; however (and perhaps this is a sop to the fat),
'thinness is less suited to love'.40
After these introductory opinions, the book settles down to practical
advice on care of the hair, the mouth, the teeth, the eyes and the eye-
brows. With regard to the mouth, it is recognised frankly that 'a man
with a sweet-smelling mouth will be most likely to invite kisses'; fur-
thermore, 'fine teeth are the finest ornament'. This highly rational
section concludes with the admonition that an indispensable quality for
pleasing women is 'cleanliness' and that in this area 'excess is quite per-
missible'.41 Then we're back with the stock-in-trade of all such guides:
'The spirit is truly the man; without it the purely physical appearance
has no charms ... with a sensitive spirit one is beautiful, with a dull one
the most regular features will give birth only to the most ephemeral pas-
sions' ('ephemeral passions', of course, may be exactly what men 'with
the most regular features' are counting on arousing, but then The Secret
of Conquering Women is about the serious business of matrimony). The
section on how to retain a woman's affections reveals a rather misogy-
nous estimate of female aspirations and fidelity. All women 'desire a
man of birth, fortune and beauty'; beauty in a woman is often destruc-
tive of the happiness of a husband - 'a lovely woman always has many
admirers and it is rare for a beautiful woman not to succumb to temp-
tation'. Beauty, then, is not a quality a man should look for in a wife;
much more important is health, without which there will 'only be
loathing and disgust, since physical attraction cannot exist without
health'. Altogether a risky business marriage, it seems. 'A man who is
much older than his wife, whatever his other qualities, must expect to
be deceived.'42 If he does marry he should marry someone 'of the same
social status; otherwise he risks humiliation'. Guides such as this,
directed solely at men, are very rare; this one is useful for reinforcing
the general picture we have of marriage as a serious business where
beauty, though it may well inspire 'ephemeral passions' (in both sexes)
112 IT

is not a highly-rated ingredient. Analogous guides for women, coun-

selling them on how to make themselves pleasing to men were,
inevitably, published by the bucket-load. I'll turn to them when, in the
twentieth century, they begin to show a change in tone which is of great
historical significance.
As travel increased and societies became more mobile, the chances of
encountering beautiful persons of the opposite sex increased. To exem-
plify that mobility, which enabled increasing comparison and appraisal
of personal appearance, we have (despite the improbable name) the life
of a German-American, Henry Theophilus Finck. Both his father and
his mother came from near Stuttgart in Germany, but they did not actu-
ally meet until they both found themselves part of a German-American
settlement in Bethel, Missouri. He was an apothecary and a gifted ama-
teur violinist. Henry was born in 1854; when his mother died a few years
later his father moved the family to Oregon, travelling via the Panama
Canal. In the predominantly German community of Aurora Mills,
Henry nurtured his ambition to traverse the entire width of America in
order to study at prestigious Harvard. There the young Finck supported
himself on scholarships, and in 1876 he graduated with highest honours,
having majored in philosophy and psychology, and also taken classes in
music. On borrowed money he travelled to the first Bayreuth Festival,
with commissions to do reports for two American journals. He wintered
in Munich, returned briefly to the US, then spent three more years on
a scholarship in Berlin, Vienna and Heidelberg. He changed his middle
name, Gottlob, to its nearest Anglo-Saxon equivalent, Theophilus. Dis-
appointed in his hopes of an academic career, he established himself as
a music critic and popular lecturer. As can be seen from the photograph
in his autobiography, Finck was a very good-looking young man, and it
is clear that, no doubt with the decorum suited to the age, he took a
lively interest in attractive young women.43 Although he was subse-
quently to bring out books on Chopin, Wagner, Grieg and Schubert, his
first book was, in the language of the time, a 'philosophical work',
Romantic Love and Personal Beauty, in which, among other things, he
made the age-old error of laying down narrow rules about beauty in
women - he declared brunettes superior to blondes (a view also pro-
moted by English guru, John Ruskin). Published in two volumes in 1887,
this tome was immensely successful in both the USA and Britain.
 GETTING MARRIED 113

So successful in fact that Finck's thoughts turned towards marriage.

Continuing his extensive travels (his appraisals of beauty in Romantic
Love and Personal Beauty were based partly on his own travels and partly
on the many travel and anthropological books pouring from the presses
in the later nineteenth century), in Spain he met a certain Mr Curry,
'and his niece Virginia, a girl of dazzling beauty', who made such an
impression on him that he decided to make her a present of the one
copy of his book which he had with him. Virginia was a blonde: Finck's
reaction to her blonde beauty demonstrates once again how feeble pre-
conceptions about what constitutes beauty (in this case concerning the
superiority of brunettes to blondes) are in face of living, breathing
beauty of whatever type. Now that preconception was rather embar-
rassing, and most unlikely to endear him to the object of his passion.
Thinking fast, he had a chappy thought': C I gave her the book after writ-
ing in it following her name: Please remember that the chapter on
'brunettes versus blondes' was written before I had seen you'. In the
event he didn't marry Virginia, 'nor did I marry one of half-a-dozen
other beauties who had temporarily dazed me'.44 I think we can safely
formulate the maxim that in marriage beauty plays the greatest part
amongst those who have the widest choice, and practically no part with
those like Thomas Turner or Charlena Anderson, whose choices are cir-
cumscribed by social circumstance and their own lack of strong physical
attractiveness.
The woman he did marry was called Abbie Helen Cushman. His
description of their first meeting both shows that the processes of get-
ting acquainted with a beautiful woman don't change much and
suggests that, whatever the conventional mode of expression, it is not so
much beautiful eyes as the eyes of a beautiful woman which thrill. Abbie
was at a concert in New York in the company of Nellie Learned, the
managing editor of the Evening Post, who was known to Finck: 'One
glance and I hastened to sit right behind them, casually as it were. I was
introduced to Abbie and the first glance of her dark merry eyes stabbed
my heart ...' Abbie was only seventeen and the marriage did not take
place for another four years. His comments on Abbie at twenty-one,
which I referred to in an earlier chapter, show (as we shall see later with
the young Sarah Bernhardt) the absurdity of the notion that men in the
nineteenth century could not appreciate beauty in women who were not
114 IT

buxom: 'She had no figure worth talking about at that time, being slight
as a school girl, which makes it all the more remarkable that I, a born
sensualist if ever there was one, should have fallen so madly in love with
her'. Not remarkable at all when one looks at the slim beauty in the
photographs reproduced in Finck's autobiography. It was, Finck con-
tinued, enumerating the conjunction of factors which can make for an
enduring marriage - at least in male-centred nineteenth-century society:
A genuine romantic love: eye love, face love, soul love. And she has a mind
as well as a soul. Music was her passion, and her preferences were usually
the same as mine. Soon she began to help me with my critical work and
after a few years she could write so cleverly in my style that few could
detect the author.45

To conclude this chapter I want to look at three marriages which have

a strong public character but which also illustrate truths observable in
private lives: first, the rather banal one of female beauty securing social
promotion; secondly, the less familiar one of similar fruits reaped by
male beauty; and, thirdly, that of marriage brought about by the inse-
curities and needs of the unprepossessing but professionally ruthless and
rapidly upward-moving male, and the skill, poise and experience of the
personable, though not beautiful female. First I go back to the mid eigh-
teenth century, and the poor but honest Gunning sisters, Elizabeth and
Maria. Despite the frequent attributions of their beauty to alleged Irish
ancestry, they were actually born in England, though brought up in
Ireland, where their father established himself as a member of the very
minor gentry.46 Unfortunately he was a spendthrift, so the family home
had to be sold. But the Gunning status was sufficient, and the mother
sufficiently knowledgeable and astute, for her to be able to wangle a
small government pension for the family. She then brought the two sis-
ters back to England and - it is as simple as that - put them on display.
(Many of the better-known portraits of the two young ladies are stiff
and formal, stressing status but lacking in allure; occasionally, as in the
mezzotint of Elizabeth by Finlayson after Catherine Read, one gets a
clear sense of what all the fuss was about: contemporaries are unani-
mous in their praises.) One could say that the sisters led careers as
beauties, not after the style of Kitty Fisher and the celebrated courtesans,
but with great care to keep reputation and everything else intact. One
 GETTING MARRIED 115

young aristocrat who took a connoisseur's interest in beautiful women

was the handsome roue James, Duke of Hamilton, so great an interest
in fact that, appreciating their rarity, he was prepared to marry one. He
had first of all proposed to Elizabeth Chudleigh, whose fame as a beauty
was only subsequently rivalled by the scandal she involved herself in as
the bigamous Duchess of Kingston. Discovering that she was already
secretly married, Hamilton turned towards her great rivals in the beauty
ratings, the Gunning girls, who, wrote a contemporary, neatly sum-
marising the business of marriage as transacted at this exalted level, 'had
luckily brought their stock in trade to a market, where beauty frequently
fetches an excellent price'.47 The price won by Elizabeth Gunning was to
become Duchess of Hamilton; a pamphlet of rhyming couplets pro-
duced by a young member of the Hamilton family celebrated the
alliance between a peer of the realm and virtuous beauty:
When Beauty spreads her Glories to View,
Our wond'ring Eyes the radiant Blaze pursue;
Enraptur'd we behold the pleasing Sight,
And lose ourselves in infinite Delight
Unruly Passions urge us to possess
The richest Treasure of a Mortal's Bliss.
But when strict Virtue guards the charming Fair
With Prudence arm'd, and Chastity severe,
We stand at Distance, and almost adore ...
The gen'rous Peer, regardless of his Blood,
Thinks it no Stoop to love the Fair and Good.
Virtue, tho' e're so low, commands Respect,
And Beauty never passes with Neglect .. ,48

Mrs Gunning had perfectly fulfilled a mother's duty. The cpoem' is sat-
urated in the all-pervading power of social heirarchy — it specifies
lower-class virtue and lower-class beauty; but it also resonates with the
raw power of beauty (even if lower-class).
Hugh Smithson, the DNB boldly pronounces, 'was the handsomest
man of his day',49 and the Gainsborough portrait (exhibited in 1783)
deliberately shows off his gorgeous legs, the perfect setting for his Order
of the Garter. Silver spoons dropped by the dozen into the mouth of
Smithson, yet it was surely his beauty (and, therefore, sex appeal) which
swept him into the marriage (strongly opposed by the bride's family)
116 IT

which led to him becoming first Duke of Northumberland in the new

creation. He was born in 1715 in Yorkshire. In 1729 he succeeded his
grandfather, Sir Hugh Smithson, as fourth baronet of Stanwick, York-
shire. Eleven years later he inherited property in Middlesex from
another relative, Hugh Smithson, Esq., of Tottenham. He became High
Sheriff of York in 1738 and MP for Middlesex in 1740. This was also the
year in which he made his brilliant marriage. Elizabeth Seymour was
daughter of Baron Percy and granddaughter of the sixth Duke of Som-
erset (who strenuously opposed the marriage). On the death of the sixth
Duke, Lady Betty's father was created Earl of Northumberland, with the
succession to Smithson and his heirs by Lady Betty. Smithson succeeded
in 1750 and in the same year assumed, by Act of Parliament, the name
and arms of the Percy family. 'For the next thirty years Northumberland
and his wife figured prominently in social and political life.'50 In 1766
Smithson (now Percy) was created Duke of Northumberland. He had
the face, the figure and the legs for it.
One of the most famous of all marriages was that between Napoleon
and Josephine; a glance at the early life of the latter brings out some of the
stranger facets of arranged, and re-arranged, marriages in eighteenth-
century France. Marie-Josephe-Rose (later Josephine) de Tascher de la
Pagerie, the eldest of three daughters, was born in Martinique in June 1763.
The family belonged to the ancient country gentry of France and still had
excellent connections there, but had fallen on hard times - Josephine's
father was a struggling sugar planter. There was talk of a marriage
alliance with Alexandre de Beauharnais, son of the powerful Marquis de
Beauharnais. Although the Beauharnais had not actually seen any of the
de Tascher de la Pagerie girls, the choice fell on the second daughter,
Josephine being considered, as the Marquis explained, too old:
I would have very much desired that your eldest daughter were several
years younger. She would certainly have had the preference, since I have
been given an equally favourable picture of her, but must declare to you
that my son, who is only seventeen and a half, finds that a young lady of
fifteen is of an age too close to his own.51

The middle sister died, and Alexandre, who was anxious to lay hands on
the inheritance which would become his on marriage, calmly agreed to
the youngest, at this time eleven and a half; her father wrote of her that
 GETTING MARRIED ll/

'health and gaiety of character are combined with a figure that will soon
be interesting'.52 Mother and grandmother united in defence of the
child, however, so that the choice at last passed to Josephine. The Mar-
quis had the banns published in Martinique, wisely leaving a blank
where the name of the bride should have been specified. Josephine sailed
across the Atlantic and the engaged couple had their first meeting at
Brest in October 1779. A long letter from Alexandre to the Marquis men-
tions many other matters before coming, courteously but unenthusias-
tically, to his intended: 'Mademoiselle de la Pagerie will perhaps seem
less pretty to you than you expect, but I believe I can assure you that the
honesty and sweetness of her character will surpass whatever people
have been able to tell you about her'.53 Alexandre got the marriage he
needed and his inheritance, then happily continued his relationship with
his mistress, Mme de Longpre. He and Josephine were legally separated
in 1785.
It was ten years later that Josephine, now a widow of thirty-one, met
Bonaparte, who was twenty-five. Josephine had never been beautiful,
but she now had great poise and self-confidence, and, as the Duchesse
d'Abrantes later wrote, 'was still charming in this period ... Her teeth
were frightfully bad, but when her mouth was shut she had the appear-
ance, especially at a few paces distant, of a young and pretty woman'.54
Several portraits of her cin this period' (portentous words), among them
one by Gros, show her as certainly personable. Napoleon was pale, thin
and awkward-looking. He afterwards recalled:
One day when I was sitting next to her at table, she began to pay me all
manner of compliments on my military qualities. Her praise intoxicated
me. From that moment I confined my conversation to her and never left
her side. I was passionately in love with her, and our friends were aware
of this long before I ever dared say a word about it.55

Two weeks after their first meeting Napoleon was appointed Comman-
der-in-Chief of the Army of the Interior. They could well have drifted
apart; it was Josephine who took the initiative in writing to him. Even
after they were married they were necessarily much apart; she may have
had one extramarital affair, but she certainly became, and remained, an
excellent wife as he became Emperor of France. But fate is unfair in
many matters other than the distribution of beauty. Josephine failed to
118 IT

produce a son, a necessity if Napoleon's dynastic ambitions were to be

fulfilled. Napoleon divorced her in 1809. He was Emperor; she was an
ageing woman, and - though still an international figure - died a lonely
one in i8i4.56
 6

Grandes Horizontales

A rich and important public figure takes a beautiful lover. A son is born,
but shortly afterwards the lover dies of consumption. Sometime later,
the important person marries a gorgeous young thing ten years younger,
who, however, the honeymoon over, is ditched. Earlier in the century
an even more famous celebrity, whose beauty was much commented on,
and who was in effect the first widely appreciated heart-throb, perhaps
even the first pin-up, in history, had sought to maintain a much-
admired elegance of figure through pioneering attempts at slimming.
The rich public figure was Hortense Schneider, the original Belle Helene
(1864) in Offenbach's operetta of that name. The lover who died of con-
sumption was the Due de Gramont-Caderousse. The beautiful deserted
young spouse was the feckless Italian Emile Brionne, who called himself
the Comte de Brionne. Schneider was famous in her own right as undis-
puted leading lady in the highly successful Offenbach operettas, able to
chose her lovers, who included the Khedive of Egypt and the Due de
Morny. Surviving into her eighties (until 1920, in fact), she lived out her
later life graciously, devoting herself to her mentally challenged son.1
Born in 1833, Catherine Schneider was the daughter of a Bordeaux tai-
lor. She was stage-struck at a very early age, but as a poor but beautiful
girl she was, in the career structure I have already identified, set to work
where she could display her looks, in a shop. This was her first step
towards the career she desired. Energetic and dedicated, she spent her
limited spare time at a rather rudimentary sort of drama school; even
more important, she encountered an elderly musician, Nestor Schaffner,
who was so captivated by her beauty that he committed himself to giv-
ing her singing lessons - also recommending the change of name to
Hortense. She was now prepared for the second step, joining the theatre
at Agen as an opera singer. Here she worked with fanatical zeal, her tal-
ent and looks attracting a number of devoted male admirers. They
12O IT

provided the funds to get her to Paris - step number three. In Paris her
beauty won her an influential protector, who introduced her to Offen-
bach. To star in operetta she had to be beautiful; but it was because of
her exceptional singing voice that the famous composer signed her up,
projecting her into her illustrious career.
The famous celebrity from earlier in the century was Lord Byron,
whose slimming campaign involved hot baths, copious drafts of vinegar,
and violent exercise. He used curlers in his hair and sometimes adopted
exotic costume. Reputed 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know', Byron was
famous as a poet, traveller, lover, and for his looks. Those women who
actually did meet him, I should add, commented also on the allure of
his voice. 'The tones of Lord Byron's voice were always so fascinating,
that I could not help attending to them', declared the novelist Amelia
Opie, adding that it was 'such a voice as the devil tempted Eve with; you
feared its fascination the moment you heard it'. At a small evening
party, Jane Porter, author of a book on The Scottish Chiefs, was dis-
tracted 'by the most melodious Speaking Voice I had ever heard. It was
gentle and beautifully modulated. I turned round to look for the
Speaker and saw a Gentleman in black of an Elegant form ... and with
a face I shall never forget.'2 Distant admirers never heard the voice, but
could, through engravings, swoon over the face ('so beautiful a face I
scarcely ever saw', said another contemporary), while also swooning
over the poems.
Despite my little game, I can't pretend to be demonstrating any real
reversal in sex roles - we've already seen that a man could be admired
for his looks while a woman could achieve some of the freedoms of a
man through exploitation of her beauty. Byron's success was based pri-
marily on his talents as a poet, though that was fortified by his sex
appeal. Schneider's success was based on the vital conjunction of beauty
and a willingness to trade sex for early advancement in her career; only
once launched, did her exceptional musical talent and singing voice
become critical. There was a whiff of admiration in the epithet applied
to Schneider and the other rich and eminent women who made similar
careers during the period from roughly 1840 to 1914, 'Grandes Horizon-
tales', but there was also a demeaning odour of disrepute, of belonging
to the not wholly respectable demi-monde. No such label was ever
applied to a whole class of men (and, one may add, the deformed foot,
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 121

which enhanced Byron's romantic appeal, would on a woman have sab-

otaged any claim to beauty). Schneider's connection with some of the
most famous men of the day was recognised in a still more vulgar sobri-
quet, derived from the name of an alleyway near the rue de Richelieu:
she was known as the Passage des Princes. Only when beautiful women
(as well as beautiful men) are selling sex appeal, not sex, only when
beautiful women are celebrities, not as courtesans, but solely as film
stars, singers and fashion models, has the modern evaluation of beauty
eclipsed the traditional one.
We are now well into the first era of industrialisation and of capital-
istic entrepreneurship, of railways, steamships, and mechanical means
of reproducing images, often images of beautiful people (engravings,
then photographs). This period, the period of King Louis-Philippe
(1830-48), President Louis Napoleon (1848-51), who established the
Second Empire (1851-70), with himself as Emperor Napoleon III, and
La Belle Epoque (end of the nineteenth century, beginning of the twen-
tieth), and also of that international phenomenon Victorianism, while
one of gigantic material change, was, in attitudes to sex and to beauty,
very much one of more of the same - much, much, more! But it was
also the period of the last of the same, marking the culmination of the
process whereby beautiful women, in order to achieve fame and fortune,
had first to trade sex. There were more renowned courtesans than ever
before, many also being famed for their association with show business,
and some for running salons. These grandes horizontales were recruited
from an ever-increasing range of nationalities and social classes. Of the
twenty-six most celebrated beauties of the Parisian demi-monde, three
were Italian, three British, one Spanish, one Austrian and one Russian;
from Paris, one took her assets for a spell in Budapest, another for a
spell in London, three for spells in St Petersburg. Lola Montez and La
Belle Otero went to America, as, from Britain, did dance troupe 'The
British Blondes' and courtesan and actress Lillie Langtry. Two were
from the nobility, four from the respectable middle classes, twenty
(including Schneider) from 'the popular classes'. The best way of giving
meaning to that term, which, broadly, comprises the lower middle class,
the urban and rural working class, and the yet lower class of itinerants
and casual workers, the 'residuum' as it was called in Victorian Britain,
is to look individually at some of them.3
122 IT

Therese Jachmann (later Blanche and later still cLa Paiva'), born in
1819, was the daughter of a tailor in the Moscow ghetto. Apollonie
Sabatier, christened Aglae-Josephine, was born in 1822, the illegitimate
daughter of a washerwoman in the Ardennes who shortly married a sol-
dier called Savatier. Rose Alphonsine Plessis (Marie Duplessis,
fictionalised as cLa Dame aux Camelias'), born in 1824, was the daugh-
ter of a pedlar in Normandy. Elisabeth-Celeste Venard (the actress,
'Mogador'), also born in 1824, was illegitimate and brought up errati-
cally by her mother, who for a time worked as a cashier in a hatters; at
sixteen Celeste became a registered prostitute, being for a time confined
c
for her own safety' to the women's prison at St-Lazare, and falling heav-
ily into debt with her brothel keeper (just another occupational hazard
for prostitutes). Eliza Emma Couch (Cora Pearl) was born around 1835
in Plymouth, the daughter of a music teacher of Irish origins, who
shortly deserted her mother. Born in 1837 to a poor family in Reims,
Jeanne Detourbey worked first as a wool picker in a factory, then as a
bottle washer in a Reims champagne house. Anna Deslions, mistress of
Louis Napoleon's cousin, Prince Napoleon, was a 'working-class girl of
exceptional beauty'.4 When Spanish troops invaded south-west France
in 1841 they fathered a number of illegitimate children: one was Marie
Colombier, later actress, courtesan and chronicler of the demi-monde.5
The origins of Caroline Letessier (who after a sojourn in St Petersburg
came back to rival Schneider as a singer and courtesan), 'Emilienne
d'Alen^on' (like many others she assumed the noble-sounding title) and
Giulia Beneni ('La Barucci') are even more obscure, though it is possi-
ble that Letessier's foster-father was a butcher, while it is known that La
Barucci was born in Rome; d'Alen^on, at fifteen, ran off with a gypsy.
Catherine Walters ('Skittles') was born in 1839, the daughter of a minor
customs officer in Liverpool. Marie-Ernestine Antigny (who styled
herself Blanche d'Antigny, and did so well in St Petersburg that she
returned with a letter of introduction to the Palais Royale operetta),
born in 1840, was the daughter of a carpenter in Martizay, near
Bourges. Julie Leboeuf ('Marguerite Bellanger', eventually mistress to
Emperor Napoleon III), also born in 1840, came from an agricultural
worker's family near Saumur, and got a job as a hotel chambermaid,
then as a circus acrobat and bareback rider. Leonide Leblanc, born in
1842, was the daughter of a stone breaker. All of these were courtesans
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 123

of note under Louis-Philippe or during the Empire of Napoleon III.

From among the famous courtesans of la belle epoque, Louise Delabigne,
who took the name Yolaine de la Bigne and, painted by Manet, was the
inspiration for Zola's Nana, was born in 1848 to a Parisian laundress,6
Caroline Otero came from a Spanish gypsy family, and Lina Cavalieri
(born in Rome, 25 December 1874) from an unknown Italian one.
These bare details of birth and origins say no more than that it was
possible for a woman of the humblest background to achieve the wealth
and celebrity of the demi-mondey to a degree that, Nell Gwyn notwith-
standing, had not been true of previous centuries. The same elements of
ambition, determination, strategy and luck were required, as we shall see
from looking further at some individual cases. Were all of the grandes
horizontals beautiful, and was beauty the essential prerequisite? From
both the visual and written evidence it is absolutely clear that twenty-
five out of the twenty-six courtesans I am speaking of possessed a beauty
which we would, most of us, recognise today, and which spirited men
recognised at the time. With La Paiva, it is less clear.7 From written tes-
timony it is evident that she had a superb figure - womanly breasts and
curves set within a slim, girlish figure: combined with her youthfulness
(she was seventeen when - we don't know exactly how - she arrived in
Paris). This made her devastatingly attractive enough for her to move
rapidly out of common prostitution and into the realm of the kept
woman. She had large, fiery eyes and sensuous lips, but there were many
adverse comments on her face, particularly on the shape of her nose. It
may be that she was thought to look too Jewish (and perhaps too openly
sexy) for comfort, while actually having a type of beauty which many
powerful men (including, during a profitable stay in London, the British
Prime Minister, Lord Derby) found irresistible - her social ascent is
indisputable as, through her professional services, she accumulated
wealth and, through brilliant marriages, became successively Marquise
de Paiva, then Countess Henschel von Donnersmarch. Or it may be
that, along with Ninon de Lenclos, Mesdames de Pompadour and de
Stael, she was one of those exceptions, who, personable rather than
beautiful (though certainly not plain), captivated and exploited men
through force of character. In an excellent and thorough book, Virginia
Rounding is unable to do other than fall back upon those stock phrases
we encounter so often, telling us that La Paiva 'was not conventionally
124 IT

beautiful' while possessing 'undeniable, but indefinable, sexual allure'.8

There being no portraits, and the written evidence being in conflict, the
question must remain an open one.
The looks of Cora Pearl - as well as her manners and speech - were
also much criticised. Alphonse Daudet (author ofLettres de mon moulin)
wrote of her 'hideous head', and that her 'lithe young body', grudgingly
admitted in passing, was no compensation for the 'sewer of a mouth'
and 'comic English accent'.9 The Comte de Mugny, in his Le Demi-
Monde sous le Second Empire (1892, published under the pseudonym
'Zed') recalled of her:
English by birth, character and allure, she had the head of a factory
worker, neither good nor bad, violent blonde, almost red, hair, and
unbearably vulgar accent, a raucous voice, excessively course manners,
and the behaviour of a stable-boy.10
Her colossal success with rich and powerful men, de Mugny com-
plained, was beyond his comprehension. We are still in an era where
judgements on a person's appearance could be heavily affected by snob-
bishness. In fact, Cora Pearl was enthusiastically bedded by every rich
and powerful Frenchman who could get his hands on her. From her
portraits we can see why: her face was perfectly proportioned, slightly
boyish as is sometimes the way with the Irish, and, in sum, enticingly
beautiful. Today's expert on courtesans, Kate Hickman, however, once
again offers her own favourite explanation: Cora Pearl, 'like all success-
ful courtesans had the gift of being able to make men think she was
beautiful'11 - for myself, I think it's simpler than that, and that the gift
Cora Pearl had was beauty. A photograph of 'Skittles', the Liverpool girl,
Catherine Walters, taken around 1860, shows her as very much the ele-
gant, aristocratic-looking, seductive woman of the world, as beautiful
(to the man without preconceptions or prejudices) as Cora Pearl,
though an entirely different type. She fitted Zed's snobbish tastes:
English like Cora Pearl, but as beautiful, elegant, distinguished, and
graceful, as Cora Pearl was lacking in these qualities. She had blonde
hair, a natural blonde, deep blue eyes, striking complexion, perfectly
proportioned features, slim build, aristocratic curves: a real keepsake.12

Fashion will be fashion, and, naturally, hairstyles, costume, etc.,

changed over time, but beauty itself came to the fore in an increasing
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 125

range of types. Generally, but not exclusively, beauties in the nineteenth

century were plumper than those of the early twenty-first century. How-
ever, Marie Duplessis, Alice Ozy, Lola Montez, Caroline Letessier, Cleo
de Merode, and Emilienne d'Alen^on, as also Sarah Bernhardt (when
young) were notably slim (a contemporary noting — probably quite
erroneously - that Duplessis would not have suited the Turks). Facial
appearances varied enormously and were certainly not tied to particu-
lar sub-periods (Second Empire, or Belle Epoque, say). La Barucci
(Second Empire) was dark with strong, striking Italian features, while
Blanche d'Antigny matched convention exactly with her sweet, slightly
chubby face, dimpled chin and plump figure. Leonide Leblanc was a
blonde with a plump face and a turned up nose. Cavalieri (Belle
Epoque), under dark hair, had delicate soulful features; but then La Belle
Otero (also Belle Epoque) had the heavy looks of the Spanish gypsy that
she was.
The careers of these women involved an intelligent, calculating,
exploitation of their looks, sometimes bringing in ancillary talents, such
an ability to sing, act, dance or ride. The exploiter might be solely the
woman herself, or, in the early stages at least, an 'agent' (usually male,
but possibly female). In conversation with the actress Judith Bernat,
Marie Duplessis seemed to be assuming total responsibility for her own
destiny: 'Why did I sell myself? Because honest work would never have
brought me the luxury I craved for, irresistibly ... I wanted to know the
refinements and pleasures of artistic trade, the joy of living in elegant
and cultivated society'.13 In fact the first to perceive the commercial
value of her beauty had been her own father, who, in effect, sold her for
a year to a wealthy septuagenarian in Normandy.14 Rose Alphonsine (as
she still was) then took herself off to Paris, her looks securing her the
jobs (still relatively menial) which at least kept her clear of the registered
brothels while she was also working on her own account as a prostitute.
We have portraits, including the one by Edouard Vienot (c. 1845), and
the later description (1888) by Romain Vienne already alluded to:
She was tall, slender, fresh as a spring flower; the beauty of her body was
perhaps lacking in that fullness so appreciated by the Turks, in that rich-
ness of shapely curves without which there is no perfection. A painter
would have chosen her as a model, a sculptor never. But she was deli-
ciously pretty. Her long, thick, black hair was magnificent, and she
126 IT

arranged it with inimitable skill. Her oval face with its regular features,
slightly pale and melancholy when calm and in repose, would suddenly
come to life at the sound of a friendly voice ... She had the head of a child.
Her mouth, sweet and sensual, was ornamented with dazzlingly white
teeth.15

A widower named Nollet, also spotting her dazzling potential,

encouraged her to change her name to the grander sounding Marie
Duplessis. Her plunge into the society to which she aspired was achieved
when she became the mistress of the Due de Guche-Gramont. There-
after she had merely to appear, at the theatre, at a dance, in a salon, to
attract the attention of the rich, or the celebrated, such as the novelist
Alexandra Dumas fils, who based his later La Dame aux Camelias on
the Duplessis who had set herself up in a lavish suite on the Boulevarde
de la Madeleine, and with whom he had a passionate and ill-starred
affair. The real Rose Alphonsine Plessis was only twenty-three when, on
3 February 1847, she, like La Dame aux Camelias ('Marguerite Gautier'),
died of consumption; beauty had taken her out of a squalid social back-
ground, but it could not overcome the disease which was probably also
the legacy of that background. Giuseppe Verdi transformed Dumas' tale
into the opera La Traviata, with the tragic heroine renamed Violetta: in
Act Two Violetta has forsaken her former luxurious life to live simply
in the country with her young admirer, Alfredo. In a heart-rending
episode at the end of the act Alfredo's father persuades Violetta to
give up Alfredo since his association with her is ruining his sister's
chance of marrying. Less noticed is the father's use of the clinching
argument that, living unmarried and in poverty with Alfredo, she will
be utterly helpless once age destroys her beauty and with it Alfredo's
love. 'E vero!', exclaims Violetta, whose former life has schooled her in
the way of the world.
Celeste Venard recounted what it was like to be a registered prostitute:
What torture we suffered! To have to laugh when you wanted to weep, to
be dependent and humiliated when you pay so dearly for the little you
possess! If someone killed the wretched creatures who expose themselves
to this, they would do them a service ... Love takes a cruel revenge on the
women who profane its image.16

She explained how she hoped, through prostitution, to transmute looks

 GRANDESHORIZONTALES 127

into wealth: CI saw myself rich, and covered with lace and jewels. I
looked at myself in my little bit of mirror; I was really pretty ...' 17 Only
because of her beauty did she escape; one of her clients - apparently also
impressed by her desire to become an actress - buying out her debts to
the brothel. Of her career, Venard wrote: 'Fortunately for me, I had
understood from the first that a love affair is like a war, and that tactics
help you to win it.'18 After her release from the brothel, modest success
came, not in acting, but as a dancer, first at the Bal Mabille on the
Champs Elysees, where it was her partner Brididi who gave her the com-
pelling name of Mogador, after the fortress in Morocco just captured by
French toops, and then at the Theatre Beaumarchais. An affair with the
leading circus impresario Laurnet Franconi led to an engagement (brief,
as it transpired) as an equestrienne; a further one with the Duke of
Ossuna established her as a grande horizontale. Dancing and horse-
womanship had been excellent ways of displaying an adorable figure.
There are two slightly unusual aspects to the career of Apollonie
Sabatier (she modified her stepfather's name, then became known as La
Presidente) which engage our attention. First, she is one of the few great
beauties whose physical allure is best known through a work of sculp-
ture, La Femme piquee par un serpent of 1847, in which Auguste
Clesinger represents a nude Apollonie, obviously in the final throes of
sexual ecstasy. Secondly, she comes over as much less calculating than
most of the other women being discussed here, never suppressing the
fascination (generally impecunious) artists and bohemians had for her;
indeed she worked for a time as an artists' model in Paris. Even when,
in 1846, she moved into the fairly comfortable, settled life (she was never
totally financially secure) as the mistress of the wealthy industrialist
Alfred Mosselman, the noteworthy point is that he was a great patron
of the arts. The title 'La Presidente' recognised her eminent position in
the salon established by Mosselman; the all-consuming love affair which
gives her something of the historical significance of a Ninon de Lenclos
or Mme de Stael was that with the poet Charles Baudelaire.
Like many another comely woman in poor circumstances, Blanche
d'Antigny had begun as a shop girl, attracting the attention of a visiting
gentleman who took her with him to his native Bucharest, where the
single compensating circumstance was that she learned to ride.19
Quickly back in Paris, she got a job as a rider at the Cirque d'hiver which
128 IT

led, two years later, to an engagement as the 'living statue' of La Belle

Helene in Faust at the Theatre de la Porte Saint-Martin. Within a cou-
ple of weeks she was launched as a courtesan. Skill in horseriding, which
she somehow acquired when her family moved out from Liverpool to
the nearby Wirral peninsula, was also an important factor in the rise of
Catherine Walters to eminence as the grande horizontal Skittles.20 Her
first important employment when she went to London in search of fame
and fortune was in showing off horses (and, concomitantly, herself).
Her first truly important lover in London was Lord Hartington; but
prospects were steadier in the Paris of Louis Napoleon, whither she
betook herself.
Marie Dolores Eliza Rosanna Gilbert (cLola Montez'), born in Limer-
ick, Ireland, in 1818, reared in India, educated at Montrose in Scotland
and at Bath, in England, came of a respectable English middle-class
family. To escape an arranged marriage with an elderly, though very rich
supreme court judge in India, she eloped with, and married, a young
officer, who subsequently deserted her.21 She was beautiful (see espe-
cially the portrait by Joseph Carl Stieler), but she had to earn her living
- so she took lessons in Spanish dancing. Though she had no great tal-
ent for it, it was upon dancing that, as Lola Montez, she founded her
career as a European lover (she had a much-publicised affair with the
great romantic composer and pianist Franz Liszt), courtesan (she was a
celebrity in the Paris of the 18405, and inherited considerable wealth from
the newspaper proprietor Henri Dujarier), and adventuress (supremely
confident in her looks, she forced herself on King Ludwig I of Bavaria).
Nicknamed 'the new Du Barry', she was, until the Revolution of 1848,
effectively the uncrowned Queen of Bavaria.
Dance was the first career of Cleo de Merode, and dance or mime the
main second string and means of self-display for such contemporaries
as Caroline Otero (who visited the United States in 1890) and Anne-
Marie Chassaigne ('Liane de Pougy' - one of those who took her assets
for a spell in Russia, and to whom Sarah Bernhardt gave the advice:
'Display your beauty, but once on the stage you had better keep your
pretty mouth shut').22 A nice variation was practised by Emilienne
d'Alen^on, who began attracting attention, and rich lovers, by perform-
ing an act with trained rabbits at the Cirque d'ete (and so may have been
an inspiration for the fictional Zuleika Dobson, whose forte was per-
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 129

forming conjuring tricks on stage); later d'Alen9on kept herself on dis-

play by doing her act at the Folies Bergere. Lina Cavalieri had more
orthodox talents as an actress and opera singer.
Have I taken it too much for granted that these women were well
rewarded for their skilful deployment of their double-edged sword, one
edge beauty, the other sex? Duplessis, we saw, died at twenty-three. La
Barucci, risen also from poverty, at around thirty-three, and also from
consumption. From her late thirties till her death in her fifties Cora
Pearl led a sad, neglected existence. Blanche d'Antigny died at thirty-
four. For those who lived out their allotted span there was, of course,
no avoiding the ravages and pains of age. Consorting at one time with
the King of Belgium, Emilienne d'Alen9on, after the First World War,
became a drug addict and ended her life in misery. But most amassed
considerable fortunes, and some acquired genuine titles. Alice Ozy
(born Julie-Justine Pilloy, in 1820), whose foster mother had exploited
her charms by having her serve in the family jeweller's shop, accumu-
lated enough lovers as an actress to be able to retire early from the stage,
and made so much out of them that, even when all her looks had gone,
she could afford a succession of young lovers.23 Lola Montez, back in
England, married a rich officer ten years her junior, but, accused of
bigamy, had to flee to the USA, where she had a prosperous career as a
lecturer and writer on women's rights, and on 'beauty'.24
Anne-Marie Chassaigne came from a respectable middle-class family,
making a sound marriage to a naval officer. She, however, made the
decision to leave him and their child, believing, rightly, that her great
beauty could be turned to good account in the Parisian demi-monde.
Fellow horizontales christened her Liane, and from her first important
client she borrowed the name de Pougy. After a long career as reputedly
'the most beautiful courtesan of the century' (not really a statement of
absolute value - Cavalieri was reputedly 'the most beautiful woman in
the world'),25 she married the Roumanian Prince Georges Ghika, many
years younger than herself, and lived for twenty-seven years as part of
the international set - then entered a convent.26 That Jeanne Detourbey
was genuinely beautiful is attested by verbal accounts, by the reactions
she aroused,27 and by the 1862 portrait in the Louvre by Amaury-Duval.
Her early rise from her proletarian origins was that of any other fledg-
ling courtesan, attributable, in the words of Cornelia Otis Skinner, to 'an
130 IT

inborn intelligence and a calculating evaluation of her own beauty and

God-given charm'.28 She came, naturally, to Paris, where one of her first
noteworthy lovers was Marc Fournier, director of the Theatre de la
Porte Saint-Martin. That an acting career sometimes required talent as
well as beauty is suggested by the fact that Detourbey did not persevere
with a career on the stage. She moved on to a more prestigious lover,
celebrated in both monde and demi-monde, Emile de Girardin, owner of
La Presse, founder of La Liberte, and a practising politician, through
whom she encountered, and had a brief liaison with, 'Plon-Plon', Prince
Napoleon. After an affair with the unavoidable Alexandre Dumas fils she
succeeded in marrying the Comte de Loynes. Although the outraged
family were able secure the annulment of the marriage, Jeanne clung
onto the title and a substantial inheritance. She perhaps more than any-
one had the last laugh, using her well-gotten gains to support the
celebrated salon that she ran from 1870 to 1908.
One famous, or perhaps infamous, figure from La Belle Epoque I have
not yet mentioned. Margarethe Zelle ('Mata Hari') came from a solid
Dutch family, but her father went bankrupt. She answered a Dutch
army captain's advertisement for a wife, and went to Java with him.
Then, in 1902, aged twenty-six, she turned up in Paris. No buxom
Dutch blonde, she was tall (five foot ten inches) and willowy with a
dark, almost oriental beauty. The glory days of celebrated Grandes Hor-
izontales were coming to an end — France of La Belle Epoque was also
France of the worthy Third Republic. Accordingly Zelle never had the
easy success of an Otero or a Cavalieri, and so drew upon her experi-
ences in Java, and her sensual looks, to create the character of Mata
Hari, making her way by doing exotic, nearly nude, 'oriental' dances.
She was also, as a Dutch national who spoke French, German, Spanish
and English, something of an Horizontale Internationale. Unfortunately
the international order was breaking up, Europe hastening towards
the greatest, most horrific, most bitter war ever. Margarethe had always
(as she cheerfully admitted) been susceptible to the sex appeal of a mil-
itary uniform. She was a woman of many talents and a strong
personality; but she had no understanding of the intense hatreds being
generated at that time between, above all, the French and the Germans,
and of the suspicions aroused by her, so to speak, international con-
nections. Fundamentally her way of life was to maintain her high,
 GRANDESHORIZONTALES 131

though precarious, standard of living by performing whatever services

men asked of her. When war broke out in July 1914, she happened to be
performing in Berlin: she had a dance engagement, while among her
lovers were a naval officer, an army officer and the Berlin Chief of
Police. British suspicions were aroused, although partly, at least, because
there was confusion with another woman who definitely was a German
spy. Mata Hari returned to the Netherlands, a neutral country, but dull
and uncomfortable to live in, despite the fact that she was funded by the
rich Baron Van der Capellen. She was approached by a German consul,
Cramer, and accepted 20,000 French francs to seek out French military
secrets (which she always said she had no intention of doing). The lure
of Paris was intense. In a Dutch ship she went first to Britain, where she
was arrested on espionage charges, then released on the understanding
that she went on to Spain and not back to the Netherlands. In Spain she
consorted with the German authorities, and may (or may not) have had
the official designation 'Agent H-2i\ Paris, however, was her intended
destination (she had some notion of meeting up with the then domi-
nant genius in the world of dance, Diaghilev). In Paris, spymaster
Captain Ladoix, who had been warned about Mata Hari by the British,
asked her to spy for France; she expressed willingness and demanded a
million francs (it was not forthcoming, but Ladoix was confirmed in his
suspicions as to her true nature). Meantime she was receiving sums of
money, particularly from Van der Capellen, which to austere French
intelligence officers seemed excessive for a mere kept woman. On the
morning of 13 February 1917 she was arrested in the Elysee Palace Hotel
on the Champs Elysees. From then till 21 June she was, in the Saint
Lazare prison, subjected to intense interrogation. As part of her equip-
ment as a courtesan she carried a liquid spermicide which she used as a
postcoital spray; her interlocutors were convinced of its use as invisible
ink. Never in any way a dedicated professional spy, and never in any way
responsible for the terrible military disasters which in 1917 were corrod-
ing all French reason and all French judgements, Mata Hari had
undoubtedly been monumentally indiscreet, and she now, as the lead-
ing upholder of her innocence, Sam Waagenaar puts it, 'talked herself
into death'.29 Sitting for less than two days, on 24 and 25 July 1917, her
military tribunal found her guilty on eight charges of spying for the Ger-
mans and condemned her to be shot by firing squad. On 15 October she
132 IT

was rushed by car from central Paris out to the military complex at
Vincennes, where the sentence was promptly carried out. Mata Hari
died with exemplary courage, refusing to be tied to the execution post
or to be blindfolded.
Some courtesans actually started out from quite elevated social
circles. Cleo de Merode had a real entitlement to her particule (she was
from the Austrian branch of the family) and was certainly born into
quite a substantial lifestyle. The Countess of Castiglione, included in my
count of three Italians, was a courtesan more in the old courtly style
than in that of the brash nineteenth-century demi-monde. Having
been the mistress of the brilliant Piedmontese politician (and architect
of Italian unification) Count Cavour, she was sent by him to the court
of Louis Napoleon to influence the Emperor in favour of Piedmont.
Castiglione was scarcely successful in her mission, but she clearly
enjoyed her status as imperial mistress and much-desired lady of the
court.30
Such ambition and intrigues were alien to the puritan, republican cul-
ture of the United States, where, however, the printing presses had got
moving early in the reproduction of images of beautiful women. In her
authoritative and scholarly study, American Beauty (confined, of course,
to women), Lois W. Banner argued that in the United States what was
considered beautiful in women changed every twenty years or so: before
the Civil War the frail, willowy woman, described by Banner as the
'steel-engraving lady', dominated the fashion magazines; in the decades
after the Civil War favour switched to the heavy, buxom model of
beauty, termed by Dr Banner the Voluptuous woman'; in the 18905 the
vogue was for tall, athletic, 'natural' women, this image crystallizing in
the 'Gibson Girl' of the satirical drawings of Charles Gibson.31 The
notion of changing fashions in beauty has been central to all standard
(and female-originated) histories of the subject; given the meticulous
documentation which supports Banner's impressive monograph, it is
impossible to doubt that she produces an accurate representation of
changing emphasis in the fashion magazines, and perhaps even in types
of actresses and chorus girls involved in popular entertainments. In any
case, Banner does acknowledge that no one type ever really completely
dominated popular taste.32 Actually what made a woman prized for her
beauty, in the USA as well as eveiywhere else in the West, was not her
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 133

conformity to a particular fashion, but her being the most perfect spec-
imen of her particular type of beauty. The two best-known American
beauties of the late nineteenth century were the actresses Lillian Russell
and Marie Doro: they are very different, Russell the blonde doll, appeal-
ingly innocent looking, Doro brunette with a cheeky up-turned nose.
Banner identifies Lillian Russell, leading star of the popular musical
stage from the late 18705 onwards, as personifying the Voluptuous
woman'. Yet, Banner's own scrupulous account of Lillian Russell's
appeal scarcely supports this generalisation: she had a 'lithe figure' and
was known as 'airy fairy Lillian'.33 Slightly oddly, in my view, Banner
then continues:
As Russell grew older, her originally lithe figure grew heavier, as though
she felt herself obliged to modify her appearance to conform to a standard
that the British Blondes, among others, had originally established. More
than this, she loved to eat .. ,34

The British Blondes, a troupe of, for the time, shockingly sexy dancers,
had first hit New York in 1868, and had had their 'triumphant march'
through the United States in 1869 and again in 1872. If the voluptuous
model which they allegedly established was so important, why was Lil-
lian Russell with her lithe figure and 'airy, fairy' appearance so successful
in the late 18705 and early i88os? It seems likely that she grew heavier as
she grew older because, in the normal course of events, people do,
unless they exercise special care with their diet, which evidently Lillian
did not do. That she became a byword for beauty through to 1890 is not
to be doubted: 'For two decades she was the most photographed woman
in America, and people went to see her plays to see more than the pro-
ductions.'35 Nor can there be any doubting the testimony of the late
i88os: 'She was a voluptuous beauty, and there was plenty of her to see.
We liked that. Our tastes were not thin or ethereal.'36 Yet the well-
known photograph of her dating from 1889 shows not so much the
'avoirdupois' identified by Banner in commenting on this portrait,37 as
a lovely fresh face and elegant figure. Of Banner's conclusion that 'she
incarnated the voluptuous woman and brought elegance to the ideal',38
the latter part seems to me more to the point than the former. Russell
had established her popularity before filling out to voluptuous contours;
once established, her enormous celebrity was not affected by the scarcely
134 IT

abnormal or contrived fact that she subsequently put on weight. In any

one decade or generation different tastes and proclivities coexist;
women of different ages will be competing for the limelight, older ones
with the advantage of popularity, triumphs, and status already achieved,
younger ones with the advantage of youth and perhaps novelty, but a
shape acceptable in the one may not be in the other.
The most important development in the United States with respect to
the growth of a modern evaluation of beauty, and enhanced life chances
for the beautiful, was the invention of the commercial beauty contest.
The 'commercial' must be stressed because forms of beauty contest went
far back into the past, with the crowning of a queen at May Day or other
local festivals, and were part of the traditional vision of women as inher-
ently the beautiful sex. The modern, American element was the attempt
to capitalise commercially on the appeal of beauty. The great pioneer
entertainments entrepreneur Phineas T. Barnum had attempted to
organise a live beauty competition in the 18505, but had fallen foul of the
opposition of respectable citizens to the notion of women displaying
themselves. Such objections were eventually circumvented with the help
of the technology (the half-tone plate) which from the late i88os per-
mitted the reproduction of photographs in newspapers and periodicals.
The first properly organised beauty competition (conducted on the basis
of photographs) was set up by another great entrepreneur of the circus,
Adam Forepaugh, in 1888: 11,000 women submitted photographs for a
prize of $10,000 and a starring role in one of Forepaugh's productions;
the winner was an actress, Louise Montagne.39 In working-class areas it
was possible to ignore the shibboleths of conventional respectability and
hold parades of beautiful women in cdime museums'. Lois Banner
claims that such 'beauty contests were significant means of transmitting
to immigrant men and women American standards of physical appear-
ance'.40 More likely, they were significant means of turning the universal
appeal of female beauty into fast dimes for the owners of the museums.
Above all, beauty competitions, and the display of photographs in the
press, made personal beauty a matter of consuming interest to the
masses.
According to Banner, when in 1882 English actress Lillie Langtry
(then in her late twenties) first toured the United States, 'many Ameri-
cans did not find her attractive', since she was 'athletic' and 'English' in
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 135

appearance, rather than rounded and Voluptuous'.41 Apparently there

were reservations too about her strongly marked mouth and nose,
though opinion on the latter seems to have been, as one might expect,
somewhat confused. Banner's argument is that eventually there was a
swing in favour of Lillie's type of looks.42 Whether the arguments were
those of high fashion, or simply of crude jingoism - a Chicago news-
paper declared that Lillie 'could not compare with scores of American
ladies in every city where she is on exhibition'43 - the critical fact is the
emergence of beauty as a topic for popular discussion (and no one
pretended that the discussion was about beauty as truth or godliness).
Whether American perceptions of Lillie really did change is not terri-
bly important. What is important is the strategy by which Lillie Langtry
had, well before coming to the United States, established herself in Eng-
land as a renowned beauty. With Langtry it was not a matter of having
had any kind of success on the stage; quite simply, from a very early
age, she set out in a most single-minded way to exploit her personal
appearance, which, as a plentiful choice of paintings and photographs
demonstrate, was so devastating as to make any discussion of conven-
tions of beauty practically irrelevant. Born Emilie Charlotte Le Breton,
she came from a well-connected family in Jersey, where her father was
an Anglican rector. In order to reach the fringes of London society, her
major target, she made a reasonably good marriage to an undistin-
guished member of the gentry class. In London artists were keen to paint
her, and she saw clearly the advantage of encouraging them. Jersey Lily
by Millais became one of the most famous ever renderings of female
beauty; a lesser artist, Frank Miles, did sketches of her which were both
sold as originals and (critical development) reproduced as postcards.44
Lillie could not afford to dress other than plainly, but she made an
impact at all the social occasions she attended, displaying boldness and
independence of spirit (her husband was a man without grace or style)
which attracted still further attention. Lillie sought no other career than
to promote herself as a society beauty, and as such she came to the atten-
tion of the Prince of Wales. Their first assignation was arranged by an
intermediary, much practised in such matters; it took place in 1877 when
Lillie was twenty-three, the Prince of Wales thirty-six. Public recognition
(by word of mouth in high society, more widely through the scandal
sheets) as a mistress of the Prince of Wales brought to a climax the career
136 IT

of Lillie Langtry as a professional beauty, whose likeness circulated in

Britain, across the Atlantic and even the Channel.
Unlike the mistresses of Charles II, Lillie gained no direct material
reward from her liaison with royalty. With or without the embraces of
'Bertie', she was an acknowledged beauty, that beauty underwritten by
Sir John Everett Millais, James McNeil Whistler and Oscar Wilde; but
the royal connection was a final seal of approval which accelerated still
further the circulation of reproductions and postcards. Lillie preferred
the dashing young Prince Louis of Battenberg, and became pregnant
by him. Not unexpectedly, she was discarded by the Prince of Wales.
Needing to find a more active means of cashing in on her assets, she
now (and only now) took to the stage. As a beauty and a celebrity, she
was able to do reasonably well in her new career. But the important
extrapolation is the sequence of events: status as a beauty first, career as
an actress subsequently.
As a publicly recognised beauty in the United Kingdom in the seven-
ties and eighties, Lillie Langtry had only two rivals, the very English
Ellen Terry and the notably French Sarah Bernhardt. Compared with
Lillie, Ellen Terry was a different kind of beauty and from a different
social background.45 Indeed, for a considerable time her career seemed
to demonstrate the hazards, rather than the advantages, of beauty. That
she ultimately became a celebrity owed most to her acting talent and her
determination to rebuild her own life and find a means of supporting
her children; but, inevitably, it depended also on her beauty. Ellen Terry
came from an acting family; her direct physical appeal shines out from
the famous painting of her, aged sixteen, by G. F. Watts (Secrets, 1864).
In that very year she was married to the ageing artist. Watts's claim,
rather like that of some of the Pre-Raphaelite painters around the same
time, was that he wished to educate and elevate his young model. He
may possibly have been impotent: anyway, life with him was grim and
gloomy, and Ellen shortly fled to live in poverty with an architect, by
whom she had two children. Although, before her marriage, she had
shown outstanding talent on the stage, she had cheerfully put all the-
atrical ambitions behind her. Desperate to find a means of supporting
herself and her children, she returned to the stage and was fortunate to
the extent that the greatest male actor and theatrical figure of the day
had not yet found an ideal leading lady.
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 137

John Henry Brodribb, nine years older than Ellen Terry, was born in
1838 into a poor Cornish family; he did, however, inherit £100 from an
uncle. He was not particularly good looking, was, as an adolescent,
called 'spindle-shanks', and he had a stutter; nevertheless he was deter-
mined to become an actor, and the £100 helped.46 Under his stage name
of Henry Irving he was already enjoying considerable success when
Terry teamed up with him. His appearance did seem to improve slightly
as he matured and Ellen herself recorded later, 'I doted on his looks'. As
a highly popular actress, Terry, in common with other actresses, had her
likeness featured on the postcards of the 18705 and onwards.
Sarah Bernhardt (born Henriette Rosine Bernard) did not conform at
all to the convention of the voluptuous woman. She was thin, with a
profoundly appealing, dark, Jewish beauty, including the faintest suspi-
cion of a too long (though highly enticing) nose. Fortunately her looks
at the time of her debut at the Comedie Fran^aise in 1862, when she was
eighteen, were recorded by the great pioneer photographer Felix Nadar.
In career terms, and in exploitation of her sexuality, Bernhardt was
nearer to Langtry than Terry, and nearest of all to the courtesans dis-
cussed earlier. Although both she and her mother (a Dutch Jew) were
illegitimate, they lived in fairly comfortable circumstances, since her
father settled money on her, and their circle included such luminaries
as Alexandre Dumas pere, the composer Rossini and the Due de Morny.
She got an early start at the Comedie Fran^aise, but had to leave after
insulting the leading lady there. For a time she lived quite openly, and
apparently happily, as a kept woman; she had a son, probably by the
Prince de Ligne, though later she was reported as saying, with deliber-
ately mischievous humour, that she could never remember whether the
father was Victor Hugo, Gambetta, or General Boulanger.47
She resumed her acting career at the Odeon in 1866. While there can
be no gainsaying her supreme talent in voice, expression and sheer dar-
ing and originality, it is true that, uniquely in Paris, the Odeon, the
left-bank theatre of the radical young, provided the right ambience for
Bernhardt's particular abilities. A true actress, and not simply a star, she
took an enormous range of parts including several that called for con-
cealment, not projection, of her looks. By 1869 she was being lauded as
a great, if not the greatest, actress of the day. Her personal bravery, a
notable characteristic to the very end of her long life, showed itself in
138 IT

her refusal to leave Paris during the events of 1870 (Franco-Prussian war,
Prussian siege, and the Commune). In 1872 she returned to the Comedie
Fran^aise. But she was not a woman to be fitted into any compartment,
however elevated, and in 1880 (at the age of thirty-six) she again broke
with France's premier theatre and set out on a series of foreign tours
which established the basis of her international (and British) reputation
- as both actress and beauty. A grandmother in 1889, she now had the
statuesque looks which are familiar from the photographs of her in var-
ious dramatic roles, taken by Nadar's less gifted son, Paul; yet the air of
youthful appeal was remarkably well preserved. From 1893 she directed
her own company at La Renaissance and in 1899 the Theatre Sarah Bern-
hardt was established at Chatelet. Along the way she had contracted one
not very successful marriage, and had had many lovers. As well as
directing, and playing an incredible range of parts (including male
ones), she channelled her formidable creative energies into painting and
sculpture. All that, and beauty too! Given such talents, would she not
have made her mark in the world without great beauty? In some
spheres, possibly; though had she been plain she could not have suc-
ceeded on the stage. But for the life of Sarah Bernhardt as it actually
unfolded, as with the other real lives we have studied, personal beauty
was crucial at a number of precisely identifiable stages. Without it she
would not have got started at all in 1862. It enabled her to live comfort-
ably as a kept woman when ejected from the Comedie Fran<;aise, and
while subsequently establishing herself at the Odeon (these periods did
not last long enough, nor was she prominent enough in them, nor suffi-
ciently closely linked with famous male names, for her usually to be
numbered among the grand horizontals, and, anyway, all else was oblit-
erated by her sublime ascendancy in the theatre). Her beauty was vital
in getting her a fresh start at the Odeon. Along with her dramatic tal-
ents it was instrumental in winning the acclaim and devotion which
swept her back to the Comedie Fran^aise and on to international fame.
And, finally, her acknowledged position as a great international beauty
(as well as actress) in the last decades of the century depended on the
remarkable, unfading quality of her striking looks.
In 1896 the director of L 'Illustration in Paris put on a form of beauty
competition. Like those already being organised in the United States, it
depended on photographs of the competitors, but unlike them it was
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 139

not open to the general public, being confined to actresses. Sarah Bern-
hardt, her great theatrical rival Rejane, and even Otero, were only
runners-up. The winner (not really surprisingly) was someone much
younger, Cleo de Merode, still in her teens - there is, ultimately, no
denying the devastating additional bonus of youthful beauty.48 The
major consideration here, however, is that the French competition con-
stituted a further milestone in the march of female beauty out of the
boudoir, and the world of the personal and purely sexual transaction,
into the wide public world where it is gawped at, and paid for, not by
princes and bankers but by the masses. And for this particular epoch I
shall not overstate the value of youthfulness. Women who had estab-
lished themselves many years before (Bernhardt, Russell, Terry)
maintained their appeal, their following - and the value of their personal
appearance. In 1897, for example, a photograph of Ellen Terry in one
of her last great roles, as the laundress Madame Sans-Gene in Sardou's
play of that title, was used as an advertisement for the washing additive
'Nixey's Blue'. A famous beautiful face, in a relevant context, was a
great advertising coup', but advertisers were now appreciating the value
of associating even an unknown face with their products - provided, of
course, it was a beautiful face.
The lines dividing horizontales ((moyennes\ and 'petites\ as it were, as
well as grandes), mistresses, prostitutes and artists' models (we noted the
example of Apollonie Sabatier) were constantly fluctuating and seldom
rigid. However, a new, entirely respectable calling did begin to emerge,
that of mannequin. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the more
beautiful salesgirls (often recruited in the first instance, as we have seen,
for their looks) began to take on the extra roles of showing off shawls,
mantles and cloaks to customers. Englishman Charles Worth (born
1825), the epitome of the gorgeous salesman of ladies' fashions, easily
gained employment at the Paris shop of Gagelin et Opigez at 93 rue de
Richelieu. Within months he had married a fellow salesgirl, Marie Ver-
net, also gorgeous (photographs exist of both). Soon he was designing
clothes for her to model, so that we may call her the first fully profes-
sional mannequin in history. Shortly Worth began the special
recruitment of attractive young women, several of them English. The
first photographs of mannequins did not appear till 1910 - though they
certainly helped to sell clothes, they remained anonymous. In the first
140 IT

half of the twentieth century the role of mannequin in the fashion mag-
azines was taken on by aristocratic celebrities and distinguished
actresses; the model as we know her today was a product of the Cultural
Revolution of the Long Sixties, the subject of Chapter 9.
The artists' models many of us (think we) know best are those 'lus-
cious ladies' appearing in the Pre-Raphaelite paintings of the second half
of the nineteenth century, particularly those of Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
Taking the position that 'the concept of female beauty is entirely a social
construct', Jan Marsh, in her brilliant Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood (1985),
maintained that two of the models, Lizzie Siddall and Jane Burden were,
in reality, plain, while Alexa Wilding (whose stunning beauty, like that
of Fanny Cornforth, Emma Hill, Annie Miller and Georgie Macdonald,
simply cannot be gainsayed) is dismissed as having 'an expressionless
face'.49 Lizzie was thin and red-haired and so violated two of the sillier
Victorian regulations for beauty; some contemporaries criticised her
looks, some praised them; using, in particular, her own self-portrait of
c. 1853-54 and two drawings of her by Rossetti (1854 and 1855), I con-
clude that she was highly personable (and certainly not plain).
Photographs of Jane Burden show her as having a strong nose and chin
- some might describe her as 'masculine', others as 'sexy', as of course
she certainly appears, for example, in La Belle Iseult by William Morris,
or La Pia de Tolemei by Rossetti; plain she, too, quite definitely wasn't.50
The original Pre-Raphaelites went out deliberately looking for what they
referred to as 'stunners'; there can be no doubt that the women they
chose as models were chosen for their looks - plain women simply
would not have been considered. All came from the rural or urban
working class, save for Georgie Macdonald, who was the daughter of a
Methodist minister. Initially both Jane Burden and Alexa Wilding failed
to show up for their first sittings: posing was not fully respectable and
carried the danger of sexual impropriety. The reward was a somewhat
erratic one shilling an hour. Alexa (real name, Alice) preserved her hon-
our, and secured a regular retainer of 30 shillings a week as Rossetti's
most painted model. The others all definitely advanced in social status:
Emma Hill married Ford Madox Brown; Jane Burden married William
Morris, later becoming Rossetti's mistress; Georgie Macdonald married
Edward Burne-Jones; Lizzie Siddall married Rossetti; Fanny Cornforth
made a good marriage outside the artistic circle, then later became yet
 GRANDES HORIZONTALES 141

another of the lovely Rossetti's mistresses - her social promotion was

actually the greatest of all since, alone of the models, she (born an
impoverished country girl) had been a prostitute before joining the cir-
cle. But, as with so many of the women in this book, the notion of
'success' has to be very carefully considered: Lizzie Siddall (who, when
discovered, had been working in a milliner's shop), being increasingly
neglected by the ever-priapic Rossetti, took to drugs and died in her
early thirties.
As a beauty, Fanny Cornforth had actually made a good living as a
prostitute, as was by no means impossible. That indefatigable observer
of Victorian womenkind, A. J. Munby recorded in his diary:
Saturday, 30 July ... Going to the Opera, I met in the Strand one Sarah
Tanner, who in 1854 or 5 was a maid of all work to a tradesman in Oxford
Street: a lively honest rosyfaced girl, virtuous & self possessed. A year or
so after, I met her in Regent St. arrayed in gorgeous apparel. How is this?
said I. Why she had got tired of service, wanted to see life and be inde-
pendent; & so she had become a prostitute, of her own accord & without
being seduced. She saw no harm in it: enjoyed it very much, thought it
might raise her & perhaps be profitable .. .51
It was, and three years later Sarah was able to set herself up as the pro-
prietor of a coffee house. Journalist Henry Mayhew found a beautiful
twenty-seven-year-old prostitute earning anything from four to ten
pounds a week, when an artisan would be earning only two.52 William
Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, lamented that cthere is no indus-
trial career in which for a short time a beautiful girl can make so much
money with so little trouble as the profession of courtesan'.53 B. Pierce
Egan's Life in London^ published at the end of the i86os, makes it clear
that in the higher-class brothels the women did rather well, but they had
to be beautiful.54
We are back with the oldest profession and the most basic transmu-
tation of beauty into cash. But we have also seen hints of, as I put it, the
march of female beauty out of the boudoir and into the public world,
to be admired (and paid for) by the masses. During the twentieth cen-
tury the way in which the beauty of actual people (famous or unknown)
was publicised and, in diverse ways, turned in for a cash price, was to
have a profound effect on the general evaluation of beauty. Human
beings would continue to want to believe in beauty as connoting moral
142 IT

excellence; but the evidence was multiplying that it possessed an entirely

independent value (separate, that is, from other personal qualities). That
evidence, certainly, related almost exclusively to women; but already by
1900 the first movie cameras were rolling - commercial fiction film
would bring the evaluation of male beauty also into the centre of con-
tention. The large, but logical, stride from La Belle Epoque to the era of
film was personified by the fascinating Lina Cavalieri. At the age of
thirty-nine she entered the world of American movies, playing opposite
her husband Lucien Muratore in Manon Lescaut (1914). She returned to
make films in France and Italy; but La Rose de Grenade (1919) was no
great success and really marked the end of this brief autumnal career.55
Cavalieri had done well in her day, but for this lovely horizontale the
cinematograph had arrived just too late.
 7

The Tallest Wins

Up at least till the end of the First World War, national politics in the
major western countries was a masculine occupation: women did not
stand for election, nor did they vote. Many plain and gross men attained
high office. Even where wide electorates existed (and this is still true
today), there was no such thing as the untrammelled choice of the peo-
ple. To be put before the electorate a person has to have been the choice
of a tiny cell, the ruling oligarchy, the party bosses or, at the very least,
a local committee. In some cases, and this is the main point relevant to
our study, consideration might be given to any personal qualities pos-
sessed by a prospective candidate which have special appeal for the
electorate. Presidents (in the United States), and the Emperor Napoleon
III (in France) were intended as replacements (representing the will of
the people) for the monarchs of the past. As with former kings, appear-
ance, once the presidential office or the imperial crown was attained,
would be commented on, and a good appearance could be useful in
maintaining support - this was also true of certain British Prime Min-
isters. Beauty is not a totally negligible factor - and there are some
intriguing aspects to be noted - but it only becomes a substantive topic
with the arrival of complete universal suffrage electorates and, more
crucially, television.
The one successful political leader who stands out in eighteenth-
century Britain as having something in the way of a genuine popular
following is William Pitt the Elder, subsequently the Earl of Chatham,
known to contemporaries as 'The Great Commoner', and described a
century later by the Dictionary of National Biography as 'pre-eminently
the most striking figure on the English political stage during the eight-
eenth century'. All DNB biographies of leading political figures, drawing
upon contemporary testimony and portraits, conclude with a formal
section on the subject's personal appearance. With Pitt the Elder, the
144 IT

first emphasis is placed on his voice, the biographer quoting from But-
ler's Reminiscences of 1824: 'his voice was both full and clear, his lowest
whisper was distinctly heard; his middle tones were sweet, rich, and
beautifully varied; when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the
house was completely filled with the volume of sound'. As the evidence
consistently indicates, a good voice and an imposing presence were the
most important personal qualities for a politician, and for some time to
come far outweighed considerations of mere beauty. The same biogra-
pher tells us that 'Chatham's figure was tall and imposing, with the eyes
of a hawk, a little head, a thin face, and a long aquiline nose. He was
scrupulously exact in his dress ...' We also learn that 'his vanity was
excessive, and he delighted in pomp and ostentation'.1
Pitt, then, was personable, tall (this, as my chapter title hints, does
emerge as a specially noteworthy personal attribute for politicians), but
far from good-looking. One of the other great popular figures of the
eighteenth century, John Wilkes - a Radical where Chatham was a
super-patriotic Tory - was quite definitely ugly. Sir Joshua Reynolds put
it thus: 'his forehead low and short, his nose shorter and lower, his
upper lip long and projecting, his eyes sunken and horribly squinting'.2
The cartoon by Hogarth is one of the best known in eighteenth-century
political caricature. Of it, Wilkes himself said: 'It must be allowed to be
an excellent caricature of what nature has already caricatured'.3 Alexan-
der Carlyle, in his Autobiography, spoke of Wilkes's 'ugly countenance',
but added that he was 'a sprightly and entertaining fellow'.4 Wilkes did
in fact take pains, through walking and riding, to preserve his good
figure. He was dynamic, eloquent and, though direct in expressing his
sexual interest in the women he desired, impeccable in manners. As a
great and courageous campaigner against Lord North and George III, he
attracted attention and won much favour. Politically he was successful,
winning one of his most important battles against the government when
the judiciary declared general warrants (by which 'all the usual suspects'
could be scooped up without details being specified) illegal; he was also
extremely successful with women, it being said that his other qualities
very quickly obliterated his misbegotten face.
Let us never fall into the error of thinking that looks in men were not
noticed. The very sobriquet of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, leader of
the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745, should alert us against that. Looks gave
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 145

him something of the popularity which attended upon Monmouth, but

whereas Monmouth's looks may actually have affected events, birth and
cause would undoubtedly have made 'Bonnie Prince Charlie' an active
and plausible claimant to the throne even if he had been born a hunch-
back. Just exactly how good-looking the Prince really was is, as so often,
a matter on which the sources are not entirely clear. As Donald Nicholas
showed in his classic study, The Portraits of Bonnie Prince Charlie (1973),
many of the best-known representations are incompetent copies of
copies, and many that are reproduced show him as a boy rather than a
young adult. It was Nicholas's considered judgement that 'except per-
haps for the portrait of him by La Tour, the Prince could not be called
handsome'. For myself, I am prepared to back the accuracy and talent
of Maurice Quentin de la Tour, as demonstrated in the pastel exhibited
in the Paris Salon of 1747, and find Charlie indeed bonnie. For a few
months, after his victory over General Cope at the Battle of Prestonpans,
Charles lorded it in Edinburgh as the heroic cynosure. Looks, I am sure,
were very much part of the overall image, though they were really rather
wasted since the Prince, poor fellow, had no taste for beautiful women,
even though they threw themselves at him.5
In seeking elements of a modern appraisal of beauty, let us turn to
what was in most repects the most open and democratic of western soci-
eties, the United States of America, surveying the twenty-five men who
attained presidential office prior to the First World War (excluding Jeff-
erson Davis, who headed the secessionist Confederacy while Abraham
Lincoln was President of the Union). There are portraits of some sort
for all of the Presidents, and, naturally, vast amounts of biographical
information. The Dictionary of American Biography (1928- ) for the
entire period, and Appletons Cyclopaedia of American Biography
(1888-89), for most of it, like the Dictionary of National Biography,
always comment if the subjects are felt to be particularly good-looking,
or, alternatively, distinctly ill-favoured, and Appletons Cyclopaedia, in
addition, carries engravings. Particularly lavishly illustrated are Pictorial
History of American Presidents (1958), by John and Alice Durant, and To
the Best of My Ability': The American Presidents (2000), edited by James
M. McPherson. Herbert Agar, in his The American Presidents from
Washington to Harding (1935), has a usefully old-fashioned determina-
tion to characterise the personal appearance of each President (save on
146 IT

the few occasions when words fail him!) You the reader may recall the
1546 Venetian report on King Francis I of France: 'His appearance is
completely royal, so that, without ever having seen his face or his por-
trait, on seeing him one would say instantly: it's the King'. The
equivalent comment in presidential biographies, particularly popular
ones, is: 'He looked like a President'. Alas, as is faithfully recorded, a
large number of the twenty-five (apart from any other deficiencies) did
not. The popular aphorism, £The tallest wins', seems to have originated
at the time of Abraham Lincoln, but it did not come into wide currency
until well into the twentieth century, and achieved prominence with the
disastrous candidature of Michael Dukakis, who was not only short, but
rather odd-looking; yet fully eleven of the first twenty-five Presidents
were ctall', 'large' or 'over six feet', the apparent relevance of height
being driven home by the many references to others as 'short and
pudgy', 'stocky', 'small in stature' or 'stumpy'. I have noted how female
writers discussing the appearance of female celebrities tend to fall back
on such cliches as 'unconventional beauty' and 'indefinable sex appeal'.
Male writers describing male Presidents have their own cliches: 'his
appearance was in keeping with his nature', or 'mirrored his character',
or some such phrase, more appropriate to a gothic novel than to
rigorous historical analysis.
The American political system evolved very rapidly. All white males
had the vote, but, in presidential elections they, at best (five states out
of sixteen in 1800), voted for 'electors' whose responsibility it was to
elect the President and, in the early days, Vice-President - whoever was
second choice; in the other states a smaller body, usually the state legis-
lature, chose the 'electors'. The country grew, popular participation
increased, parties (with their party conventions) formed and re-formed.
The first presidential election was won by (a reluctant) George Wash-
ington, beating John Adams into a poor second place (and thus the
vice-presidency). Together these two enemies served two terms, then,
with Washington retiring, Adams secured election to the presidency. It
is a commonplace of American history that Adams was miserably con-
scious of the contrast in his appearance with that of Washington, who
was a commanding figure, six foot two inches tall, lean, muscular, and
with a square massive jaw and strong hands. His features were large, his
lips usually firmly closed, giving his face a stern expression.6 In fact he
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 147

had false teeth, as American historian Robert Darnton delights in telling

us, but then, as Darnton also keeps insisting, eighteenth-century people
were obsessed with their dental problems.7 He bore some of the marks
from the smallpox he had caught at the age of nineteen, but not too dis-
tressingly in an age when few had perfect complexions. If not beautiful,
Washington was highly impressive in figure and countenance. His
accession, manifestly, depended on achievement, as vanquisher of the
British and founding father of the Republic, but, as with a European
king, it was a valuable bonus that he looked the part. Such was not
the case with Adams (known to senators as cHis Rotundity'),8 whose
self-consciousness about his own appearance was further embittered
when at his inauguration he was completely eclipsed by the retiring
Washington.
The contrast in personal appearance between the two men added to the
cruel effect of inauguration upon Adams's mind. Washington was tall and
lean, Adams short and pudgy; Washington was dignified, Adams
pompous; Washington looked like a great man, Adams like a fussy short-
tempered professor. As we know from his embarrassingly self-critical
diary, Adams had ever since boyhood been awkwardly self-conscious
about his appearance ... the public ignored him in favour of his more
handsome and more famous rival .. .9
Let me first single out the presidents who, indisputably, were tall.
Thomas Jefferson (1801—09) was, however, 'loose-jointed, and ungrace-
ful', giving an instant impression of 'awkwardness',10 and definitely 'not
prepossessing in appearance'.11 James Monroe (1817-25) was 'a little
ungainly', being 'inclined to stoop', this general appearance, apparently,
'mirroring' his 'unsensational competence'.12 Andrew Jackson (1829-37)
was 'a tall, lank, uncouth-looking personage' according to fellow politi-
cian Alfred Gallatin,13 with 'a long stern face and lantern jaw', 'deep-set
wild blue eyes', chigh cheek-bones and a strong mouth', 'the whole face
crowned by a great shock of intractable hair', an appearance, Agar
assures us, 'in keeping with his nature'.14 William Harrison (1841; he
died in office before the year was up) who 'made an impressive figure
in the saddle', being 'tall, slim and erect'.15 John Tyler (1841-45), apart
from being 'tall and thin' was unremarkable.16 Millard Fillmore
(1850-53), however, was 'impressively handsome', as well as being 'erect
of carriage' and 'always faultlessly groomed',17 qualities which rendered
148 IT

him 'a good type for the public platform'.18 James Buchanan (1857-61)
was 'stately', 'his outward casing' being 'most impressive',19 but with
funny eyes, one near-sighted, one far-sighted. Chester Arthur (1881-85)
was 'courtly' with an 'air of breeding and intelligence', and 'looked', in
the lapidary words of the Durants, 'like a President'.20 Finally, William
Howard Taft (1909-13), identified by the Durants as 'our largest presi-
dent',21 six foot two inches tall, weighing over three hundred pounds,
who was in fact gross and unprepossessing, his consuming passion glut-
tony. (Byron, early in the previous century, had sought strenuously to
control his tendency to plumpness. Towards the end of the twentieth
century, New Zealand's overweight prime minister David Lange under-
went a dangerous stomach bypass operation in order to reduce himself
to a more acceptable shape; most nineteenth-century politicians were
not greatly troubled by such considerations.)
Among the Presidents who were not tall, James Madison (1809-17)
incidentally draws our attention to the question of the personal looks of
a politician's wife (and, perhaps, other womenfolk). Actually, it is only
with the gathering twentieth-century preoccupation with beauty that
the appearance of the wife (and potential consort) becomes a matter for
overt discussion, just, ironically, as women were starting on political
careers of their own. Literary essayist Washington Irving set down his
impressions of the Madison entourage:
Mrs Madison is a fine, portly, buxom dame, who has a smile and a pleas-
ant word for everybody. Her sisters, Mrs Coutts and Mrs Washington, are
like the two Merry Wives of Windsor; but as to Jemmy Madison - Ah!
Poor Jemmy! - he is a withered little apple-John.22

Madison was supremely impressive in print, but, it has been widely

accepted, not at all so in person. As for John Quincy Adams (1825-29),
his 'personal characteristics' were not 'ingratiating'; he was short and
stocky and by the time he became President he was suffering from an
unfortunate male affliction, which, as the recent experiences in Britain
of William Hague and Iain Duncan Smith have suggested, generally
does a public figure no great favours: 'his very large head was almost
completely bald'.23 On the other hand, Martin Van Buren (1837-41), the
'little magician' (also known as 'the careful Dutchman from New York')
did have a certain charisma to go with his 'long curly yellow hair' and
9. Sarah Bernhardt. Most portraits show Bernhardt in statuesque middle age,
but when she exploited her beauty to launch her stage career she was certainly
enticingly slim with delicious Jewish features. Photograph, Felix Nadar, 1862.
io. Ellen Terry (1847-1928). Famous as an actress and beauty, she was one of
the first to appear on picture postcards, then in advertisements for washing
products. Painted on strawboard by her elderly husband, George Frederic
Watts, c. 1864. (National Portrait Gallery)
ii. La Belle Otero. Coming from many nations and all classes, grandes hori-
zontales exemplified all types of beauty. Looking the Spanish gypsy she was,
Caroline Otero (birth date unknown) used stage dancing as her launch-pad,
danced in America in 1890, and in 1896 took part in France's first beauty
competition, organised by a popular illustrated magazine. Photograph, c. 1890.
12. Franklin Pearce is universally reputed the most beautiful of American
Presidents, at least until Kennedy, Reagan and Clinton. He owed his job almost
entirely to looks, charm and family connections. Engraving, c. 1840.
13. Abraham Lincoln was variously described as 'striking' and 'ugly', but he was
6 foot 4 inches tall, whereas his principal pro-Union opponent, Stephen Douglas,
was precisely one foot shorter. Photograph by Alexander Heller, 1860.
14. Rudolph Valentino. Film, according to a French movie guide of 1921,
imposed 'a general and absolute rule that heroes must be beautiful'. Rudolfo
Guglielmi, born in 1895 in Italy, beginning as a male taxi-dancer and gigolo in
New York, before (and after!) his early death from appendicitis became the
greatest heart-throb ever. Publicity photograph, c. 1923.
15. Mary Pickford. Born Gladys Smith in Toronto, she was the diametric oppo-
site of Garbo in being able to look much younger than she really was. Appealing
to millions through the magic of film, she could make millions without even
having to contemplate selling sex in the way concubines and courtesans had
had to do. Studio photo for advertising purposes, c. 1920.
 ® P^JtnLj^ Mg^J^X1 J^gg;j^..^ B1*2**KH0.l'..?.l

DAM-HATTAR
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Mod. -CLARY* Mod iETHEL»

Damhatt av filt i Damhatt av sammet
beige, marin, svart, i cerise, Ijusbiatt.
brunt, fraisc cL rod? mdrkblatt, brunt,
brunt Kr. '3^— mullvad. lilas cller
beige Kr. 2«"i.~-

Mod. -JANE*
Damhatt av
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marin, brunt el.
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Mod. ;HELNY. Mod. .SOLN-EIG.

Damhatt av fiit i beige, muilvad, brunt, Damhatt av filt i brunt, svart, gront
ncgcr. jade, vinrott el marin Kr. i>s.- marin el. muilvad Kr.' :i:».-^

16. Greta Garbo, modelling hats for a Stockholm department store catalogue,
1920. Born Greta Gustafson in 1905 to a Stockholm street sweeper, she would
never have escaped to films, via being a shop assistant and part-time model,
had it not been for her striking, and strangely mature, beauty.
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 149

large blue eyes'.24 'His appearance', we are assured by the always pre-
dictable Agar, 'mirrored his character' - Van Buren was a shrewd
political schemer but no statesman. James Polk (1845-49) was 'stiff and
angular' with ca face lean of outline and almost morose in expression'.25
Zachary Taylor (1849-50; he died in office) was short and fat.26 At five
foot nine inches, Andrew Johnson (1865-69) was 'solidly built'.27 Many
of those who made it to the presidency had service as soldiers behind
them (there were wars against the British - twice; the Indians - most of
the time; the Mexicans; the Spanish and themselves). The most famous
of the soldiers, and also one of the most intriguing in respect of personal
appearance, was Ulysses S. Grant (1869-77), the victorious, and ruthless,
general in the Civil War. Described by the Durants as a 'shy, stumpy lit-
tle man' (he was five foot eight inches), he was, when young, rather
effeminate in appearance. Fellow soldiers called him 'Little Beauty' and,
in an army show in Texas, he played the part of Desdemona. He would
never allow himself to be seen in a state of total undress (quite difficult
in the army): was he perhaps embarrassed by undersized genitals?28
James Garfield, though a 'blue-eyed blond', was not a very striking one,
while Grover Cleveland (1886-89), short, fat and bull-necked, was
notably lacking in physical appeal.29 Smallest of the lot was Benjamin
Harrison (1889-93), at five foot six inches a 'bland nonentity', 'a cau-
tious, frigid, unimaginative little man'.30 Theodore Roosevelt (1901-9),
although energetic and full of infectious zeal, was a martyr to asthma
and defective vision, and not at all good-looking.
Among those I have not so far discussed are, first, America's most
famous nineteenth-century President, Abraham Lincoln (1861-65; re-
elected for another term, he was assassinated soon afterwards), and,
secondly, the one truly beautiful man (all accounts are agreed) to reach
the presidency, Franklin Pierce (1853-57). There was almost the same
sort of contrast between Lincoln, ugly, gnarled, unkempt, and Jefferson
Davis, President of the Confederacy (also 1861-65), who 'looked an aris-
tocrat' with his 'clear-cut, beautiful features',31 as there was between
John Adams and Washington, save that, at six foot four inches, Lincoln
was the tallest of all the nineteenth-century Presidents.
Lincoln's own father said of his son that his body 'looked like he
needed a carpenter's plane put to him',32 and Lincoln himself was con-
scious that his face could reasonably be termed 'ugly', though also
150 IT

'rugged' and 'striking'. Practitioners of the new art of photography

posed and lighted him in many dramatic ways, but the physical essence
of the man comes through in the relatively straightforward photo-
graphic portrait of 1860 by Alexander Heller.33 Both of the major
biographical dictionaries have much to say on Lincoln's physical
appearance. First the Cyclopaedia.
Mr Lincoln was as unusual in personal appearance as in character. His
stature was almost gigantic, six feet and four inches; he was muscular but
spare of frame, weighing about 180 pounds. His hair was strong and lux-
uriant in growth, and stood straight out from his head; it began to be
touched with gray in his last years. His eyes, grayish brown, were deeply
set, and were filled, in repose, with an expression of profound melancholy,
which easily changed to one of uproarious mirth at the provocation of a
humorous anecdote told by himself or another. His nose was long and
slightly curved, his mouth large and singularly mobile. Up to the time of
his election he was clean-shaven, but during his presidency the fine outline
of his face was marred by a thin and straggling beard.

The twentieth-century account is more extensive:

The Lincoln of the Prairies was a man of marked individuality. Standing
six feet four, with uncommon length of arms and legs, his figure loomed
in any crowd, while the rugged face bespoke a pioneer origin and early life
of toil and poverty. In a head not over large each feature was rough and
prominent. In contrast to the round full-cheeked Douglas [Lincoln's main
rival in the presidential election], Lincoln's face showed deep hollows and
heavy shadows. The craggy brow, tousled hair, drooping eyelids, melan-
choly gray eyes, large nose and chin, heavy lips, and sunken, wrinkled
cheeks produced an effect not easily forgotten. A wide variety of qualities
is revealed in his portraits, which give the impression of a character whose
depth is not really sounded - a personality in which conflicting hereditary
strains were peculiarly blended. Those who have described him from life
dwell upon the contrast between the seeming listlessness of the face in
repose and the warmth of the countenance when animated with conver-
sation or public speech. The trappings of the man intensified the effect of
crudeness. In a day of grandiose adornment Lincoln's habiliments
departed as far from the Godey fashion plate as did his mid-western
speech from the sophisticated accents of the East. The battered stove-pipe
hat stuffed with papers, the rusty ill-fitting coat, the ready-made trousers
too short for the legs, the unpolished boots, the soiled stock at the neck,
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 151

the circular cloak in winter or linen duster in summer, the bulging

umbrella and hard-used carpet-bag, gave an entirely unpremeditated effect
of oddity, the man's appearance being apparently of no more concern to
him than the food which he seemed to eat without tasting.34

Lincoln's very carelessness of dress may suggest that he felt his features
and form simply not worth the attention of good grooming. He referred
in public to his 'poor lean, lank face', and there was one story about his
appearance he particularly liked to tell - apocryphal, no doubt, but
highly revealing of his image of himself. Splitting rails one day, he
claimed, he was yelled at by a passing stranger. Looking up, Lincoln
found the stranger aiming a gun at him, declaring that he had promised
to shoot the first man he met who was uglier than himself. After scru-
tinising the stranger's face closely, Lincoln declared, 'If I am uglier than
you, then blaze away.'35
Lincoln made a socially advantageous but, from the point of view of
personal happiness, disastrous marriage. He was not successful with
women, possibly because of self-consciousness over his appearance,
and led what must be accounted an unfulfilled sex life.36 Yet a young
Southern woman is reported as saying:
His face is certainly ugly, but not repulsive; on the contrary, the good
humor, generosity and intellect beaming from it, make the eye love to
linger there until you almost find him good-looking.37

What comes through most strongly in the written testimony is the way
in which his appearance was transformed once he began speaking and
became animated. According to Horace White, editor of the Chicago
Tribune:
The dull, listless features dropped like a mask. The eyes began to sparkle,
the mouth to smile, the whole countenance was wreathed in animation,
so that a stranger would have said, 'Why, this man, so angular and somber
a moment ago, is really handsome'.

Another male contemporary declared Lincoln 'the homeliest man I ever

saw'; yet, Lincoln's face, he said, 'brightened, like a lit lantern, when ani-
mated'. In action, Lincoln had enormous appeal; he had charisma. That
apart, he was always striking. After seeing him for the first time, William
Howard Russell, correspondent of the London Times, wrote: 'it would
152 IT

not be possible for the most indifferent observer to pass him in the street
without notice'.38 Lincoln made his way 'from log cabin to White
House' by energy, dedication and considerable talent (he was a highly
respected and successful lawyer); in the electoral arena his striking
appearance and charisma were undoubtedly positive, if far from critical
assets. But he was not beautiful, nor, apparently, sexually very appeal-
ing. This is the case of an ugly man with other personal qualities,
including even physical ones (such as great height), having enormous
success in public life, though, it may be surmised, suffering a deprived
private life.
How exactly did he win the crucial presidential election of 1860? As
newspapers, pamphlets, and speeches at (often well-attended) political
meetings made clear, resentment was gathering in the Southern states
over the possibility of Federal interference in Southern property rights
(including slave-holding) with threats being made of secession from the
Union, while many leading politicians regarded total maintenance of
the Union and federal powers as non-negotiable.39 The Republicans
acted positively in selecting Lincoln, as against the rather better-known
William H. Seward. The Democrats were disastrously divided: their
leading figure, Stephen A. Douglas, like Lincoln a mid-Westerner and
strong supporter of the Union, was opposed by incumbent President,
James Buchanan, who favoured his Vice-President, John Breckenridge.
In the event Breckenridge stood as well as Douglas. The fourth candi-
date was a former Democrat, a slave-owner, John Bell, who had become
leader of the Whigs in Tennessee, and now stood as 'Constitutional
Union party' candidate. Douglas disconcerted party oligarchs by going
out on the stump, directly addressing voters in the different states (in
keeping with the original monarchical image, Presidents and would-be
Presidents were still expected to maintain a certain detachment).
Douglas was for maintaining the Union, but also for conciliating the
Southerners; in the course of his electioneering he quickly reached
the conclusion that, in the North at least, the uncompromising Lincoln
was bound to win. In the South he had the challenges of Breckenridge
and Bell to face. These are points I had to make before coming to
Douglas's physical appearance. His height was five foot four inches. He
had, his biographer Robert W. Johanssen tells us, a 'massive head, broad
shoulders, full chest and short stubby legs'. 'His eye was quick and
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 153

penetrating under a large projecting brow and thick masses of dark

brown hair, his visage stern and heavy.'40 In the photograph Johanssen
reproduces, the heavy, projecting forehead appears to squash together
the remaining features of Douglas's face. As Johanssen concludes, 'His
was an appearance not easily forgotten'. In remarking on the truth of
that statement, one must recall that by 1860 Douglas was possibly the
leading figure in American politics.41 In the direct confrontation with
Lincoln, the advantages as I've indicated were, in any case, with Lincoln,
but the contrast between the tallest and the smallest was undoubtedly a
cruel one. Douglas's setting out on his unconventional electioneering
tour provided the occasion for his enemies to circulate a satirical sheet
entitled c"Boy" Lost': cHe is about five feet nothing in height, and about
the same diameter the other way. He has a red face, short legs, and a
large belly'.42 Nevertheless, Douglas did very creditably in the popular
vote, polling well over a million and a quarter to just over a million and
three quarters for Lincoln, with Breckenridge somewhat under a million
and Bell just over half a million. However, where it counted, Douglas
was piling up votes uselessly, consistently coming behind Lincoln in the
election of presidential electors. That vote Lincoln won 173 to 12 against
Douglas, with Breckenridge and Bell (both strong in the South) on 72
and 39, respectively. 'The tallest wins' was a not unreasonable deduction.
My researches, though feminist critics have always failed to under-
stand this, are as much concerned with scrutinising the looks of men
as with, in traditional fashion, scrutinising the looks of women. In this
lengthy discussion of Abraham Lincoln I have concentrated on what
the various sources, primary and secondary, say about his looks. Clearly
no nineteenth-century woman would ever have had the sorts of com-
ments I have quoted here written about her. A question to ponder now
is whether any woman in the twenty-first century, however distin-
guished, however famous, would have such comments made about her
- while it is still quite normal for famous males to be discussed in
exactly the way Lincoln was discussed. Major conclusions to which this
book is tending are: growing equality between men and women with
respect to their roles in society and the way in which they are treated
by society; and the emergence of a situation in which, with regard to
looks men are increasingly evaluated in the way in which women have
always been evaluated. However differences do persist. We have just
154 IT

lighted on one of them - and, having studied the remarks made about
Lincoln, we should perhaps just pass on with a muttered 'Vive la
difference^
Last of the American presidents to be discussed is one we can, at least
in part, treat in the way in which women had always been treated. 'Per-
haps the handsomest president', reads the rubric under the portrait of
Franklin Pierce in McPherson's illustrated biographical dictionary.43
Tributes to his beauty are everywhere, though he was, it may be noted,
of only medium height. How did a man get to be President? The first
presidents were all Virginian patricians who, in one way or another, had
been leaders in the Revolution. What all had in common were Protes-
tant British, or (in two cases) Dutch names and origins (families long
established in America, we may note, tended to produced taller progeny
than families in the rest of the world; immigrants from southern and
eastern Europe tended to be short in stature). Soldiering, we saw, was
one road to advancement - Franklin Pierce served in the Mexican War;
the law was another. As everywhere, and in all walks of life, family con-
nections could be useful. Pierce's father had been a general in the
Revolutionary War; he then served for two terms as Governor of New
Hampshire. Franklin Pierce studied at Bowdoin College before becom-
ing a lawyer, then at the early age of twenty-eight secured election to the
New Hampshire House of Representatives where, we learn from Larry
Gara's standard work on the Pierce presidency, 'his charm and family
connections' helped him become Speaker. Positions in national politics
followed as smoothly: first, two terms in Congress, then, in 1837, elec-
tion to the Senate. 'Handsome and well-groomed', Gara continues,
Pierce 'influenced others by a pleasing habit of appearing to agree with
whomever he was conversing.'
He became a party leader with very little effort of his own. His main assets
were family background, total loyalty to the Democratic party, a willing-
ness to be a party hatchet-man, and, above all, his charm and striking
appearance. More than any of the others, he looked like a president.44

By a stroke of luck the Democratic convention was in a state of dead-

lock between other abler, more energetic, and better-known candidates,
so that Pierce emerged as the rather unexpected compromise choice.
Pierce's good looks had played an important part in getting him, just,
 THE TALLEST WINS 155

into the reckoning. They were important in these particular circum-

stances when a candidate without any strong signs of intellect or
political commitment, but with a certain bland appeal, was required;45
fittingly, his wife was as attractive as he was, and this may be an early
case where that too weighed with the party bosses. Beautiful Pierce
undoubtedly was, but he can by no means be accounted fortunate over-
all: he had to struggle against alcoholism when that condition was not
understood, and apart from his appalling failings as President, he
suffered the trauma of seeing his only son killed in a railway accident.
Beauty of face and form may be a source of appeal to a wider pub-
lic, or it may simply win over a small oligarchy or a powerful patron.
In British politics for the major part of the nineteenth century the lat-
ter was a more important consideration than the former. The most
renowned for looks among Victorian ministers was Henry John Tem-
ple, Viscount Palmerston, the dominant figure in British politics from
1850 to 1865. In the main body of the entry, the Dictionary of National
Biography speaks of the young Palmerston as having had 'the advan-
tage of a strikingly handsome face and figure', which, the writer
continues, 'afterwards procured for him the name of "Cupid" among
his intimates'.46 The basic reasons for Palmerston's success was that he
was an aristocrat, groomed for office from very early years. His way
was smoothed for him by his guardian, Lord Malmesbury, and there is
no reason to believe that this had anything to do with Palmerston's
looks or sex appeal. As an aristocrat, Palmerston was able to take his
MA 'by right of birth' (that is without the inconvenience of any kind
of examination), then, entirely through patronage and influence, was
returned to Parliament for a pocket borough; already the influence of
his guardian had secured him a post as a Lord of the Admiralty. (Amer-
ica now really does begin to seem a beacon of democracy!) Soon after,
Palmerston was appointed Secretary at War, a post in which he
remained for nineteen years. His career had got off to an early start:
he was in a post he liked; he could afford to relax and enjoy life. Dur-
ing his early years at the War Office he became a member at Almack's,
the exclusive club run by a group of aristocratic ladies who were very
particular about the men they admitted to membership; several of these
ladies were Palmerston's mistresses (how very civilised, compared
with the French demi-monde of the same era!). 'On first acquaintance,'
156 IT

commented Lord Shaftesbury, 'I could see nothing in him of the states-
man, but a good deal of the dandy.'47
Palmerston's most recent biographer describes him as: 'tall, dark and
handsome ... about five feet ten, with a fresh complexion, dark hair and
magnificent blue eyes (though lacking a few teeth from hunting acci-
dents, occasionally inclining to overweight, and with a definitely reced-
ing hairline)'. His appearance can be confirmed from his portraits,
particularly the dashing early one by Heaphy, and from the later state-
ment of the painter Benjamin Haydon that 'his nose is small, forehead
fine, and he is handsome'.48 In 1839, at the age of fifty-five, Palmerston
married one of his mistresses, now fifty-two, the Countess Cowper,
whose late husband had himself been reputed one of the handsomest
men in London. The marriage was a happy one, which did not prevent
Palmerston continuing his amorous adventures. As Victorian Britain
reached its highpoint in confidence and optimism, Palmerston's brand
of assertive patriotism endeared him to politicians and public. It is not
surprising that, in a time of fragmented party politics and shifting align-
ments, this still-handsome figure should assume supremacy. Palmerston
was born into his opportunities; his good looks simply facilitated the
nonchalance with which he let them fall into his lap. They enabled him
to lead a particularly full social and sexual life and contributed to the
relaxed attitude which moved a nineteenth-century biographer to
comment on 'the tardiness with which Lord Palmerston reached politi-
cal prominence'.49 But then, in fact, everything, including the prime
ministership, fell into place for him.
For an early nineteenth-century aristocratic insider like Palmerston,
good looks were simply a highly desirable optional extra. For Benjamin
Disraeli, son of a Jewish man of letters and accordingly something of an
outsider in the Tory party, they were rather more important. Speaking
of an early speech (1837, when Disraeli was thirty-three) in the House of
Commons, the Dictionary of National Biography refers to 'the thin, pale,
dark-complexioned young man, with long black ringlets and dandified
costume'.50 Twice further on the same page the impression made by
Disraeli's appearance is remarked upon; it was, if not beautiful, certainly
personable and, partly through dint of dress, striking. Commenting on
Disraeli's later unwillingness to take up votes for women (though he
was not unfriendly in principle to the idea), a recent authoritative
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 157

biographer has said that Disraeli himself stood most to gain by such an
extension of the franchise.51 Disraeli was certainly attractive enough, as
well as distinguished and dynamic enough in both his literary and polit-
ical careers, to marry in 1839 an extremely wealthy widow, Mrs
Windham Lewis. It was with her fortune that he was able to set himself
up as the country gentleman, quite definitely the single most crucial
stage in his career towards the prime ministership, entailing (eventually)
a helpful special relationship with Queen Victoria, and an earldom. Had
Disraeli been manifestly ugly, a John Wilkes, say, it is unlikely that his
in many ways remarkable career would have evolved as it did. But Dis-
raeli's personal charm was exerted over a relatively small circle and, for
all his sponsorship of the concept of Tory democracy, we cannot cast
him into the same category as the present-day politician anxious to cut
the best possible figure on television.
Looks were an added grace for Palmerston, an important blessing for
Disraeli; they could have been ruinous for a handsome, lower-class
would-be politician late in the century. David Lloyd George was born in
1863, the son of a schoolmaster who returned to his farming roots in north
Wales, dying while David was still very young, so that he was brought up
by his uncle, a master shoemaker. His brother described him as 'a good-
looking youth with a vivacious manner and a ready wit', and his nephew
added that che had realised early in life how attractive he was to women'.
The entry in the Dictionary of National Biography (by top civil servant
Thomas Jones) is more circumspect, stating simply, 'his charm was irre-
sistible'.52 On the matter of sheer looks, the photographic evidence is
utterly conclusive. The small north Wales town of Criccieth in which
Lloyd George grew up was dominated by nonconformist morality, and
an ambitious young man eager to make his way upwards in the world
had to observe constraints unknown to Lord Palmerston. Rebuked by
his sister for his amorous forays, the young Lloyd George recorded in his
diary (17 June 1880) his own intention to exert self-discipline:
I am rather seriously disposed to give up these dealings; this I know, that
the realisation of my prospects, my dreams, my longings for success, are
very scant indeed unless I am determined to give up what, without mis-
take, are germs of the cfast life'. Be staunch and bold and play the man.
What is life good for unless some success, some reputable notoriety be
obtained.
158 IT

But the risks of disreputable notoriety were considerable. 'Blast these

malicious gossips', is an entry of a few years later.53 To his further irri-
tation his uncle took to spying on his evening activities. Treading a
careful path, the young Lloyd George showed himself a man of distinct
promise in the solicitor's office in which he worked, while establishing
a reputation as a fiery and effective public speaker in the Liberal cause.
He paid court to Maggy Owen, the only daughter of a well-off and
rather superior family, whose members saw themselves as gentlemen
farmers rather than mere working farmers; eventually, against the initial
resistance of the family, he married her on 24 January 1888. For the time
being solid respectability was fully established. Just over two years later
David Lloyd George was elected Liberal member of parliament for the
Caernarvon Boroughs. Safely based in London (which his wife hated,
and from which she subsequently departed for long periods in Wales),
and steadily rising in political reputation, or to use his own word 'noto-
riety', he found discretion more to his taste than abstinence. In 1910
began a long relationship with Frances Stevenson, a beautiful secretary
less than half his age, whom eventually, after the death of his wife, he
married. Though at all times Lloyd George had many enemies, not a
word of this relationship was ever referred to in the press. These were
indeed the days of discretion and deference. Lloyd George had made
it to the safety of high politics, but he could easily have been sunk before
ever he got there; he now cannily steered clear of divorce, which would
also have been disastrous. Status and looks, in a man, were a devastat-
ing combination; but the latter without the former could still be an
ambivalent gift. Lloyd George's recent and justly celebrated biogra-
pher John Grigg contents himself with the verdict: 'Lloyd George was
attractive to women, and they to him. His sexual impulses were
abnormally strong ...' He concludes that the sexual 'dealings' which
Lloyd George had mentioned in his diary 'remained a distinctive,
though unimportant, feature of his life from adolescence to old age.'54
'Unimportant'? - I'm not so sure.
What of beauty and public life in France? Revolutionaries, it would
seem, do not need to be beautiful — no more so, anyway, than ordinary
run-of-the-mill politicians. Louis Blanc, the leading socialist figure of
1848, was undersized and unimpressive in appearance. For charisma we
have to turn to Louis Napoleon, elected President of the new republic
 THE T A L L E S T W I N S 159

in 1848, who declared himself Prince President in his coup d'etat of 1851
and was subsequently ratified as Emperor in a national plebiscite.
Napoleon Ill's greatest asset was carrying the name, and being a
nephew, of the great Napoleon. He was also a man of considerable per-
sonal courage, with a certain animal magnetism, and cut a dashing
figure on a horse. Beaky-faced, he was certainly far from good-looking.
The narrative which follows gives a nice insight into the relative values
of status and beauty in nineteenth-century Europe. Louis Napoleon was
desperately anxious to underpin his position and establish himself as a
true monarch by contracting a marriage alliance with one of the Euro-
pean royal families, in particular with that of the most powerful nation
of the day: his plan was to marry Queen Victoria's niece, Princess Ade-
laide. But since the British Queen scarcely concealed her view of
Napoleon as a contemptible upstart, the Emperor was forced to turn
from royalty to beauty, going against the advice of his most trusted
advisers.55 The woman who, at the age of twenty-six, became the
Empress Eugenie had been born in Granada in Spain. Tutored by her
mother, she had just enough in the way of resources and connections to
have established herself as an international beauty, at home in Parisian
high society, as well as in the company of the British aristocracy (at a
reception given by Lady Palmerston in the spring of 1849, she was
described as 'a vision of youth and beauty'),56 and among the prodi-
giously wealthy Rothschilds, through whom she had been introduced to
Louis Napoleon. She had indeed used the greatest skill and the greatest
self-discipline to ensure that her beauty (not shown off to advantage in
the well-known Winterhalter portraits, which make her look dumpy in
the regal style of Queen Victoria, but perceivable in the 1850 portrait
bust by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux) brought her the highest possible social
status.
And so we return, as is only fitting in a study of nineteenth-century
politics, to female beauty. Antonia Eraser's aphorism that queens (or
imperial consorts) were not expected to be beautiful may still have been
true - Louis Napoleon would certainly have preferred royalty to beauty
- but generally the most successful women on public display in the
spheres open to them, the courtesans and the actresses, had to be beau-
tiful. Men on public display in their sphere, politics, generally did not,
though there could be special rewards for those who were. However, as
160 IT

audiences, thanks largely to mass communications and the arrival of

something like true democracy, became wider and wider, politicians,
and their party managers, became increasingly concerned about per-
sonal appearance.
 8

Movies

In the twentieth century the rapidity of technological innovation was

dazzling, the challenges to established ideas and conventional ways of
doing things deafening. Within the first half-century two cataclysmic
total wars took place each with enormous social and cultural repercus-
sions. During the second half-century there followed the further
upheavals of 'The International Cultural Revolution of the Long Sixties,
c. 1958 to c. 1974'.l Across the entire hundred years, and on into the
twenty-first century, there were transformations in lifestyles, living stan-
dards and fashions, and, above all in the status of women, and in how
they lived their lives. Traditional attitudes to beauty were under attack
as never before, though it was not till the sixties that the modern atti-
tude began to assume ascendancy, with, of course, many people
continuing to cling to the old conventions and subterfuges. The single
most important agent of change was film, which reached its biggest
audiences worldwide in the 19408, after which it was, to a considerable
degree replaced by television. By the time it became fully organised and
capitalised in the 19205, the film industry was already the greatest single
source for the employment of beautiful people. With the movies came
a whole new literature, preserving images of the stars in a form which
could be pored over and pinned to bedroom walls. Publishing guides to
both female and male stars, a French firm, in Les Grandes Vedettes du
cinema: beaute masculine (1929), claimed, accurately, that cinema had
'overturned all the old conventions about the unimportance of male
appearance, imposing a general and absolute rule that heroes must be
beautiful'.2
The way in which old norms were being replaced by new ones is
clearly demonstrated by the revolutionary changes in fashion and in the
advice, and assistance, offered with respect to improving one's personal
162 IT

appearance. In the world of high fashion the first portentous innova-

tions were those of the radical Parisian dress designer Paul Poiret when
he made a deliberate attempt to herald the first decade of the new cen-
tury by echoing the less trammelled, more 'natural' styles of Napoleon
Bonaparte's First Empire, exactly one hundred years before, beginning
the rejection of the voluminous, trailing skirts which concealed, or exag-
gerated the contours of, the lower half of the female form. However,
the unique influence of the Great War (1914-18) is neatly encapsulated
in the twofold circumstance that it was the compulsory enlistment of
Poiret in the French army that left the way clear for 'Coco' Chanel,
with her inborn instinct for simplicity, to establish her ascendancy on
the home front - where, in any case, and in all countries, the need for
women to be dressed fittingly for the arduous war work they were
undertaking combined with difficulties in obtaining the required mate-
rials, led to shorter and simpler skirts.3 Much nonsense is talked about
the female fashions of the early twenties. Boring old farts of both sexes
may have complained about the 'boyish' look (short hair, flattened
breasts, skirts shorter than had ever been seen before), but young men,
as Robert Roberts testifies in his account of young manhood in work-
ing-class Salford, were not confused:
What undoubtedly attracted young men of the period was legs! Far from
looking male, girls, with that daring length of limbs on show, appeared not
less but more delightfully feminine than ever. Young men in dance halls,
talked 'legs' - ankles, calves, shapes.4

In the 19605, analogous old fogeys complained of boys looking like girls:
girls then were no more fooled than boys had been in the 19208. Fash-
ions do change (soon hair and skirts lengthened, breasts re-emerged),
but their effects on human perceptions and human behaviour are gen-
erally overestimated. However, the changes of the war period and
immediately after did have mighty and irreversible consequences.
Henceforth, whether thighs and knees were concealed or not, whether
breasts were flattened or uplifted, whether hair was worn short or long,
a basic concept of physical beauty, always known but always subject to
ambivalences and confusions, had been exposed in the 19205 as never
before; there would be no more cover-ups.
In pre-industrial times, 'beauty' guides, while often inflected by the
 MOVIES 163

prevailing moral tone of beauty being a snare and a delusion, generally

accepted that women (and, it was occasionally recognised, also men)
naturally wished to put the best front possible upon their appearance.
Steadily the great flood of nineteenth-century works began to accept
that the aspiration after a pleasing appearance was a perfectly respect-
able one; indeed they became quite stern in insisting that a woman had
a duty to work on improving her appearance. The sense of the superi-
ority of nineteenth-century attitudes over those of a more superstitious
age come over strongly in a substantial volume published in New York
at the very end of the century, The Woman Beautiful, by Ella Adelia
Fletcher:
It is not so very long ago that there existed a certain prejudice ... against
the endowment of physical beauty, it being looked at askance as a dan-
gerous gift. And neither girl nor woman could have devoted the thought
and time to personal care which is now thought necessary without being
charged with the heinous faults of vanity.5

Addressed to the 'thoroughbred daughter of the nineteenth century',6

Harriet Hubbard Ayers's Book (also 1899) expressed contempt for the
'old-fashioned', 'demoralizing' and 'absurd' idea that a woman should
resign herself to the decrees of Providence and take no care of her per-
sonal appearance. There is much moral exhortation: 'She must not give
herself up as hopeless, as many a plain girl does'.7 The woman 'who wil-
fully neglects her personal appearance is deserving of the severest cen-
sure';8 'the sin of dowdiness is castigated'.9 It would seem that the
Victorian work ethic applied to women as much as to any aspiring office
boy: hard work, as well as willpower, were frequently cited as essential
factors in the cause of beauty, the French sources being particularly
explicit, with one making it clear that working girls must be prepared to
rise an hour earlier each morning.10 The stern moral tone did not
entirely disappear from beauty manuals in the first sixty years of the
twentieth century, but was softened with suggestions that, in making-up
and dressing-up, a woman will be giving expression to her own person-
ality, giving pleasure to herself, and indeed will be indulging in activity
that she really rather enjoys. There is a greater emphasis than ever before
on health and naturalness, and, for the first time, though in a very dis-
creet way, a few hints point to the connections between looking good
164 IT

and arousing sexual desire. A standard French beauty guide first pub-
lished in the 19205 declared that, whatever her condition in life, a woman
'must never neglect the cultivation of her beauty'. But it continued:
It is not only to be happy in love that you must, dear readers, offer to the
sight of your fellow creatures an agreeable appearance, it is also for you
yourself, for your moral health, so that you do not become more and more
sad behind your despondent face.11
Though the preface to this book contains a token inclusion of male
readers as well as female ones, it is obvious that the work is intended
entirely for the latter. Indeed, despite the new interest in male looks
brought about largely by films, there is no suggestion anywhere that
men should ever dream of going beyond routine health and teeth care,
shaving, having regular haircuts, and taking some care over their dress,
to actual use of cosmetics. In an autobiography primarily concerned
with the achievement of business and social success, Mrs Hortense
Odium, the prospering owner of a women's fashion shop in New York,
set out what were widely seen to be the essential differences between
men and women in this respect:
While it is true that women demand comfort today in their clothes - we've
come to look upon corsets that bind our bodies ... as expressions of deca-
dence - there is an additional requirement in clothes of women. We use
them as a means of expressing our personalities and as a way of enhanc-
ing our attractiveness. Masculine attractiveness stems much less from
physical beauty than feminine. A fine and honest mind, a kind and sensi-
tive heart and spirit are the first essentials of true beauty for either man or
women, but physical beauty in a woman is much more emphasized. When
we catalogue a man's good points we are apt to comment on his physical
attributes last of all. But the first thing we usually say about a woman is
that either she is or she is not attractive looking ...
Women paint their finger nails garnet, their lips flaming red and their eye-
lids blue, green or brown, not in an attempt to simulate nature, not even
to improve upon nature, but to add a quality which is otherwise lacking.
It's a kind of extension to their physical bodies of the gaiety and pic-
turesqueness of their clothes ...
Makeup to women does not mean artificiality as it does to men.12

No sign of the influence of male movie stars in this upper-class docu-

ment, certainly; and, though open and clear-headed about the prime
 MOVIES 165

importance of physical beauty in women, Mrs Odium none the less felt
the need to include a measure of the old comforting pap about 'beauty'
of heart, mind and spirit. But there is rich unwitting testimony to the
heightened preoccupation in the 19205 with female self-presentation,
and its more ludic aspects, as compared with previous eras.
Such preoccupation called for more outside assistance than ever
before. As an American War Department Manual published during the
Second World War pointed out, 'women couldn't cut their own hair and
they soon discovered that, once cut, it required special care to look well'.
At first, as bobbed hair gained in popularity, many women went into
men's barber shops for cutting and trimming. But 'they soon wanted
additional services not offered by barbers. They turned to available
beauty shops and the increasing demand for service brought new
shops.'13 The most important service offered by the beautician at this
time was permanent waving. The first machine had appeared in 1910, but
permanent waving only became widely acceptable and popular in the
19205. The manual summed up the situation at the end of the inter-war
period, giving due weight to the importance of film:
Certainly a tremendous aid to the growth of cosmetology has been the
attention given to hair and skin care, make-up, and good grooming in
general by magazines, newspapers, and the radio. Advertisers of the many
beautifying and cleansing products also have played a big part in sending
more and more women to beauty shops. And possibly the greatest infl-
uence of all has been the motion picture, setting fashions in hair
arrangement and make-up.14
A French publication of 1930, The Beauty Industry, celebrated the
achievements made by Institutes of Beauty since the first one had been
founded in 1895. The book pointed out that the success of feminism had
increased, rather than destroyed, demand: women competing for jobs
with men had to look their best.15 The great expansion, in the late nine-
teenth century, of the advertising of beauty lotions and beauty aids
continued, almost exponentially, in the twentieth. More critically, an
increasing number of advertisements aimed at men began to appear,
advertisements for hair creams, after-shave lotions and treatments for
pimples, baldness and greying hair, suggesting that Mrs Odium's view
that men were still required only to be neat and well groomed was not
universally valid.16 With such evidence it is difficult to determine how
166 IT

far there was genuine demand - whether stimulated by a desire to emu-

late male movie stars, an ambition to cut a dash at the local palais de
danse, a belief that somewhere there was a world of sex accessible to the
beautiful and youthful looking, or fear of unemployment - and how far
skilled entrepreneurs, aware of the power of carefully conceived adver-
tising, themselves created such demand as there was. Most striking is the
evident fact that a new form of nose machine which became available in
the twenties was directed at least as much at men as at women.
C
M. Trilety's Newest Nose Shaper' was a vicious-looking metal object,
held over the nose by straps buckled round the head, and fitted with an
array of screws which could be tightened to apply pressure to the
offending width, length, bump or crookedness. A ghastly little gadget of
this sort existed, not to create a particular fashionable image, as perhaps
hair cream did, but to mitigate ugliness - 'The Successful Correction of
Ill-Shaped Noses', in the words of 'M. TriletyY advertisement.17
That the object now is to remain young, rather than to grow old
gracefully is argued in the French work Beauty for All Agesy which, while
making the case for 'how to please and remain young', remarked that
women of forty, considered past it quarter of a century previously,
now dressed like young people. Beauty for Every Woman (British) is
straightforward about the mood of the times:
The beauty which comes from discomfort is not what we seek today. No
modern girl would dream of shutting her body in corsets so tight that she
might faint at any time, whereas girls of fifty years ago would have been
horrified at the thought of using powder, rouge, and lipstick.18

Everywhere there was a new emphasis on exercise. Explicit attention was

paid to breasts, rump and thighs, and their sexual connotations: 'a
breast is beautiful if it is firm and of medium size'; £a fine leg gives ele-
gance and sets desire on fire'. clt is beauty', we are told, 'which gives so
much spice to love, for a man never forgets the delicious minutes he has
passed in the arms of a beautiful woman swooning and palpitating.'19
What the books were saying was matched by what the younger women
were wearing:
The sexual provocation of shortened skirts was further increased by wear-
ing open lace work stockings and rolled hose that often bared flesh as well
as contour. Silk stockings had become a necessity for the new-fashioned
 MOVIES 167

women and an object of gift-giving and male attention, and sheerer mod-
els were overwhelmingly favoured by the young whatever the increased
expense. Surely mere utility would not have dictated silk rather than lisle
nor made the sheerer models more desirable. An enormous variety of col-
ors, patterns, and degrees of opacity were displayed for the young
woman's market - all helped to draw attention to the leg.20

Old prejudices about beauty and sexuality persisted - there were

many denunciations of the blatant sensuality of twenties fashions. A
more solid block to the full emergence of a fully modern appraisal of
beauty was widespread poverty and deprivation, both of which hit even
the United States in the 19305. A series of articles on 'beauty' in Le Petit
Parisien, a newspaper produced of course by wealthy proprietors, but
aimed at a lower class readership, provoked this angry and bitter
response from ca woman of the people':
We, those who set out every day for the office or the workshop, we don't
have the time (or the money) to go to the institute of beauty; but the
spouse, and the children who see us return in the evening, most certainly
find in us the greatest beauty. Tell me, sir, what little child would swop his
mother for a lady with well tended cheeks, but without a smile, without
caresses (that would destroy her make-up!).
To disperse the cares which preoccupy the flighty, they would only need
other cares, those of the household, those of bringing up children; it would
be enough for them to find ways of making their husband happy, in rais-
ing in a healthy and decent fashion the children given to them by the Good
God. Sure, that gives one wrinkles, as crying in front of a cradle suddenly
empty dulls the sparkle of the eyes; these wrinkles are the wrinkles of faith-
ful grandmothers, who, when they arrive in front of the Judge, will not
notice that they are no longer beautiful.21

A universal cry, one might say, and one which was to be repeated many
times in different forms; in its very intensity it is arguing for a moral
view of beauty now beginning to fall out of favour.
Such sentiments can be set against some striking portents of things to
come. The most brash and unsubtle of these was the Miss America com-
petition, launched in Atlantic City in 1921 and based on the simple
premise of the dollar value of beauty - specifically that beautiful girls
parading in bathing costumes would pull in the tourists. Despite the best
efforts of the organisers to stress the wholesomeness of the contest and to
168 IT

play down its sexual connotations, the unambiguous significance of the

latter was strong enough for the promoters to be pressured in 1928 into
abandoning the contest - not because it was held to be degrading for
women but because it was immodest. The relative potency of the differ-
ent forces, preserving public modesty versus appearing in the vanguard
of modernity and versus making a fast buck, can be gauged from the way
in which uninterrupted presentation of the contest was resumed in 1935.
No one out of the several types of beauty was specially favoured. Shar-
ing in the widely held misapprehension that each age has its own stan-
dard of beauty, Lois Banner found it 'curious' that the second winner in
1922 'differed considerably in face and figure' from the first winner, Mar-
garet Gorman. There was nothing curious about it at all (save for those
who hold stubbornly to their theories in defiance of the evidence); we
should, however, remind ourselves that at this level any decision as to
one contestant being more beautiful than another was quite unreal; the
one true line of demarcation is that between those who can, without
manifest absurdity, enter a beauty contest and those who cannot.
Very few politicians, so far, we have already seen, could have entered
beauty competitions. We are still a long way from mass exposure before
the democratic electorate, still further from exposure within the inti-
macy of the home; in fact, for the next thirty years sound radio was
probably as potent a medium in politics as film, putting a premium on
qualities of voice rather than physical appearance. None the less, an
important hint of what a visual medium of mass communication might
achieve did appear in the very last year of the Great War when Screen
Advertising Inc. ('Your Product Shown in Miniature Photoplays to Six
Million People') began writing to congressmen with the following
proposition:
At a trifling cost to you, we will take a few hundred feet of motion pic-
tures, showing you in your Committee Room, at your desk or anywhere
else that you may select and, with appropriate titles, drive home to the
voters the excellent work which you are accomplishing. From the original
negative can be made a sufficient number of positive prints to serve the
motion picture theatres in your District. If you wish us to, we will also
arrange for the exhibition of these films. Why not count on every possible
vote in your District?22
The shape of things to come indeed! Two caveats, however: first, not a
 MOVIES 169

great deal came of this particular scheme; secondly, displaying a politi-

cian at work, making speeches, etc., does not automatically and
immediately mean a concern for their physical appearance - after all
politicians had for generations happily shown off their (often) ugly
mugs on election literature. Nevertheless, in the United States of the
inter-war years some attention to the beauty or otherwise of politicians
is discernible.
Traditional sentiments are as strong as modern ones in the account
the distinguished journalist Mark Sullivan gave of the session of Con-
gress which met to hear President Coolidge's address in December 1923,
traditional in the song of praise for the ladies, modern in the singling
out of the appearance of the politicians - dowdy:
The House galleries filled up first and remained throughout the one part
of the picture that was most pleasing to the eye during the joint session of
Congress which heard the President's message today. The galleries were
mainly filled by women who in their bearing, their choice of colors for
their dresses and the alert intelligence of their countenances seemed rather
the superiors and certainly more distinguished looking than the men of
the two chambers who filled the floor.
As you looked at the Representatives and the Senators you were con-
vinced that for such achievement as comes out of them we must rely on
the capacities inherent in average men. In clothes and countenance they
were conspicuous, so to speak, in their averageness. There was hardly an
outstanding head or face among them. As to clothes, the ordinary sack
suit was universal... To the eye it was like a meeting of the Farmers' Co-
operative Association of Des Moines, Iowa, or a session of the male
members of any small-town church.23

Woodrow Wilson, United States President at the end of the war, was
a distinguished enough, if not particularly pleasing-looking man. The
Republicans had no very brilliant figure to put up against him, nor did
they have any very positive policies on which to fight the 1920 election.
It is in such circumstances (as I suggested with regard to Franklin
Pierce) that the factor of personal physical appeal may come into play.
At any rate, Professor Edward Pessen has observed that the undoubtedly
good-looking Warren Harding gained the Republican presidential nom-
ination in part because of his looks, at a time when calm reassurance
was required rather than vigorous policy initiatives,24 going on to take
1/0 IT

the presidency in the 1920 election. Professor W. E. Leuchtenberg devel-

oped the point in words with which we have become familiar, declaring
that Harding 'had no qualification for being President except that he
looked like one'.25 Harding died in office - because, according to one
insider, he felt that as President of an avowedly prohibitionist nation, he
ought to give up alcohol himself; within a fortnight of this grave deci-
sion he was dead.26 Harding's Vice-President, and automatic successor,
Calvin Coolidge, scarcely looked like a President; indeed the epithet
'funny looking' might have been coined for him, though Sullivan made
quite an issue of the 'ingratiating appeal' of Coolidge's 'boyish features',
'blue eyes' and 'very blond head'. His appearance, Sullivan maintained,
'seems to say: "I am only a young fellow here, and I am new on this job,
and I hope you will give me a kindly hand'".27 Having slipped into the
presidency, Coolidge retained it in his successful campaign of 1924 on
the slogan 'Keeping Cool With Coolidge'. Coolidge did not stand for re-
election in 1928, the Republican mantle being inherited by the highly
energetic and, in many respects, public-spirited Herbert Hoover, who
had behind him a distinguished record as organiser of American relief
operations at the end of the Great War; there was no call for distinction
of appearance, and Hoover did not provide it.
Let us move on to Franklin D. Roosevelt's first campaign for the pres-
idency, that of 1932 against the incumbent Herbert Hoover. One undis-
puted quality possessed by Roosevelt was that of extreme good looks;
one undisputed feature of this campaign was that Roosevelt was 'on dis-
play' (in the words of the Kansas City Journal Post) as no candidate had
ever been before - he undertook a daunting cross-nation campaign
addressing vast open-air meetings.28 Roosevelt, a member of an upper-
class New York family and relative of the former President Theodore
Roosevelt, was undoubtedly one of those whose birth was blessed by that
'good fairy' of whom the beauty guides often liked to speak. Family con-
nections and good looks had given him an early start in politics: he was
Assistant Secretary of the Navy during the Great War, and Democratic
vice-presidential candidate in 1920. Then, at the age of thirty-nine, he
was struck down by polio. Ambition and courage united in a fight-back
which brought him the governership of New York. There was much
opposition to him within the Democratic party, and his eventual nomi-
nation as presidential candidate was no soft, or compromise, choice.
 MOVIES 1/1

The choice made, the question remained: was the Democratic candi-
date physically fit for office? Was he not still a hopeless cripple (to use
the brutal language of the day)? One reason for the exhausting whistle-
stop tour, 'tacit rather than expressed' as the New York Times put it, was
c
to demonstrate to the people' that Roosevelt was indeed 'a man of fine
physical stamina and rude health'.29 Comments there were on this issue
in plenty; but very, very little directly on Roosevelt's personal appear-
ance, a matter still obviously considered not to be one for open discus-
sion. Roosevelt did, in fact, dress in a manner calculated to attract
attention to his looks, and his campaign photos showed him without his
spectacles, eyes brightly shining, features highly lit to give a clean-cut
appearance, the thickening jaw subtly lightened. Journalists used a
surrogate language in referring to his looks (rather as good taste decreed
that a man compliment a woman on her hat rather than on her own
physical appearance). He was 'dapper in a dark suit and dark overcoat';
he gave 'his white dotted blue necktie a final tug'; 'his features' widened
'into a warm smile which is positively infectious'. A woman journalist
recalled that when she first saw him in 1920 'he was a handsome and
radiant figure', but in respect of the forty-eight-year-old Roosevelt of
1932 contented herself with referring to 'a physical disaster so valorously
surmounted and lightly borne that it has become almost an asset'.
Otherwise, she added, his luck has held, 'the luck of being a well-born
and comfortably circumstanced American, happily following a chosen
career'.30 In an interesting twist, highly typical of certain attitudes which
lasted till the sixties, the Democrats insisted that it was Republican
enemies who 'love to emphasize his good looks and "personal charm",
subtly suggesting that nothing lies behind it'.31 This was not wholly accu-
rate: what the Republicans paraded was Roosevelt's image as a slightly
effete aristocrat, out of touch with the ordinary American - good looks
could be used to a candidate's disadvantage.
Unquestionably Roosevelt's striking appearance did generate excite-
ment at the meetings he addressed, though, of course, beautiful
clean-cut features cannot mean much to vast audiences of thirty to fifty
thousand. A writer in World Telegram pinned down how the current
state of communications technology determined which personal quality
was really Roosevelt's winner:
Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt may not win the election, but he has
1/2 IT

already won a championship. He is the best radio broadcaster among all

recent Presidential candidates. Nor is this an unimportant title. Within
eight years political parties may hold auditions rather than conventions
[that didn't happen, but they would, eventually, hold televised conven-
tions] ... The voice of the democratic nominee falls with such a pleasant
cadence on the ear that on certain occasions the soothing sound of the
man dims any sharp criticism of the sense.32
In a vast stadium the voice was again the major asset. In Chicago,
reported that city's Sunday Tribune^ 'The stadium had been wired for
loud speakers and the Governor's deep resonant voice floated through
every nook and corner of the big green field'. For those close up, Roose-
velt's appearance did register: 'there were whispers of admiration from
those near the speakers' stand';' "He looks like an athlete," remarked an
eager woman'.33 Beauty has to be seen to be recognised; it has only to be
seen to be recognised.
Roosevelt did win the election, and he won it because, at a time when
the country was devastated by economic depression, he offered hope.
Through his formidable political talents and powerful personality he
secured three further terms of office (advancing polio ultimately con-
fined him to his wheelchair, a fact which was successfully concealed
from the public), up to his death in 1945. He acted like a President; and
he also 'looked like a President'. But no fashion was established. Roo-
sevelt was succeeded by the incumbent Vice-President Harry Truman,
whose appearance recalls Mark Sullivan's scornful description of the
1923 Congress.
There is little evidence of looks significantly affecting political choices
in early twentieth-century Britain or France. Of characteristics apart
from political talent, social background was by far the most important,
to the extent, indeed, that it really outweighed talent, except in so far as
'talent' was in any case equated with having the correct manners,
assumptions and prejudices. In the Labour Party, struggling in the 19205
to eclipse the Liberals, one way of securing a parliamentary nomination
and thus the possibility of a launch into a political career, was to have
sufficient private funds to spare impecunious constituency parties the
burden of meeting electoral expenses. It is true that Labour's leader until
1931, Ramsay MacDonald, was strikingly handsome,34 and remained so
throughout his later years. Contrary to what has often been written
 MOVIES 1/3

about him, he did distinguish himself from his colleagues by qualities of

industry, intellect and political sensitivity. He had emerged as leader
before the First World War, and really there was no viable alternative
when he was re-elected leader in 1922.35 The image he presented was a
complex one, yet it is abundantly clear that in giving him charm and
personal magnetism, good looks did play a part in the favourable impact
he made.36
Nobody, as I noted, referred openly to the good looks of President
Roosevelt. Far other was the case with Anthony Eden (1897-1977),
British Foreign Secretary at the early age of thirty-seven, and, eventually
(1955-57) Prime Minister, an upper-class figure just as Roosevelt was.
Roosevelt must be accounted one of the great successful statesmen of
the twentieth century, always decisive, perpetually in action, as even his
enemies recognised. Roosevelt looked like a handsome President, Eden
like a beautiful film star. In conventional terms his career, right to the
collapse of his Prime Ministership, seemed very successful; yet from the
start there were those who used his outstanding looks to mock him.37 It
does seem, as I've remarked from time to time, that where other con-
siderations are finely balanced, looks in a man can play a positive part.
Eden had many other advantages and attributes, but it may be that looks
helped him into his first post as Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office
during the National Government of Ramsay MacDonald, when that
post might easily have gone to the Prime Minister's son, Malcolm Mac-
Donald. That first rung led to the second one, the Foreign Secretaryship
itself. One of the themes of this book has been that women who are
beautiful handle their beauty much more intelligently that do men sim-
ilarly blessed; it also has to be recognised that, while beauty in women
pleases men, beauty in men, particularly prior to the advent of televi-
sion and the growing role of women in deciding popular choices, could
simply annoy other less well-favoured men.
Before taking further the intriguing case of Anthony Eden, let us
pause on the evidence, both verbal and photographic, as to exactly what
his appearance was, and what impression it created. He was, his rather
hostile biographer David Carlton tells us, 'the handsomest and best-
dressed politician of his era'. The very hat he wore (a Homburg) was,
from the thirties onwards, called an cEden' - you have to have the dis-
tinction of personal appearance Carlton identifies to have a hat named
1/4 IT

after you. He was constantly likened to the film star Ronald Coleman.
Let me again quote the DNB:
At thirty-eight he was the youngest foreign secretary since Lord Granville.
He was also the best looking since Palmerston. Slim, debonair, well
dressed, wearing the hat named after him, and talking with the clipped yet
languid accents of the Eton and Christ Church of his day, he might have
stepped out of a play by Noel Coward. He seemed more like a man of fash-
ion than a serious public figure.38
Two scarcely veiled insults there, two suggestions of weakness: a mati-
nee idol, a man of fashion. Later he was called after another film star
'Robert Taylor', and, with both topicality and evil intent, cMiss Eng-
land'. From his first appearance on the diplomatic stage, the Italians had
named him 'Lord Eyelashes'.39
Let there be no doubt, however, that Eden possessed many outstand-
ing qualities. During the First World War, when he was awarded the
Military Cross for rescuing his own sergeant from certain death, he
demonstrated quite exceptional personal courage. He worked hard at
the task in hand, and at the end of the war took a First in Oriental Lan-
guages at Oxford, his intention being to enter the diplomatic service. He
was a patient negotiator, though, unknown to the public, he had an
appalling temper, which some affected to associate with what they per-
ceived as his effeminate appearance. Eden resigned as Foreign Secretary
in 1938 because he opposed the appeasement of the Italian Fascist Dic-
tator Mussolini. This was a brave and principled act, whose impact was
greatly lessened by Eden's failure to keep up a consistent and forceful
opposition to appeasement, particularly, of course, that of Hitler. On
the outbreak of war in 1939 he returned to government as Foreign Sec-
retary in Chamberlain's Conservative government, continuing in that
position in the Churchill National Government formed in May 1940.
Both during the war and when Churchill came back as Conservative
Prime Minister in 1951, Eden was very much second man to Churchill.
Had Eden, his way smoothed by his looks, got ahead too quickly, only
to be kept hanging around as Churchill's sidekick? As Churchill, in the
early 19505, kept his heir-apparent waiting, a tougher, less deferential
man might have faced up to the ageing figure clinging on to office.
Churchill did not let go till 1955. At last Prime Minister, Eden performed
effectively in the general election which quickly followed, giving a
 MOVIES 1/5

consummate display of how to exploit his good looks on that new-fan-

gled device, television. But then almost immediately (1956) he plunged
into the disastrous Suez affair; perhaps trying to rekindle the image of
the man who opposed the appeasement of aggressors, and, mistakenly
perceiving Egypt's dedicated nationalist leader Colonel Nasser as
another Hitler, he colluded with France and Israel in attacking Egypt,
subsequently trying desperately to cover up this action.40
A seriously sick man, very shortly he was forced to resign, his once
charmed career now in ruins. Eden, it is often said, would have made a
good diplomat, but did not have the flexibility, the energy, the decisive-
ness to be a consistently successful politician. His looks served him well
while he was on the way up, but made him a vulnerable target when his
weaknesses began to show. He also lived up to his image as an empty
tailor's dummy by, in conversation and discussion, depending heavily
on platitudes, making him a notorious bore. He liked to be surrounded
by people (who had to work hard to conceal their boredom), but he had
no close friends. He did, in later life, marry a very beautiful woman,
twenty years younger than himself, who was devoted to him. In his
personal life, one can conclude, he did handle the gift of beauty adroitly;
but in his public life he permitted it ultimately to become more a
liability than an advantage. To attribute the folly of Suez to vanity
induced by exceptional good looks would be going to far. What one can
say is that, as with all beautiful people, Eden attracted special attention,
special and sometimes hostile scrutiny, and led, sometimes to his dis-
advantage, a life different from that of the standard dowdy politician.
The final conclusion must be that, in part due to the times in which
he lived and to the class he was born in to, Eden did not know how to
handle his good looks: instead of exuding a relaxed friendliness and
grace as Tony Blair (admittedly in a very different era) was to do, he was
aloof and stiff, confining himself to a very restricted circle.
Behind success in the higher echelons of the French civil service lay
the interlinked factors of wealth, social status and education. In the
United States the permanent government service was not nearly as
highly rated as in Europe and was expected to be, and largely was,
staffed by the relatively mediocre in talent, and often also in deport-
ment and appearance.41 In Britain, while there was recruitment from
the middle class as well as the upper class, the qualities sought, and
176 IT

certainly admired, were those of poise, breeding, manners and good

appearance (which is not necessarily the same thing as striking beauty).
The head of the British civil service throughout the inter-war years, Sir
Warren Fisher, was, however, noted also for his handsome good looks.
That supreme upper-class standard setter of the inter-war years, Sir
Francis Newbold, gave this advice in his Handbook for those making
appointments to the colonial service: the candidate's
physical appearance will, of course, have been noted at once, the cut of his
face and the extent, if any, to which he has the indefinable quality of 'pres-
ence'. Colouring, build, movement, poise will have come under review,
and even such superficialities as style of dress and hair, health of skin and
fingers.42
For the upper civil service as a whole, as the 1931 Royal Commission on
the Civil Service freely admitted, indeed boasted, great weight was
placed on the 'interview test', it being denied, utterly unconvincingly,
that this interview 'offered scope for a display of class prejudice';43 it did
obviously offer scope for the assessment of personal demeanour, if not
simply good looks. Within the British upper class and governing circles
(practically coterminous at this time),44 imbued with the ideals and
inclinations of ancient Athens, there was already a disposition towards
giving a high evaluation to male good looks. This can be seen very
clearly in the ascendancy which the gorgeous poet Rupert Brooke estab-
lished over his immediate associates at Cambridge just before the First
World War, or in a rather similar ascendancy established a little earlier
by the novelist and barrister John Galsworthy, who was:
Born among the wealthy classes, supplied from boyhood with every com-
fort and advantage, at a Public School and Oxford, intimately acquainted
with horses and dogs, an experienced traveller for sport and pleasure, a
welcome guest in Society, handsome, strong, a good athlete, married to a
lady of remarkable beauty, charm and intelligence. [My italics]45
As Ben Pimlott, biographer of Labour politician Hugh Dalton, has
recorded, on his very first day at Cambridge 'Dalton met Rupert Brooke,
and immediately fell under his spell.' Almost forty years later Dalton
recorded that, 'no Cambridge friendship of mine meant more to me
than this, and the radiance of his memory still lights my path'.46 Dalton
himself was nearly always something of an outsider in his political career
 MOVIES 1/7

(he was one of those whose money came in useful in securing a Labour
seat in the 19205) :47 he was a difficult man by nature, but in that, and in
his lack of popularity with those of his own class, his unattractive
appearance undoubtedly played a part.48 From all this, it is evident that
in the masculine power game in Britain in the early twentieth century
beauty was certainly not particularly important, especially when com-
pared with class position, but that it was nevertheless useful to be
personable and that there was the possibility of discrimination against
men who were not at least that. The prodigy at the end of the thirties,
who became personal secretary to Churchill during the Second World
War, John Colville, had the special good looks which could serve so
nicely to underwrite precocity.49
In America the admiration denied to government servants was
directed with full flourish towards entrepreneurs and business execu-
tives. Admiration for the truly self-made man was completely genuine;
and it was certainly possible to have an ugly face and make a fortune.
But recruitment into positions with high prospects within established
businesses very largely came from the well-educated upper sectors of
American society. At Yale two or three outsiders might be invited to
join the exclusive Skull and Bones Club, an excellent moving staircase
to high status in American business; looks might help, but the selected
students would need to have shown concrete achievement, say as foot-
ball captain, editor of the Yale Daily News, brilliant scholar or, perhaps,
charismatic student politician. At Princeton, looks were one of a dozen
or so headings on which students rated their classmates.50 Detailed study
has shown that in rating among classmates and, therefore, in election
to the influential fraternities, involving in turn the high road to good
jobs, looks did count; but what mattered above looks was the right
social background or, at the very least, complete conformity to the atti-
tudes and manners associated with that background.51 Again, the
conclusion is that beauty was far from a necessity, but that not being
at least personable could be a disadvantage.
From those moving in the power circles of society, let us turn to those
who served them. In general, the trends continued, and indeed acceler-
ated, whereby high-status servants were usually good-looking servants,
and shop assistants in high-class shops usually had a good appearance.
Some details may be gleaned from the recollections of Gordon Grimmet,
178 IT

who from being coachboy (or 'tiger', as they were called) during the First
World War rose to being a footman to Lady Astor. Tigers', who sat on
the box of the carriage, were, Grimmet noted, 'preferably small and
sweet faced.'52 Grimmet moved to a job as lampboy to the Marquis of
Bath at Longleat, then, while the war was still on, to the post of third
footman.
We were chiefly there as ornaments, for after we had dinner we were lined
up in the beautifully dim-lit corridor and just stood there for the rest of
the evening. It wasn't easy because we weren't expected to move, and pow-
der as it hardens on the head seems to drag the hair by the roots and
this caused the scalp to itch!! Nevertheless there's something artistically
satisfying in wearing full livery and carrying it well. It encourages grace-
ful movement and gesture and adds a bit of theatre and glamour to the
occasion.53

Grimmet also served at Bath's London house in Grosvenor Square. He

'enjoyed walking in the nearby Hyde Park':
I'd parade there in my waistcoat, with my starched shirt, white bow and
livery trousers and the girls would all turn their heads and say, 'There's a
footman' and I'd feel no end of a dog. I was a gayer bird than the soldiers
in their khaki and a rarer one.54

Appearance evidently counted for much in his appointment by Lady

Astor: 'He looks a big strong boy, Lee,' she commented to the butler.
As an attractive male and a good dancer, Grimmet also made a good
marriage: though only a second footman, he married the head gar-
dener's daughter, who enjoyed some status as a floral arranger inside
the Astor household.55 The butler, Lee, was reared in poverty and when
his father died and the family farm was sold up he seems to have gained
his early appointment in domestic service almost entirely on the basis
of appearance alone. He was appointed first footman to the Astors in
1912, the appointment being made by Parr the steward who commented,
'her Ladyship doesn't like pigmies'. At his first meeting with Lady Astor
she remarked: 'I hope you stay. Look after him Parr, he seems a nice
boy.'56
Although by this time good looks in female servants were often highly
prized, the story could still be rather different for them. While the asso-
ciation between beauty and sexuality was more openly recognised than
 MOVIES 1/9

ever before, and fashion was more directly sexual - or perhaps because
of these developments - manifestations of sexuality were very much
discouraged. Speaking of himself and a female servant at Longleat,
Grimmet recounted that: clt was a rule of the house of course that we
should never be in a bedroom together. For a man and a woman to see
a bed in company would, in the eyes of our employers, only excite evil
thoughts.' He further remarked that: 'There were some establishments
that, as the sons reached adolescence, made a sort of tally of their maids'
attractions. Those girls that came high on the list were gradually phased
out and replaced by plain ones.'57
As I have repeatedly stressed, the social promotion of a beautiful
woman in earlier ages, usually achieved by a stage-by-stage process of
careful exploitation of her charms, almost invariably involved the con-
ceding of sexual services; though, as we saw, the professional beauty,
admired by the masses, was emerging at the end of the nineteenth cen-
tury. The paradox of the modern evaluation of beauty as a quality of
inherent independent value is that, although the value is intimately asso-
ciated with sex appeal, it is not dependent on the actual occurrence of
sexual activity. If I try to establish the point from the career of one of the
most famous of all twentieth-century women, I do so from her early
career which was far from untypical, rather than from her later elevation
to the very pinnacle of celebrity.
Greta Gustafsson was born in Stockholm in 1905. Her father was a
street sweeper. When he died, she, at the age of fourteen, had to seek
work. Her first job was lathering faces in a local barber's shop. Her
beauty was already striking, and here she was spotted by the son of the
founder of Sweden's largest department store, PUB, where, like so many
other beautiful girls, she got a job as a shop assistant. There was, how-
ever, a special quality to her looks: while some beauties in their thirties
look twenty-one, Greta at fifteen, as she was in 1920 when she was asked
to model hats for the store, looked twenty. Today we can still enjoy the
fascination of the PUB spring catalogue, distributed in 50,000 copies,
with pictures of her kitted out in some quintessential hats of the early
twenties.58 Unsurprisingly, she immediately got work as a part-time
fashion model, a role in which a little dramatic talent is useful. At the
same time she deliberately sought roles as an extra in the Stockhom film
studios. The following year she appeared first in a film promoting PUB,
i8o IT

then in a genuine feature, Luffar-Petter (Peter the Tramp). 'Her voice/

the director commented, cdid not impress me, but her appearance
did/ 59 Movies were just at the beginning of their worldwide dominion.
PUB would not give Greta leave to take larger roles, so she made the cal-
culated, but courageous, decision to break with them. Even if we had
heard no more of her, she had still done pretty well for the daughter of
a street sweeper. However, as with other beautiful women who got right
to the top, she clearly did have talent, for she won a scholarship to the
Academy of Dramatic Theatre in Stockholm. With an international film
career now firmly in her sights (silent film was the international medium
of communication), she changed her surname to one that could be pro-
nounced easily in any language: Garbo. She was all of eighteen. At
nineteen she went to Hollywood; the rest is legend. She had not, the evi-
dence indicates, had to grant any sexual favours. Her Swedish director,
who went with her to Hollywood, was gay. Garbo never married, though
she had celebrated affairs with the great musician Stokowsky (who was
twenty-three years older than her), the film star John Gilbert, Gayelord
Hauser, George Schler and Cecil Beaton.
Other stars had already made it to the Hollywood that welcomed,
though never knew quite how to treat, Garbo. Gladys Smith was born
into a lower middle-class Toronto family in 1893. Her father died when
she was not yet five; at five and a half she was appearing on stage. By the
age of eight she had quite a reputation on the Toronto theatrical scene.
At ten she made her New York debut and was now supporting the fam-
ily. Even at this tender age she set out seriously to study other actors.
Dedication and talent, clearly these were vital factors. She was also a very
good-looking little girl; had she been plain it is impossible to believe that
she would have been accepted on to the stage in the way that she was.
She was also very determined, and she quite deliberately forced herself
on the leasing Broadway impresario, Belasco. He it was who gave her the
name Mary Pickford. She did well, but at the end of the season found
herself without a part. Reluctantly she took herself to the film company
Biograph, where there was just one film director, D. W. Griffith. He
cast Mary, now sixteen, with a small part as a ten year old in Her First
Biscuits:
whatever it is that makes one person in a million so photogenic that the
rest of us look at her with fascination, reflecting emotions from love to
 MOVIES l8l

hate - whatever that is, Mary Pickford had it. You can see it there on the
screen, just the way the camera recorded it on April 20, 1909.60
Personally I think 'what it is' is great natural beauty, together with com-
plete ease before the camera - quite a rare talent certainly, though 'one
in a million' is sheer hype. Undoubtedly in the harsh film light a youth-
ful complexion such as Mary possessed was a great advantage. She
worked for various directors before joining with Adolph Zukor,
who decided to forsake the short film for four-reelers: Tess of the Storm
Country, released on 30 March 1914 was enthusiastically received. In
the middle of the war, a few weeks after the American entry into it, the
Mary Pickford Motion Picture Company was formed; at twenty-three
she was earning over half a million dollars a year. Five years earlier, in
January 1911, she had married a fellow actor, Owen Moore, a very beau-
tiful creature, but with little talent and no great strength of character.
Moore might perhaps have had a great career as a footman or a gigolo;
as it was, he is yet another beautiful man to end up in the dustbin of
history.
The film which brought to cinema serious recognition by the middle
and upper classes was Griffith's The Birth of a Nation, released in June
1915. This was seen by a prospering actor, then thirty, who had previ-
ously been contemptuous of the medium. He now signed a contract
stipulating that he must be directed by Griffith himself. This actor had
been born in Denver, in May 1885, the illegitimate son of Ella Fairbanks
and Charles Ulman, who was Jewish. It was from his father that Dou-
glas Fairbanks inherited his dark skin, which was much resented by his
mother. He was good-looking, and exuded virility, energy and self-
assurance. As with any beautiful woman, there were winnings to be
made in the sexual stakes. In June 1907 he married Beth Sully, daughter
of an upper-class cotton trader. Fairbanks had to promise to forsake the
theatre for business. But soon he was back on stage, the marriage
remaining (for the time being) a secure and happy one. As a film actor
Fairbanks achieved fame with His Picture in the Papers. In November
1915 he and Mary Pickford, who had admired his stage performances,
met for the first time. In the post-war years they were to be, respectively,
'the most popular man in the world' and 'America's sweetheart'.61 A
celebrated triumvirate was completed by Charlie Chaplin. Chaplin was
certainly a personable enough fellow, but there there is no question that
182 IT

talent (genius, even), rather than looks, was the crucial ingredient in his
eminence in the film world.
Rodolfo Guglielmi, born in May 1895, came from a solidly prosper-
ous middle-class family in Castellenata in Italy. There was no pressing
need for him to emigrate to the United States at the end of the war, but
when he did he found himself facing starvation. As with a Jeanne Becu
or a Lillie Langtry, a calm assessment of his assets and their potential
was called for. Principally, his assets were romantic good looks and Ital-
ian grace. He became a 'taxi-dancer', a partner for hire in a public dance
hall and, on the side, a gigolo. As his first boss recognised: 'With your
looks and manner, you're going to spend a lot more time in bed with
your partners than on the dance floor', adding: 'Make sure you do it in
your own time and not in mine.'62 And, indeed, Guglielmi habitually
took what he called his clove break' between the tea dance and the
evening session. He worked hard on his dancing so that he could win a
star position at the elegant Maxim's, for which post he delved back deep
into family history in renaming himself di Valentina.
He was doing well, rather in the manner of a nineteenth-century
grande horizontale, drawing heavy financial support from his rich mis-
tress, when he fell foul of the sort of risk almost all those who live by
their sexuality must run: his mistress shot her husband. Guglielmi,
therefore, fled to San Francisco. Here he fell in with film people who
had travelled up from Hollywood. His dishy looks made a considerable
impression, but he had no immediate success in film and was forced to
go back to dancing. It might have ended there: an everyday story of a
beautiful male. However, he caught the eye of the established star May
Murray, who insisted on having him as her leading man. On the
strength of this, Guglielmi (or di Valentina), who certainly had no
shortage of sexual partners, got married, unfortunately to the frigid Jean
Acker. On marriage, he stabilised his name as Rudolph Valentino. It was
the top-ranking script writer June Mathis (another female!) who picked
out Valentino for The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The rest, if I
may dare to repeat the phrase, is legend. His life was stormy, and very
short; we are all familiar with newsreel of the massive crowd scenes after
Valentino's death, which cannot, of course, have been any consolation
to Valentino. But to see his death as some inevitable retribution (remi-
niscent of La Dame aux Camelias) for living by sex alone is to
 MOVIES 183

underestimate the force of contingency in history and the unexpected

lethality of the most harmless-seeming attack of appendicitis.
In the past, it had not been desperately important for male actors to
be beautiful if they had talent. Now, movies made it the basic rule that
film actors must be beautiful, as most stage actresses had always had to
be. There were to be male stars, usually taking specialised roles as char-
acter actors or tough guys, who were not beautiful. There are no exact
analogues among female stars, but one or two, while still filling tradi-
tional glamorous roles, did fall short of the standards set by the likes of
Clara Bow (who from an impoverished Brooklyn background won the
1921 'Most Beautiful Girl in the World' competition, based on photo-
graphs), Gloria Swanson, Greta Garbo or, at the end of the thirties,
Vivien Leigh. Even without a horrible accident at the age of eleven,
when the Christmas tree candles burned all the skin off her face, Bette
Davis was never going to be a beauty, but that accident certainly didn't
help. Her sympathetic biographer Charles Higham makes the point by
omission:

She never thought of herself as attractive, yet she was: her infectious laugh,
her stylish swinging walk, the trick of balancing herself on her heels and
turning unexpectedly, her quick wit, and her wide blue eyes started to
draw the attention of young bloods.63

She had a date with Henry Fonda: cShe was very attracted to him, but
he says he was not attracted to her.'64 What she did have was a driving
will, backed up by that of her mother, to become a successful actress.
She did.
When it came to casting the film of Margaret Mitchell's prodigiously
best-selling novel Gone with the Wind, Bette Davis seemed to many the
best-qualified actress for the role of Scarlett O'Hara, who, according to
Mitchell, was not beautiful, though loaded with sex appeal. But in film
a sex symbol had to be gorgeous. The part was won, against such can-
didates as Paulette Godard, Jean Arthur and Joan Crawford, by an
actress whose looks truly were stunning; looks assisted, it should be
added, by the mastering (on the part of an English girl) of the difficult
Southern accent and a piece of luck. The young English actor Laurence
Olivier (as a boy, a classic case of the dangers of good looks - he was
brutalised at his posh boarding school, where he was jeered at as 'the
184 IT

school tart') 65 was just beginning to make his career in Hollywood,

where his agent happened to be the brother of Gone with the Wind
producer David O. Selnick; through this contact Olivier was able to rec-
ommend his own wife Vivien Leigh. Olivier recorded: 'I looked back at
Vivien, her hair giving the perfect impression of Scarlett's, her cheeks
prettily flushed, her lips adorably parted, her green eyes dancing and
shining with excitement in the firelight; I said to myself, "David won't
be able to resist that."'66 He wasn't.
Movies gobbled up beautiful women, and in movies heroines were
always beautiful. What if, according to the screenplay, she was not? Even
in the 19505 that was a hard nut to crack, as was shown by the Academy
Award-winning film Marty (i955).67 This honourable film offers a pen-
etrating insight into the manners and morals of sections of
working-class and lower middle-class New York. Young males seek
sexual partners at the Stardust Ballroom which, we learn, is 'loaded with
[to attempt phonetic spelling] "tomaytoes"'. An even more vulgar word
was used for the accessible young women (nurses apparently) some of
the younger men are fortunate enough to get off with: 'squirrels'. Marty,
however, misses out on all this. As he cries out when his mother once
again raises the question of marriage (he is thirty-four): 'I am just a fat
little man. Fat ugly man. I'm ugly. I'm ugly'. Ernest Borgnine, already
an established star in tough masculine character parts, no handsome
pin-up for sure, carried conviction in this part, letting his stomach sag
and exuding a general air of defeat. Persuaded to go to the Stardust
Ballroom, he meets a young woman, brought on a blind date by a
young doctor, then callously dropped. She describes how on her last
visit to the ballroom she had sat for an hour and a half: guys who
approached her for a dance would suddenly have a change of mind at
the last moment. Dancing with her, Marty consoles her in her self-doubt
and loneliness with words of consummate charm: 'You see you're not
such a dog as you think you are', followed by, 'Guess I'm not such a dog
as I think I am'.
Clara, 'the dog', is twenty-nine. She and Marty get on well together,
but Marty's friend Angie, his peer group of male chauvinist bachelors,
and, most strikingly, his mother, are utterly contemptuous: Clara is
'scrawny', 'a dog', and 'looks at least fifty years old'. The revealing irony
in all this is that the actress who plays Clara, Betsy Blair, was in fact
 MOVIES 185

notably beautiful, with no attempt being made by the make-up depart-

ment to render her otherwise.68 Her alleged unattractiveness is merely
symbolised by her dress which is very formal, by the fact that she's a
chemistry teacher, by her reticent shyness, and, above all, by contrasting
her with the 'squirrels'. Thus the entirely false equation is made: that
plainness equals failure to project immediate availability (no doubt
bringing much false comfort to dozens of unhappy young film-goers).
Any normally-functioning male meeting Betsy Blair would, in the lap-
idary words of another of these philosophical experts on beauty, Clifford
Bax, 'find his aesthetic delight dangerously confused with his sexual
interest'69 (the two, as this book has, I hope, by now demonstrated are
inextricably intertwined). The sad fact is that it was still quite impossi-
ble for Hollywood in the 19505 to put a genuinely plain woman on
screen, at least in a contemporary drama with which audiences were
expected to identify: the trick to reassure (and fool) mass audiences was
to assert someone's unattractiveness and then show that (by a hundred
miles!) she was not so unattractive after all, and indeed could find love
and marriage. Verbally the old comforting convention that beauty is
more than skin deep was being restated, though the visuals, in fact, were
demonstrating the opposite. (I don't think the point is invalidated by
William Wyler's The Heiress (1948), a classic costume drama, based on
the nineteenth-century Henry James novel Washington Square, in which
Olivia de Havilland is made up to look fairly plain, or, at least, severe; it
is intriguing that Betsy Blair also had plain girl roles in two European art
movies, the Spanish Calle Major and the Italian II Grido, but scarcely
relevant to a discussion of mainstream ideas in the America of the 19505.)
No discussion of beauty in the forties and fifties could fail to refer to
Marilyn Monroe, whose life epitomises both the power and the tragic
fragility of beauty Her career points up old truths about a beautiful
young woman getting her start in the world by offering sex to powerful,
predatory and, often, ugly males, and yet also points ahead to the liber-
ation brought about by the cultural revolution of the 'swinging sixties'
whereby a woman could exploit the power of her beauty on her own
terms. Norma Jean Monroe (her mother's maiden name, though she
was sometimes also known as Norma Jean Baker), who was born on
i June 1926 in Los Angeles General Hospital, had an appalling child-
hood, pushed from foster home to foster home, then into an orphanage.
186 IT

She was kept going only by her conviction that, in this city of the world's
most immense dream factory, she would herself escape into film star-
dom.70 At fifteen, her erratic, legally-appointed guardian 'Aunt Grace'
presented her with the alternatives of marrying a local aircraft fitter, Jim
Dougherty, or returning to the orphanage. With the coming of war,
Jim was sent abroad, Norma Jean herself went into an aircraft factory.
There was no sign of a break in this working-class career pattern till the
appearance at the factory in late 1944 of an army photographer charged
with taking morale boosting shorts of attractive women doing war
work. He spotted Norma Jean at once and was responsible for launch-
ing her on a career, the quintessential one for the dumb beauty, as a
photographic pin-up.
Norma Jean was not in fact dumb, but she was certainly beautiful -
we have the films, we have photographs of her as a devastatingly natural
nineteen year old, we have the reactions of those around her (after
she had her first, false, break into movies, Darryl Zanuck, head of Twen-
tieth Century-Fox let her go because he did not find her attractive, and
she was also spurned by Howard Hawks - in Hollywood where there
were dozens of gorgeous eager girls, studio bosses who had them at their
feet and on their backs could exercise highly individual choices). It has
been suggested that her beauty (in the eyes of almost everyone - no
woman, I have said right from the start, can expect more) was con-
structed, through cosmetic surgery. Certainly she was an expert in the
application of make-up, and her hair (no surprise here), was bleached.
She was to be well ahead of her time in going jogging to preserve her
shapely, though buxom, figure. The first cosmetic surgery she had, also
a few years later, was of a very minor kind: first to straighten her teeth,
then to remove to tiny moles from her chin. Anyway, the next stage in
the Norma Jean story was her meeting with Andre di Dienes, a photog-
rapher of rather more ambitious cast than the man from the army.
Before discarding her, Twentieth Century-Fox gave her the name
Marilyn Monroe; she divorced Dougherty. She began a primary, and for
a time parallel, career as a pulp magazines pin-up, becoming 'Miss
Cheesecake of 1951' for the troops in Germany. (Whatever the legions of
adoring males might be doing with themselves, they were not,
obviously, having sexual congress with Marilyn.) Meantime, however,
she had joined the ranks of the petites horizontales attending the house
 MOVIES 187

parties of Hollywood moguls, constantly available, constantly hoping to

barter sex for the right part in the right film. 'House girl' at home of
producer Sam Spiegel, she was, on New Year's Eve 1948, spotted by
agent Johnny Hyde, who really did have an eye for beauty. Falling in
love with her, and wanting - a little runt, he had no hope - to marry
her, he was instrumental in getting her the roles in The Asphalt Jungle
(released in June 1950) and All About Eve (released in October 1950)
which conclusively demonstrated her star quality. It now became known
that the delicious nude in an immensely popular calendar series was
Marilyn Monroe, in a pose taken in 1949. In the pinched and prissy
morality of the time this revelation might have destroyed Monroe's film
career; however, she was able to turn it to her immense advantage, hav-
ing the story put about that she had only posed out of dire need for
money to pay the rent. Added to the image she was already establishing,
this sent her hurtling into orbit as the greatest sex symbol of all time
(symbol, note, not necessarily practitioner). She received massive pub-
licity, including the high-status accolade of a feature in Life, which
declared 'the genuine article is here at last - a sensational glamor girl,
guaranteed to entice people from all lands to the box office'.71 'Box
office', that was the key, for, in the future, a woman who was 'box office'
for millions had no need to sell sex to the powerful few. While all this
was going on, Marilyn was devoting prodigious efforts to learning how
to develop to the fullest her original, though wayward, talents as an
actress — the fruits, as everyone knows, were a series of classic films.
At the age of thirty-six Marilyn Monroe died from an overdose of
drugs, her death being surrounded by strange circumstances. It does
seem clear that the announcement was held up for several hours, prob-
ably in order to cover up her association with Robert Kennedy. That she
was actually murdered seems highly improbable; it is, however, quite
likely that she did not consciously intend suicide.72 Here these are not
central matters: the point is that a great screen goddess, with an unprece-
dented reputation, met a tragic death. But we do have to ask here, how
would Norma Jean have fared had she been plain? We don't know, of
course, but to have had plainness added to everything else could well
have meant an even unhappier life and perhaps an earlier tragedy. As to
happiness, that is always hard to calculate. Marilyn Monroe did enjoy
the fulfilment of relationships which, for short periods at least, went
188 IT

well, as with Arthur Miller and Joe DiMaggio; she enjoyed beautiful men
in her earlier life and famous ones in her later one; above all she had the
fulfilment of resounding and acknowledged success in her chosen career.
Personal beauty was the essential ingredient.
I have already included Rudolph Valentino among the sexy, beautiful
stars of the twentieth century. As we move through the fifties it becomes
more and more easy to compare male stars and female stars on some-
thing like level ground. Opinions will differ, but there would be a fair
case for arguing that the male analogue of Marilyn Monroe was Elvis
Presley. Both were exceptionally beautiful, and both were stunningly
sexy - Monroe because of the use of her voice, her eyes, her entire body
language, Presley because of the profoundly suggestive gyrations of his
lower body as he sang with his rich, seductive voice. Monroe bleached
her hair, Presley dyed his black. Monroe was a serious actress who
worked hard to improve her technique; Presley was a gifted musician,
with a wonderful voice, who, intentionally or not, played a key role in
the transformation of popular music from the boring ballads and swing
of the forties and early fifties to the rock music of the sixties. Both died
young, and in distress, Monroe in 1962, aged thirty-six, Presley in 1977,
aged forty-two. Monroe remained in good condition, curvaceous, but
shapely to the extent that she had always been; Presley became gross, his
looks disappearing under layer upon layer of fat. Monroe continued to
receive critical acclaim, giving her greatest performances in her last
films; Presley gathered much criticism, particularly for abandoning rock
for sentimental ballads, but the fact remains he was the single most pop-
ular singer in the first era of pop music. From her earliest years,
Monroe, so clear have ideas of women as the beautiful sex always been,
was recognised as beautiful, even though she came from a desperately
impoverished background. Presley, however, was no Anthony Eden, no
Rudolph Valentino: his looks, to Americans of his day, had no 'class',
he was simply a gorgeous working-class hunk, whose beauty nakedly,
directly and threateningly communicated sexuality. Thus, in contrast to
the experiences of Monroe, his first middle-class friends actually found
his appearance, as Peter Guralnick, one of his best biographers put it, ca
bit off-putting',73 continuing that he 'needed a haircut', the rather greasy
attempt at a duck's arse coiffure signalling vulgarity and the very oppo-
site of beauty. Guralnick insists that it was Elvis's ingratiating quality
 MOVIES 189

rather than perceived physical beauty which got him started. I'm not
sure about that since people do pretend not to see beauty (think of
Cora Pearl), when it is really beauty which is affecting them most
deeply. What is certain is that by the later fifties Elvis had triumphantly
emerged as the prototype of the beautiful male icon, so important in our
contemporary world.
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 9

The Swinging Sixties

At all times beauty has been recognised as having a special potency of

its own, but the implications of this have usually been severely limited
by the persistence of traditional conventions and shibboleths. With
technological innovation, the weakening of religious faith, the growth of
mass society, these conventions and shibboleths met with increasing
challenges, yet the traditional approach to human beauty has proved
extremely resilient. The greatest challenges of all came during that
unique convergence of economic, technological, social, cultural, ideo-
logical and political forces, that blossoming of youth culture, civil rights
and women's liberation which came about between the late 19508
and the early 19705, known to historians as the 'International Cultural
Revolution of the Long Sixties', and to others as 'the Swinging Sixties'.1
Entailed within this 'revolution' was the triumph of the modern view of
beauty, of physical, 'surface' beauty as possessing an independent value
in itself - not, of course, in the hearts and minds of every single indi-
vidual, but in society at large, in its public mores, its newspapers, its
advertisements, its television programmes, its social, cultural and polit-
ical behaviour. In the traditional view, the prized qualities were social
position and wealth; beauty, apart from being an enticement to the sin
of lust, was seen as a menace to both of these. Now beauty was univer-
sally praised and sought after; it had achieved a kind of parity with class
and wealth, and was certainly no enemy to either.
While the response to beauty is a deep sexual instinct (sometimes
experienced vicariously, as among those admiring pin-ups, the masses
attending theatres or cinemas or men - as well as women - registering
the sex appeal of handsome male celebrities), it requires reasonable
living standards and real opportunities for comparison, contrast and
choice (as provided, for example, through living in a major urban
192 IT

centre, or through travel, or through cultural exchange, or through all

three) for a full appreciation of human beauty in all its varieties. Hence
the importance of the point that the cultural transformations of the
19608 were international. For most of the 19508 western Europe was still
very different from the United States, while America itself was in many
ways inward-looking and parochial. But in the 19608, European life-
styles and fashion penetrated even the American Midwest. International
pop culture, with important components from black America and
working-class Britain, became all-pervasive. On the screens of cinemas
and of domestic television sets, there appeared film stars and models
drawn from a great array of geographical and national backgrounds.
One was the working-class Scot, Sean Connery (the first 'James Bond'),
whose slow, deliberate Edinburgh accent had the perfect mid-Atlantic
nuances and comprehensibility for the new international culture: he, as
Paris Match pointed out in April 1963, exuded sexuality, as did the
actresses from many countries who appeared with him.2 In the same
year, an American fashion writer, remarking that 'all the girls copy one
another', admitted that 'the trend-setters among them copy French and
Italian film actresses as Hollywood stars seem rather behindhand nowa-
days'.3
In an international culture there was a boom in international love
affairs, all publicised by the press, again drawing attention to beauty
in all its glamorous variety. One multiple entanglement brought
together the lives of French film director Roger Vadim, his first numi-
nous protegee, Brigitte Bardot, the stars and singers Annette Stroyberg,
Sacha Distel, Yves Montand, Marilyn Monroe, and Montand's wife,
Simone Signoret; a simpler one involved British photographer David
Bailey, the British model Jean Shrimpton and the French star, Cather-
ine Deneuve. Most resonant is the soppy little story of two middle-class
unknowns carried by Paris Match in September 1965: 'The One Who
Has Conquered the Most Beautiful Girl in the World: A French
Student':
Ingrid, the beautiful fiancee from Nuremberg, cries out in French: 'How
suntanned you are!' Roland, the French student replies to her in German:
c
lch wusste dass du die Schonste warst!' [I knew very well that you were
the most beautiful!'] And Roland takes in his arms the girl whom he will
marry in two years time, Ingrid Finger, twenty years old, whom a jury in
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 193

Palm Beach has just consecrated cMiss International Beauty 1965'. Their
story is one of the happy results of the extensive interchange between
young people of the two countries: this year 150,000 young people aged
twenty visited Germany. Three years ago Roland ... was on holiday near
Sete. The Finger family happened to be passing through ... looking for a
camping ground ...
And, beneath the sun of Herault, the lightning struck. Ingrid and Roland
together spent four weeks of bliss ... Ingrid entered the Studio Suzanne,
the school for models in Nuremberg. Her file contains her measurements:
height 1.7 metres, weight 55 kilogrammes, bust 91 centimetres, waist 58
centimetres, hips 91 centimetres. And these perfect proportions con-
tributed to her successive elections in 1965 as Miss Munich, Miss Bavaria
and, on 14 May last, Miss Germany. Invited to Palm Beach, she walked off
finally with ... the title of Miss International beauty. Ingrid received a
prize of ten thousand dollars ... These ten thousand dollars, they will be
the dowry which Miss Beauty offers to the little Ingrid.
Whatever the defects of the literary style, the accompanying photo-
graphs show both Ingrid and Roland to be very beautiful young people
indeed.4
Female Hollywood stars of the fifties were certainly beautiful, but,
with the explosive exception of Marilyn Monroe, they tended to con-
form to a rather limited range of types consonant with ail-American
ideals of domesticity: big breasts were highly respected, but preferably
allied to an air of innocent wholesomeness. The only challenge to
Monroe as the great sex goddess came from European stars: first Gina
Lollobrigida, then Vadim's 'discovery5, Brigitte Bardot. A more interest-
ing case for our present purposes is that of Monica Vitti, star of
Antonioni's film of 1959, L'Avventura. She had a prominent Roman nose
and a lean, intensely sensitive look, and struck audiences at the time as
being 'different'; different types of beauty were becoming acceptable
as never before. At the same time as Vitti, there appeared a rather special
type of mature Italian male beauty, soulful, a tad vulnerable, that of
Marcello Mastroianni.
As new types of beauty, both male and female, forced their way onto
the screens of some commercial cinemas, Hollywood grasped the virtues
of international film making, where the low costs and high talents of
European countries could be exploited. Paramount's 1960 film about
alleged female collaborators in the Second World War, Five Branded
194 IT

Women, called for five actresses so intrinsically beautiful that they could
appear with their hair shorn. Life identified it as
a good example of the new international look in moviemaking. It was pro-
duced by Italy's Dino DeLaurentiis, directed by America's Marin Pit, and
photographed in Italy and Austria. Its five shorn actresses were recruited
from three countries - two each from the US and Italy, one from France.5

The same magazine, in January 1966, had a cover story on The New
Freewheeling Film Beauties of Europe'. In the comments attributed to,
or made about, these actresses, uninhibited expression is given to the
notion of the autonomous value of beauty; the talent of these strikingly
different women, it is made clear, lay fundamentally in their personal
appearance. As Catherine Deneuve summed up: C I owe my start in
movies entirely to my face and body'.6 Each of the British stars who
gained international renown also represented very different types of
beauty: among women, Julie Christie and Vanessa Redgrave; among
men, Peter O'Toole, Terence Stamp, Michael York and, as already men-
tioned, Sean Connery. If ever there was a time when one particular
convention of beauty reigned above all others (and I have suggested that
in real life among flesh-and-blood people such conventions matter
much less than the theorists of relativism maintain), that time was
destroyed in the sixties with films, and television, presenting beauty in
its manifold varieties. (I shall come to non-Caucasian types shortly.)
Many of the themes informing this chapter run through the English-
language film which Antonioni made in 'swinging London' in 1967,
Blow Up. For the part of photographer, Thomas, Antonioni had wanted
Terence Stamp, but settled for the equally beautiful (though sweetly fea-
tured rather than toughly macho) David Hemmings. Of these British
male figures Antonioni said: 'They are the heroes of the age, they have
invented new canons of beauty'.7 Actually, they had not invented new
canons but had revealed what many had always known: that beauty
comes in many varieties and is to be found in males as well as females.
Because of rising living standards and better medical care, young peo-
ple growing up in the later fifties and early sixties were stronger and
healthier than ever before. Those born with a good bone structure and
balanced features were less likely now to fall victims along the way
to some wasting or deforming disease, or even to bad teeth. Thus the
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 195

proportion of beautiful people in developed societies went up. More

important, the proportion of the personable, those whose attractiveness
lay in their healthy youthfulness and general vivacity, rather than any
rare distinction of beauty, also went up. At the same time the youthful
fashions of the day, which older people, if they could, were keen to
espouse, exposed natural endowments — male as well as female — and,
accordingly, were cruel to natural imperfections. As New York Times
fashion expert Marilyn Bender summarised in 1967:
The purpose of fashion used to be dissimulation, the pretence that women
were pretty, had perfect bodies, romantic spirits and that they were essen-
tially helpless. Pop fashion, like pop art, lays the subject on the line. Fatty
knees, wrinkled elbows, ruthless natures are exposed for all to see.8

Pop fashion for men entailed, among other things, tight, unpleated, hip-
slung trousers, admirably suited to shapely young men, but doing
nothing to conceal scrawny legs or protuberant stomachs. Notably,
however, while the general shape of the male leg was now shown off (as
it had been prior to the Victorian period), the leg itself remained con-
cealed. There was almost no concealment in the miniskirt, invented for
female wear by the British designer Mary Quant in 1965.
This book is deliberately confined to western societies because it is
within those societies that the modern evaluation of beauty, now domi-
nant throughout the world, evolved. But what of the minority commu-
nity within the United States, that of the Afro-Americans, blacks, or, in
the language of both white Americans and of themselves at the begin-
ning of the 19605, 'Negroes'. My main source is the cNegro' publication,
Ebony, which by the later fifties had become a lavish monthly colour
magazine; owned by a black family and produced by a mixed staff on
which blacks were in a majority, it was selling three quarters of a million
copies, and probably reaching a total of five million readers. Consis-
tently, there is throughout a very heavy emphasis on questions of per-
sonal appearance, discussed at two quite different levels. Most of the
items are relatively trivial in nature, mainly aimed at black women exer-
cised by the problem of securing a husband; but some articles firmly tie
the question of personal appearance with that of civil rights - as blacks
became more assertive and more powerful, they must, the argument
was, present an appearance of which all blacks can be proud.
196 IT

Ebony carried a large number of advertisements featuring black

models; it also carried a very large number of advertisements for hair
straighteners, skin whiteners, and many other 'beauty aids' designed to
help blacks look as much like whites as possible - the accepted ortho-
doxy was that black women, if not black men, should always straighten
their hair. As well as regular articles on grooming and make-up, and
on fashion, there were frequent articles on beauty competitions, on the
personal appearance of famous black women, on 'best-dressed Negro
women', on such questions as 'what is the best age for beauty?' (treated
with a down-to-earth wit, typical of the magazine - 'beauty experts say
women, like wines, improve with age', but 'science, skin specialists, even
Doctor Kinsey, have not succeeded in dousing the average male's enthu-
siasm for a young bustling companion'),9 and, each June, an article on
'eligible bachelors'. This series did not in any way take the line that
men should be assessed on their looks - in fact most of those selected
were earnest, bespectacled and distinctly unglamorous, what they stood
for being economic success; the main thrust of each article concerned
what such men were looking for in a woman. Again we have a touch
of the usual down-to-earth wit: 'baseball player Willie McCobey, 24',
one of the 1962 eligible bachelors, 'of the San Francisco Giants describes
his ideal woman as sports minded, honest and understanding, with
charm and beauty. Being a realist he says he'll sacrifice a little beauty
if the woman has all the other qualities'. The summing-up for 1964 was:
'As with last year's round-up, the bachelors placed a premium on brains
and personality but admitted that beauty still rates a strong considera-
tion'. The following year there was the standard endorsement of brains
and character, followed in block capitals by: 'NOT ONE OBJECTS
TO BEAUTY'.10 At the core of all this lies the assumption (never in
any way stated explicitly) that a black woman will have a struggle to
secure even a plain, though economically successful and upwardly
mobile black man. Her energy should be directed to making herself
look as much like a white woman as possible. It is recognised that a
black man may occasionally marry a white woman; this will happen
when the black man is economically very successful, so the marriage
will actually represent an economic and social advancement for the
white woman concerned. In December 1965 there was a sad letter from
a black girl ('I'm considered pretty'), lamenting that black men were
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 197

going after white girls and ignoring black ones, while white men were
not going after black girls.11 When, at the end of the decade, Holly-
wood did get round to treating this issue in Guess Who's Coming to
Dinner (an honourable and witty film, though reviewed by one black
critic as 'warmed over white shit'), the relationship was black man and
white woman, and the man was mature and very distinguished, the
woman very young.
The successful black women featured in Ebony all had the look of imi-
tation whites; this is particularly evident in the cover and illustrating
article of October 1961 on - and the pun may have been intended -
'Ebony Fashion Fair Beauties'. Wherever black girls did well in beauty
competitions open to both blacks and whites Ebony was there reporting
enthusiastically; invariably what the black girls won was never more
than a consolation prize; but, then, as seen in Ebony's highly profes-
sional photographs, they were never particularly beautiful. The puzzle is
explained when it is appreciated that these competitions featured 'tal-
ent' - usually singing ability - as well as mere beauty. It seems that black
women were not actually expected to look beautiful, though they were
expected to be able to sing. Some black women were very beautiful, and
in the less prejudiced international scene at Cannes black models won
titles as International Queen of the Cannes Film Festival in 1959 and
again in 1960. When, in February 1966, Ebony featured a cover story
entitled 'Are Negro Girls Getting Prettier?', the six models on the cover
and most of the women whose photographs appeared inside were of the
usual type. The basic message was that 'better nutrition' and 'grooming
know-how' have 'elevated today's young lady of hue to a place of promi-
nence among the most pulchritudinous'.12 Three bombs exploding in
the letters column of the subsequent issue signalled that the revolution
was under way:
Your February, 1966 issue ... asks the question: 'Are Negro Girls Getting
Prettier?' Why don't you put some Negro girls so we can see (instead of
the half white)? Are you ashamed of the Negro girl? Or do you go along
with the white man's premise that a Negro can only be good-looking when
he/she is mixed with the white race?
The cover of your (Feb) issue delivered today made me (and a lot of other
people I'll wager) wince. It should be titled 'Are Negro Girls Getting
Whiter?'
198 IT

Come to my high school and 111 show you some girls to photograph who
will illustrate, I believe, that Negro girls have always been pretty.
Yes, Negro girls are getting prettier! But your cover is a refutation of the
statement. The majority of us are dark brown with bold features. The girls
on your cover do illustrate various types of beauty. You have, however,
omitted several other beautiful types which are much more typical of our
people.13

In June 1966 Ebony itself, editorially, made the break. The cover story
was: 'The Natural Look: New Mode for Negro Women'. In an earlier
discussion of this I then continued:
The cover photograph was of the most beautiful black woman I person-
ally have ever seen, an absolutely beautifully proportioned and intensely
appealing face, surmounted by close-cropped fuzzy hair.14

Certain feminists, and one pompous, hide-bound historian, unable to

envisage personal appearance being treated as a serious subject, mocked
this sentence as subjective and unscholarly,15 ignoring my explanation
that I had intended to back this judgement with a copy of the photo-
graph, but that, because of invasion of privacy legislation, had been
denied the print I requested. Sometimes one is forced to rely on having
gained the trust, or at least the forbearance of one's readers: all I can say
is that I have no doubt that the majority of readers, female as well as
male, would agree with me if they could see this photograph (which, I
may add, is supported by a series of other photos of her inside that June
1966 issue of Ebony. For once this was no model or blues singer, but a
twenty-year-old Chicago civil rights worker (some of my feminist crit-
ics, I fancy, took the view that it was demeaning to comment on the
good looks of someone doing such an estimable job). The main article,
c
The Natural Look: Many Negro Women Reject White Standards of
Beauty', is of seminal significance:
throughout the ages, American women of color have conspired to conceal
the fact that their hair is not like any other ... for the girl in the street - the
coed, the career woman, the housewife, the matron and even the maid
who had been born with 'bad' or kinky hair, the straightening comb
and chemical processes seemingly offered the only true paths to social
salvation.
Not so today, for an increasing number of Negro women are turning
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 199

their backs on traditional concepts of style and beauty by wearing their

hair in its naturally kinky state ...
c
We, as black women, must realize that there is beauty in what we are,
without having to make ourselves into something we aren't,' contends
Suzi Hill, 23-year-old staff field worker with the Southern Christian Lead-
ership Conference. £So many little Negro girls feel frustrated because their
hair won't grow, or because they have what is called "bad hair" ... By the
time they're adults, this feeling has become so much a part of them they're
even afraid to answer the telephone if their hair hasn't been done. Negro
women are still slaves in a way.'

The sentiments are ones I totally agree with, though, obviously, 'beauty'
is being used in the traditional way, embodying moral and 'spiritual'
qualities rather than mere physical ones. So, of course, with the slogan
of the black liberation movement, 'Black is Beautiful'. And, despite age-
old convention, hair is not the single most important element in making
a woman truly beautiful (though it may be the most important - and
highly desirable - element making a woman who is not beautiful more
attractive). As we know today, a beautiful woman can shave her head
and remain beautiful. Some black women were very beautiful and had
no need to imitate white women; many black women, like many white
women, were not beautiful - that's life. The key development of the six-
ties was that new choices were being opened up, and beauty was being
recognised as a natural physical quality, not something attained by the
slavish imitation of convention.
It was part of the new sensibility, tied also to further advances in the
status and emancipation from tradition of women, that the basic per-
sonal appearance of men, apart from their dress and grooming, was
receiving more and more attention. In March 1964 a top male film actor
had this written about him:
While most people who have seen him agree that his boyish face belies his
37 years, they would disagree with his self appraisal of 'averageness'. At six-
foot-two, he is four inches taller than the average American male and there
is nothing average about the feline grace of contained power with which
he moves his lean frame across the stage or screen.
Undoubtedly one of Poitier's biggest assets in today's climate of chang-
ing racial values is the dark complexion of his handsome clean-cut face.

Black actor Sidney Poitier had himself modestly said: CI am blest with a
2OO IT

kind of physical averageness that fits Negroes between 18 and 40. I look
like what producers are looking for'.16 The real point was that Poitier's
colour was no longer an obstacle to the perception on all sides that he
was a very beautiful man. And whatever the confusion still enveloping
many black women in America (protests over Ebony's support for nat-
ural hair were prolonged and furious),17 one, a model from Detroit, had
established herself on the European scene by mid-1966 as one of the
most photographed models of the time: Donyale Luna.
This really does drive home the point that the many varieties of
beauty were now being recognised. It is simply not a matter of Jean
Shrimpton's type of beauty being cin' one year, and that of Twiggy the
next. Such being the way of the fashion industry, and such the way of
the mass media, it is true that one type would be very strongly featured
at one point in time, and another at another; but for ordinary people
with ordinary reactions, both Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton, and many,
many others in all sorts of different types, were beautiful all of the time.
Thanks to the Cultural Revolution of the Long Sixties there was less
pressure than ever before to conform to dictates and conventions in this
matter.
I concentrate for a moment on Jean Shrimpton ('The Shrimp') and
Twiggy (born Lesley Hornby) partly because, in respect of recognition
in the annals of history, they will stand with Veronica Franco, Nell
Gwyn, Lillie Langtry and Marilyn Monroe (that they, as models, should
do so, is in itself an historical phenomenon of significance), but also
because, though they were exceptionally gifted and exceptionally fortu-
nate, their careers give insights into the way in which opportunities for
the beautiful had again broadened and changed. First there is the great,
and insufficiently recognised paradox to which I have already alluded
several times. In the climate of explicitness,18 the relationship between
beauty and sexuality was more openly paraded than ever before; among
the highest compliments was to call someone 'sexy' and sexual attrac-
tiveness and sexual success were among the most envied and the most
highly prized attributes. Yet whereas the fame and fortune of Veronica
Franco, Nell Gwyn, Lillie Langtry and, to some degree at least, Marilyn
Monroe, had depended on sexual transactions with men, the sheer eco-
nomic demand now for beautiful faces meant that women, while openly
exposing their sexuality (as, indeed, did men in similar roles), were not
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 201

required to grant actual sexual favours. This had been a long process:
some actresses (Sarah Siddons and Ellen Terry, for instance) had made
it on looks and talent alone, as subsequently did many film stars, includ-
ing, for example, Greta Garbo.
The rise in importance and prestige of the photographic model was
intimately connected with the enormous expansion in advertising. Of
similar significance in creating job opportunities for the good-looking
was the proliferation of television commercials, soap operas and situa-
tion comedies, the growth of public relations, the advent of boutiques,
bistros and fast-food outlets aimed at the young, and the boom in pop
music. The appreciation of the marketability of beauty is revealed in the
sudden development in the late fifties of agencies of various sorts, and
especially modelling agencies: for example those of Catherine Harle in
Paris and Lucie Clayton in London. The opportunities I am speaking of
were opportunities for men as well as women. If a woman is selling her-
self essentially on her beauty, then, in the last analysis, it is men she will
have to please: but, if it is clothes she is modelling, it is women who will
be choosing the clothes. Modelling agencies and modelling schools were
often run by women. Such is the background to the striking fact that
Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy, and also, for that matter, dress designer
Mary Quant, owed a great deal to the perceptiveness and support of the
particular men with whom they were personally associated.
Jean Shrimpton was born in November 1942, into 'the extended
upper class',19 her father being a businessman and Buckinghamshire
farmer; she went to a convent school and was brought up with horses -
in David Bailey's words, ca county chick, all MGs, daddy, and chinless
wonders'.20 A social phenomenon of the post-war world had been the
way in which the upper class had moved into the various branches of
the media and advertising (as well as more traditional pursuits such as
banking, accountancy and the higher levels of the law). The term
'model' was widely used to connote expensive prostitute (in a famous
letter to The Times, at the height of the Profumo affair, whose central
protagonist was the high-class prostitute Christine Keeler, always
referred to in the press as a 'model', Lucie Clayton wrote that she pre-
sumed it would be only fair if the models in her agency referred to
Keeler as 'the well-known journalist'),21 yet modelling was already
recognised as a proper career for a respectable upper-class English girl,
202 IT

and the rewards of photographic modelling were already much higher

than those of the traditional (and often aristocratic) mannequin. How-
ever, like so many other young women, in 1960, at eighteen, Shrimpton
enrolled on a course in shorthand and typing. There are plenty of fam-
ily snaps of her from a very early age. She was very much in the
upper-class English style, long-legged and slim, with a lovely innocently
sexy face. She was also well brought up, and shy; belonging to an
affluent environment in which most of the girls were personable and
well groomed, she was probably not fully aware of her own beauty.
Others were. While sitting in the lunchtime sun in Hyde Park, she was
spotted and approached by film director Cy Endfield and persuaded to
meet his producer; however, the latter turned her down. She was then
approached by a photographer: taking the cue, and being both fed up
with shorthand and typing, and under no pressing necessity to earn her
own living, she enrolled at a modelling school.
It is customary in guides to modelling to say that models do not have
to be stunning beauties - indeed Jean Shrimpton says this herself in The
Truth about Modelling.22 It is also always pointed out that photographic
models have to be on the slim side since it is one of the quirks of the
camera that it represents a person as if with an additional fine layer of
flesh, making them look heavier than they really are, by as much as ten
pounds.23 Still this scarcely adds up to a case that models are socially
constructed, or manufactured by the media, or whatever: they sell on
what they look like in their photographs, that is to say, with this 'extra
layer of flesh', so it is absurd to argue that a new style of scrawniness is
being constructed. Anyway, slimness has always been highly regarded,
fatness never praised. The notion that almost anyone, given the right
circumstances, can be constructed into a model is best met by Shrimp-
ton's own fairly gentle words: CA heavy jaw-line, or squashy or bumpy
nose is not helpful', and the eyes 'mustn't squint or disappear when you
laugh'.24 Certainly there is a quality of being photogenic which, it seems,
some people have and others do not; but, principally, being photogenic
means being able to appear natural in front of the camera, not freezing.
Shrimpton went to a good modelling school, she signed up with a top
agent, Lucie Clayton, she had contacts, she was beautiful, she was pho-
togenic. Without her association with David Bailey, Jean Shrimpton
would probably have had at least a moderately successful career as a
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 203

photographic model. Bailey having risen from the working class to

become an elite photographer, they moved in the same circles, without
Bailey at first being struck by her potential. But when they did team up,
he exerted an enormous influence over her and it seems reasonable to
accept her own estimate that he played a crucial part in her rise to a
position of being for several years the world's top model.
Lesley Hornby was born in 1949 into an entirely different family back-
ground, not working class as was often said, but suburban lower middle
class. Her father's job (he was a master craftsman from Bolton) was in
essence working class, but his post-war employment at the MGM stu-
dios in Boreham Wood gave him rather higher status and income
(contrary to Marxist nonsense the middle classes recruit from a wide
range of backgrounds, and lower middle class and working class are
often close). The family owned their own house in the quintessentially
lower middle-class suburb of Neasden, and they had a car. Lesley's
mother had come from a poor background and had worked as a shop
assistant in Woolworth's; she had been a most attractive woman (she
got engaged four times). Not being able to afford make-up, she used to
put soot from the fireplace round her eyes, and always pinched her
cheeks before entering a room (the way in which beautiful women
sometimes had to live through their beautiful daughters - or sons! - is
a topic worthy of further study). Twiggy - she was not called this in her
childhood although, contrary to what is often said, she acquired this
nickname before being launched as a model - was much more integrally
involved in the sixties youth revolution than Shrimpton, making her
own dresses in order to conform to the style of her peer group. She
claims that she 'really hated what I looked like as teenager ... In all these
pictures of me at around twelve I am wearing a brassiere with Kleenex
stuffed in'.25 Nonetheless, such were her neat figure and sweetly perfect
looks that several people thought that she was, or ought to be, a model.
In March 1965, when she was fifteen and a half, and still at school, she
met Nigel John Davies, or Justin de Villeneuve, as he was already call-
ing himself. He was twenty-five and came from an incontrovertibly
working-class family. Britain remained very much a society divided up
by social class, but it was a consequence of the welfare and educational
reforms of the 19405 that a kind of classless group was formed of tough,
independent-minded, young individuals, taking jobs on the fringes or in
204 IT

the interstices of the class structure - general building and decorating,

antique dealing, hairdressing, bouncing at clubs, pop music (inevitably),
photography, and often on the edges of the law. Justin de Villeneuve had
led a tough, colourful and sometimes semi-villainous life. At the time
of his meeting with Twiggy he was working on an antique stall with Gra-
ham Morris-Jones, with whom he also had a partnership in interior
decoration. Villeneuve's rise obviously owed much to his personality,
intelligence and guts; but, arguably, the particular roles he filled were
(another case to be noted in passing) dependent on his great natural
beauty. Of his partnership with Morris-Jones he says: 'He was an archi-
tect, he did the jobs, and I was the front man, I would talk the deal and
wear the nice clothes. I always looked smart. First impressions are
important'.26 Twiggy met Justin at the hairdressers where his brother
Tony was working. Twiggy's reaction was: 'I thought he was lovely.
Everyone liked him - everyone always does.' Justin's reactions: 'There
was this lovely little girl, so tiny and so beautiful. She was breathtaking.'
These developments show the force of contingency - as well as that of
human beauty - in history.
It happened that brother Tony had a friend who dabbled in photo-
graphy, and Twiggy was taken down to Wimbledon Common to pose
for a few shots. Villeneuve claimed (admittedly much later, but there is
no reason to doubt the testimony): 'When I saw her being photographed
on Wimbledon Common that day, that was the moment I knew I would
crack it ... Twiggy just had something about her that was absolutely
right'.27 It will be observed that Villeneuve's reactions were utterly self-
centred, entirely oriented towards his own promotion, just like the
calculations of the roue Du Barry in eighteenth-century Paris. He was
not looking at Twiggy as a sex object for his personal gratification but as
someone with a marketable value that could make his own fortune. It
was actually quite independently of Villeneuve that, while Twiggy was
buying herself an old fur, a photographer - seeing her as she looked
before there was ever any question of her being 'constructed' into a pub-
lic figure - took a picture of her for an article in London Look about
young girls wearing old clothes. Photographer Michael Molyneux, to
whom Twiggy was introduced by Villeneueve, expressed a view shared
by most who met her: 'She's got a lovely face, she could have a chance'.
However, the wisdom of the day was that a model must be at least five
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 2O5

foot seven tall, with not less than a thirty-three-inch hip. On the other
hand, the rage of the times was for youth, the trend in fashion towards
the sort of clothes which perfectly suited Twiggy, and which, indeed, she
herself was adept at making. Maybe an element of artifice and grooming
did help resolve the impasse. Twiggy had an eight-hour session at exclu-
sive hairdressers Leonard's, the time being largely taken up with
repeated drying out, to see if the very, very short style being designed for
her was exactly right. It was, as Villeneuve recorded:
She really looked extraordinary when she emerged at the end of that day.
I had always thought her head was the most wonderful shape, but now her
hair was cut so cleverly to show the shape - she was an amazing sight. All
the clients at Leonard's just turned and gasped. There was this little cock-
ney girl in a little white gown, with her long neck and her huge, huge eyes
- she looked like a fawn. She looked like Bambi: I knew then that she really
was going to make it.28
She did. The Daily Express hailed 'the face of '66 - Twiggy the Cockney
kid with the face to launch a thousand shops and she's only sixteen'. A
successful visit to Paris, and a stupendous one to the United States fol-
lowed. The witty and the jealous laid great emphasis on her alleged
skinniness and absence of breasts. The American line was: 'From the
neck down, forget it'; the funnier, but scarcely more tasteful English
one, 'Forget Oxfam. Feed Twiggy'.29 It has been argued that somehow,
by commercial chicanery and deliberate contrivance, men were led to
switch from loving big breasts to loving none at all. Actually, Twiggy,
with her thirty-one-inch bust, had small, but perfectly proportioned
breasts; and, as we have seen, girlish breasts have always been very
highly rated.
Without their looks, Shrimpton and Twiggy would have been
nowhere; with Twiggy beauty lifted her out of her class into fabulous
fame and riches. This process is particularly evident among the most
famous male celebrities of the day, including David Bailey, and such
actors as Terence Stamp, David Hemmings, Michael Caine and Sean
Connery, all from solidly working-class backgrounds. Important ingre-
dients in their successes were talent and the opportunities offered by the
current cultural context, but the inescapable conclusion is that personal
beauty now operated as a characteristic which could out-trump the old
imperatives of class. An even more important conclusion is that,
2O6 IT

because these highly socially mobile and successful males were in fact
personally beautiful, beauty became closely identified with success, as a
necessary, or at least likely, component of it.
As with Monroe, Presley and Twiggy, special attention must be given
to the pop group the Beatles, three working-class lads, and one lower
middle-class one (John Lennon). From the time of their two stunningly
successful American tours in 1964, the Beatles were international figures
of the first order, soon conquering all of Europe.30 An American female
student who saw them on tour commented: It was really fun to watch
them. At first I couldn't tell them apart ... They were cute; they were
charming; they were clever; they were talented ... They had different
characters. Like John, the strong, sort of satirical, and then, of course,
Paul, the cutest one'.31 'Cute' is another word in the everyday and
inevitably flexible vocabulary, which includes cpretty', 'lovely', 'hand-
some' and 'good-looking'; one relies on the context to decide if what is
really meant is 'beautiful'. This girl had got it right (photographs of the
group, not to mention film, are legion): Paul McCartney was uniquely
beautiful; George Harrison was darkly beautiful in a rather conventional
way; John Lennon was personable and sensitive looking; Ringo Starr,
who had been specially recruited into the original group as a brilliant
drummer, was less well favoured. But Ringo sat at the back, and collec-
tively the Beatles presented an appearance of youthful good looks and
charm in which the sexuality was not too stridently stressed. The Beatle
haircut, not short back and sides, and not long and Italianate, but a
clean-looking mop which linked them together in a collective image,
was a real innovation. Later in the decade, the Beatles switched to the
hippy, long-haired image. The essence here is that a great deal of atten-
tion was concentrated on their appearance. A particular 'look' taken
after some famous and beautiful female had long been known; but the
idea of a male, Beatle look was relatively new. It testifies to the way in
which masculine appearance was now becoming almost as relevant a
consideration as feminine appearance. Pop groups of all types, travelling
around the country and from country to country, often attracting enor-
mous audiences, and also appearing on television, offered standards of
male appearance with which the large number of watching females
could compare the boys known to them.
It was actually in Portugal that the footballer George Best, born in the
 THE S W I N G I N G S I X T I E S 2O/

slums of Belfast, was christened the 'Footballing Beatle'. But many of the
assessments of him in England saw him in exactly that way, as a hand-
some, sexy mass entertainer, with a particular appeal for youth, and
above all female youth. In a reference to Pele, the incredibly brilliant but
far from beautiful Brazilian star who dominated the footballing scene in
these years, Best remarked: 'If I'd been born ugly you would never have
heard of Pele. I don't mean that women weakened me or anything like
that, I simply mean that without them I might have concentrated more
on the game and therefore lasted longer in the game'.32 Here Best is, as
it were, presenting himself as the young Lloyd George of football, so
attractive to women as to be running the risk of being distracted from
his main task in hand. Shortly he was to become the Duke of Mon-
mouth or Marquis de Cinq-Mars of his profession: his career collapsed
into disgrace and ignominy as he succumbed to drink, womanising, and
illusions as to his invincibility. However, though he ceased to be a foot-
baller, he remained something of a celebrity. In that he made a
substantial, though by twenty-first century standards modest, income
from merchandising and commercial endorsements, he was the fore-
runner of the multi-million pound footballing celebrities of forty years
later. The point again is the association between success, or, more accu-
rately in this case, the combination of celebrity and notoriety, and good
looks. Best would not have become the only true pop superstar of foot-
ball in that remote era without 'it', that inextricably bonded package of
looks and sexuality.
One other sportsman of the sixties commands attention. The black
American Cassius Clay was one of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all
time, remarkably lithe and agile. He was also witty and voluble. He
became an activist on behalf of the Black Muslim movement, taking the
name Muhammad Ali. He said of himself that he was 'the greatest', and
proved it over and over again; he also said, and this is the critical issue
here, that he was 'the prettiest'.33 This was also true. Muhammad Ali was
yet another example of much publicised male celebrity and male beauty
appearing as two sides of the same coin. The consequence was to put a
premium on male good looks. Most men did not have the looks of Ter-
ence Stamp, David Bailey, George Best or Muhammad Ali, and almost
none had their talent; but, as opportunities expanded in all the ramifi-
cations of advertising, pop culture and public relations, those who did
208 IT

have the appearance of a Poitier or a Connery, a Presley or a Caine stood

in line for at least modest advancement.
The honesty and clarity fostered by the Cultural Revolution, the
recognition of the bare realities of beauty, and of the lack of it, were
symbolised in the 1972 film The Way We Were, which may fruitfully be
compared with Marty. Movie star Robert Redford was a top box-office
attraction, universally recognised as the epitome of one type of male
beauty (there is a cross-reference to him as the ultimate in masculine
desirability in another film, Alice Doesn't Live Here Any More). Barbra
Streisand had a wondrous singing voice but less than harmonious fea-
tures, including a too-prominent nose. Her first great Broadway success
Funny Girl (which became an Academy Award-winning film) opened
with the chorus singing, 'If a Girl Isn't Pretty'; in one of her song hits
she lamented 'Nobody Makes a Pass at Me'. No longer was it an unas-
sailable convention that a successful female star must also be beautiful.
In The Way We Were, Hubble Gardner (Redford) is a smooth, conser-
vative, all-American college boy; Katie Morasky (Streisand) is at the
same college in the 19305, President of the Young Communist League, a
pacifist, and anti-Fascist activist. Hubble is an oarsman and athlete, and
always has a gorgeous coed on his arm; Katie persuades a large gather-
ing of students to take the Peace Pledge. She tells him that he is
'decadent and disgusting', yet the film pointedly shows us that she finds
it difficult to take her eyes off him. He is the model of the White Anglo-
Saxon Protestant, always smiling, to whom everything comes easily (at
college he sells a short story, and shortly afterwards a novel; he is invited
to Hollywood); she is Jewish, intense and serious, ill at ease in the social
world of the conservative rich. Unlike Clara in Marty, she is no passive
wallflower; and, of course, unlike Betsy Blair, Streisand looks the part.
She gets a job as an assistant radio producer (the opening sequence
of the film), goes to a nightclub, and sees him there, now a Second
World War sailor, drunkenly asleep. A flashback establishes the back-
ground points about their college days; then, in the next sequence, she
takes him home and, as the phrase might be, were the sexes reversed,
'takes advantage of him'. An edgy, difficult, though obviously deeply felt
relationship begins. On one occasion when they are apart she phones
him at night and begs him to come over to her, promising in a charac-
teristic sixties-and-after role reversal, 'not to touch him'. There follows
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 2O9

an absolutely central passage of dialogue. 'It's because I'm not attractive

enough, isn't it?' He does not reply to this, and after a pause she con-
tinues: 'I'm not fishing ... I know I'm attractive ... sort of ...' There's
a further pause. Tin not attractive ... I'm not attractive in the right
way ... am I?' He still makes no response. 'I don't have the right style
for you ... do I?' Still no response and she adds: 'You're my friend'. Now
he comes in. 'No ... you don't have the right style'. Til change', she
responds. Then, moments later: 'Why can't I have you?' He says noth-
ing about looks, but responds: 'Because you push too hard.' He adds,
'You expect too much.' To this she replies, 'But look what I've got', and
it is clear that by this she means such a beautiful sex object as him. They
marry and live together for a time in the Hollywood of the McCarthy
era. They separate and then, in the final sequence of the film, bump into
each other again some years later in New York, where she is now a Ban
the Bomb activist. He is with a beautiful woman; she is no longer
straightening her hair.
Films apart, evidence of the critical change in the way personal
appearance was being recorded and evaluated is to be found in three
main areas: the empirical studies carried out by university psychology
and sociology departments; the guides to grooming which flourished
still more than ever before; and the worlds of business and political life.
The academic orthodoxy of the 19508 was that embodied in Erving
Goffman's 'matching hypothesis', that is that in contemplating marriage
a plain person will choose another plain person, a slightly more attrac-
tive person a slightly more attractive person, and so on; in other words,
that, in marriage choices, levels of attractiveness will exactly match.34 A
massive challenge to this comforting fairy tale was mounted through an
experiment whose results were published in 1966 as 'Importance of
physical attractiveness in dating behavior'.35 The experiment sounds fun
for those who organised it; it was obviously fun for some of the subjects
and presumably quite painful for others. College freshmen (and
women) were invited to buy tickets for what was billed as a 'computer
dance', that is a dance where they would be paired with an ideal part-
ner selected by computer. In fact the students were secretly rated in
advance on personality, intelligence and social skill, and then also, as
they purchased their tickets, on physical attractiveness. The students
were then paired on a random basis, save that great pains were taken to
210 IT

avoid the solecism of having a short man dancing with a tall woman.
Half way through the dance the students filled in questionnaires relat-
ing to how much the subject liked his or her partner and whether he or
she would like to continue the relationship. Follow-up interviews four
to six months later established whether or not the relationships had
indeed been continued. The conclusion was clear: the only apparent
determinant of how much each student liked his or her partner, how
much he or she wanted to see the partner again, and how often they did
in fact see each other, was how physically attractive the partner was. The
more physically attractive the partner, the more he or she was liked.36
Attempts to find additional factors which might possibly predict
attraction were not successful; for example, students with exceptional
social skills and intelligence levels were not liked any better than those
with lower levels. Nevertheless, the correlation between physical attrac-
tiveness and liking was not perfect: a perfect correlation would be
represented by the figure i; in fact it came at .78 for men and .69 for
women. The most judicious summing-up would be that, in the partic-
ular conditions of this experiment, physical attractiveness quite clearly
was the key element for both men and women, but in slightly lesser
degree (of the order 9 per cent) for women than for men. A critical
point about the 'computer dance' experiment was that the subjects were
not constrained by the pressures and inhibitions of real life and so could
reveal their inmost inclinations. Subsequent researchers stressed that the
computer dance situation minimised, or indeed practically obliterated,
the risks of rejection - those who by chance secured partners more
attractive than themselves were 'assured not only of social contact, but
of the fruits of social courtesy norms for the duration of the dance'.37 In
addition, 'those who had achieved their ideal goal of a physically attrac-
tive partner may have shown more interest in retaining it than they
might have shown in trying to attain it initially'.38 Two experiments
were conducted to see whether the matching principle might reassert
itself if the individual were required actively to choose a partner, rather
than simply respond to one already laid on, and to discover what the
effects would be if the possibility of rejection by a desirable partner were
emphasised. The conclusion was still that physically attractive partners
were markedly preferred by everyone, women as much as men, but that
within this general trend it was apparent that men and women of lesser
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 211

attractiveness did tend to choose less attractive partners than did the
highly attractive students.39 Further experiments confirmed that men
generally preferred to date the most physically attractive women, but
that this was most pronounced when they were assured of acceptance;
subjects who were not thus guaranteed believed that the highly phys-
ically attractive women would be significantly less likely to want to date
them than would be the moderately attractive or the unattractive
women.40 In the cold, calculating prose of social psychology:
As in any bargaining situation the participants in the dating game have to
learn the range of outcomes available to them. Being turned down or
never asked for a date is embarrassing and frustrating, and the less attrac-
tive individuals, in order to avoid further frustration, possibly learn to stop
trying for the most desirable and unavailable dates.41

A third type of experiment examined people who were already com-

mitted to genuine real-life relationships, engaged or going steady. Here
it was found that people of relatively similar levels of attractiveness did
indeed tend to associate with each other, with such other factors as atti-
tude similarity and role compatibility coming fully into play. In the icy
jargon:
The results indicate that physical attractiveness, both as subjectively ex-
perienced and objectively measured, operates in accordance with
exchange-market rules. Individuals with equal market value for physical
attractiveness are more likely to associate in an intimate relationship such
as premarital engagement than individuals with disparate values.42

It is not unknown for academics to misunderstand or misrepresent

their own results. The group who had conducted the original, brilliant
computer dance experiment now came up with a claim which had the
right touch of politically correct cynicism, 'What is beautiful is good'.43
Sixty students, thirty males and thirty females, had been asked to predict
the personality and life chances of persons represented to them in pho-
tographs. The researchers had prepared twelve sets of three pictures, half
of women of different levels of physical attractiveness, half of men of
different levels of physical attractiveness. Half of the mixed group were
given female photographs to respond to, half male photographs; that is
to say, some of the subjects were rating people of the opposite sex, some
people of their own sex. The subjects were told that the purpose of the
212 IT

study was to compare their ability, as untrained college students, to

make accurate predictions, compared with that of trained graduates. The
experiment unambiguously showed that both male and female students,
regardless of whether they were responding to male or female photo-
graphs, assumed that physically attractive persons possessed more
socially desirable personalities than unattractive ones, and predicted that
their lives would be happier and more successful in both the social and
professional sphere. This, of course, was entirely a matter of perceptions;
and the students perceived the beautiful to be, not 'good\ but as socially
acceptable and likely to be successful in all aspects of life. That is the
modern view: beauty has market, not moral, value. A person can be very
beautiful and very bad; and a person can be very good and very ugly.
Some studies simply concentrated on the long-held suspicion that, in
a male-dominated world, beautiful female students were likely to have
advantages over less beautiful ones. An investigation of the sixties indi-
cated that even in large classes where it was very difficult for the
instructor to know students individually, beautiful girls tended to get
the benefit of the doubt in the grading of papers, and suggested that this
was because their names and faces stuck in the minds of instructors. In
a more systematic experiment, reported in 1974, male college students
were given either a notably well written essay or a notably badly written
one to evaluate, both supposedly written by female students: one third
of the essays of both types had a photo of an attractive girl attached to
it, as the alleged author of the essay, one third had no photo, and one
third had the photograph of an unattractive girl attached.
The subjects who read the good essay evaluated the writer and her work
more favourably than the subjects who read the poor essay. The subjects
also evaluated the writer and her work most favourably when she was
attractive, least when she was unattractive and intermediate when her
appearance was unknown. The impact of the writer's attractiveness on the
evaluation of her and her work was most pronounced when the 'objective'
quality of her work was relatively poor.44
Real academic quality, irrespective of looks, was recognised; but down
at the bottom of the scale, where the essay was in fact rather bad, beau-
tiful girls got compensation, while others did not. In all of these
academic exercises two features stood out. First they were based on the
premise that everyone involved can make, and will accept, distinctions
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 213

between the beautiful (the Very attractive') and the lesser levels of
attractiveness (that is, the modern conception of beauty in the eyes of
all beholders). Secondly, beauty, in a cool and dispassionate way far
removed from the heated confusions of traditional discourse, is clearly
recognised as a characteristic in itself possessed of high value.
In 'beauty' or, rather, grooming guides, the great change of the sixties
is that all traces of agonising and moralising disappeared. Their writers
simply plunged straight in, taking it for granted that for a woman (to
stick with them for a moment) nothing is more natural and sensible than
having a preoccupation with her own personal appearance. Some go as
far as to insist - rightly, in the light of the other developments we have
been discussing - that a good personal appearance is essential for social
and business success; others lay as much emphasis on the notion that
making-up or dressing up is fun, the sort of fun every woman will
instinctively want to indulge in. Much is made of the relationship
between a good appearance and sexiness; sex is in itself a good thing,
fun like making-up, and the relationship between sex and personal
appearance is openly acknowledged.45 Great stress is placed on health
and fitness, dieting and slimming, not in order to achieve an artificial
appearance but in order to give natural qualities the best opportunity of
shining through. A greater variety than ever before of cosmetics and
other aids to beauty was now available, generally marketed with greater
restraint, accuracy and supporting information.46 There is some recog-
nition of the limits of what can be achieved by artifice, with such
qualities as 'poise', 'personality' and 'charm', which can be achieved by
skill and effort, recognised as not being quite the same as natural beauty
(though, as a generic term in magazines and guides, 'beauty' still signifies
self-presentation, grooming, make-up and fashion).47 Cosmetic surgery
is now just beginning to come seriously into the reckoning.48 Brutal
though it is to say it, this involved honest (though not necessarily
desirable) acceptance that beauty, far from being a matter of surface
tweaking, plucking and painting, is a matter of bone structure and dis-
tribution of flesh. Slim legs and neat bottoms have always been thought
desirable, but, since for most centuries these were scarcely on view, not
a great deal of attention was given to them. Sixties styles did focus atten-
tion on beautiful legs and girlish posteriors, and therefore, of course, on
their opposites; hence, in particular, treatment for the condition which
214 IT

French medical cosmeticians defined as 'cellulite', though other medical

men denied its existence.49
The tonnage of 'beauty' materials aimed at women continued to out-
weigh by far that aimed at men, yet the cultural revolution did bring
significant changes, most obvious in the grooming and fashion articles
and guides specifically aimed at men. Two major aspects of a man's life,
it is argued, require him to pay great attention to his personal appear-
ance: his sexual, and his business and professional activities.50 A man's
appeal, according to one French manual, no longer depends solely upon
his intellectual, financial and social attributes. A man conscious that he
has made the most of his appearance, it continues, who is relaxed and
lively, in good health and attractive, will easily triumph over one who is
tired, fat or has obvious physical flaws;51 if he is confident in his own
appearance he will open many doors and many hearts.52
We have noted the occupations where beauty could stand a male in
good stead. By the sixties, service itself was no longer a major source of
employment (though servants with the right appearance were more
highly prized than ever by those who could afford them), but service
trades were expanding in all directions. The most obvious new occupa-
tion was that of male model - Catherine Harle's agency in Paris started
taking on male models in 195/;53 more critically, the whole pop, fashion,
media, agenting, entrepreneurial, public relations world was pervaded
by an atmosphere which put a premium on good appearance. Formerly
the Chief of Protocol at the White House had tended to be a venerable
type, strong on stuffiness, skilled in diplomacy: the new thirty-six-year-
old incumbent of 1965, together with his good-looking wife, formed an
attractive team, looking, Life reported, 'like the former college prom
queen and football captain at a five-year class reunion'.54 Even in the
orthodox business world appearance was counting for more and more,
a summary of the situation as it existed at the end of the decade being
set out in an elaborate French textbook Professional Success, which drew
mainly on American experience:
For very many years, in business, little value was accorded to self-
presentation, demeanour and appearance in general. However, modern
companies have completely revised their outlook on this point and
they attach growing importance to the physical appearance of their
executives.55
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 215

No doubt being personable was more crucial than being truly beautiful;
but at the same time special opportunities were opening up for the latter.
Obviously there were very many jobs where other qualities were more
vital than good looks, and very many ill-favoured men continued to
hold positions of power and responsibility. Job opportunities, many of
them not specially dependent on a beautiful appearance, were contin-
uing to expand for women. But it was very clear that, even more
exclusively than with men, the service, media and public relations posts
demanded beauty: two areas of employment which, as feminist atti-
tudes strengthened through the seventies, drew hostile comment for
their evident assumption that only beautiful women need apply were
those of television presenters - Barbara Walters, the USA's most famous
female presenter had briefly been a model - and 'air hostesses' (as the
term was in the sixties). For a woman to achieve a senior position any-
where outside of traditional female professions (such as hospital care),
and a position of real power anywhere, was still most unusual. What
part looks played in the careers of the few who did single themselves
out is a subject awaiting further research. I simply note that the two
leading women in the British Labour government of 1964-70, Jennie
Lee and Barbara Castle, the Labour member of parliament who became
the first female Speaker of the House of Commons (Betty Boothroyd),
and the first woman University Dean (at Brest in 1968) in France, and
subsequently, in 1976, Minister for Universities, Alice Saunier-Seite,
were all reputed considerable beauties in their day. Barbara Castle was
distinctly ill at ease in company, a dreadful handicap in a politician,
but it seems that it was the confidence her good looks gave her which
enabled her to ride this out: 'Her appearance was her carapace, her
defence against a world in which she did not feel quite comfortable',
in the brilliant perception of her biographer, Anne Perkins. Betty
Boothoyd, briefly a show dancer, and pretty rather than beautiful, was
affable and full of bounce, but had to suffer repeated election defeats
before finally making it to the Commons: I suspect that her tough-
skinned perseverance owed much to her confidence in her looks.56
The general conclusion, backed by the recent research in social psy-
chology, discussed in chapters i and 10, is that the trend towards the
high rating of beauty in both men and women (a kind of rough equal-
ity, at least, between the sexes) was eventually stronger than the original
216 IT

feminist hostility to women being judged on their looks (harder to

maintain when men also were being judged in this way). Few voices
were raised on behalf of ugly men; there were still plenty of them
around - as is evident as we finally focus again on American presi-
dential politics.
When, in the late summer of 1959, it appeared that John F. Kennedy
might beat Hubert Humphrey for the Democratic presidential nomina-
tion, the attention of the media, in the traditional way, was focused
entirely on Kennedy's beautiful wife, Jackie.57 As it happened, Kennedy's
rival, like many politicians before and since, was no impressive example
of male pulchritude. As historian W. L. O'Neill wrote of Humphrey a
decade later, when the days of discreet silence about the harsh facts of
personal appearance were truly over: 'He was overweight, and with his
big balding dome, square little chin, and rat-trap mouth offered a rather
comic appearance'.58 Kennedy's youthful good looks were at the time
thought by the professionals to be a disadvantage, signifying nothing
other than inexperience.59 Only with the first televised encounter
between Kennedy and the Republican presidential candidate, Richard
M. Nixon, did the notion of the special appeal of good looks begin to be
canvassed60 (Nixon may fairly be described as 'unprepossessing'). Yet,
even at the time of the new President's first visit to Canada most of the
attention remained on the beauty of the presidential consort; however,
a Canadian spectator was reported as saying of Kennedy 'He's just a liv-
ing doll!'61 Kennedy's victory, and his frequent, and energetic
appearances thereafter in the public eye helped to ratify the association,
to which the other trends we have noted were favourable, between
beauty and success, and Kennedy himself, more particularly after his
assassination, became a metaphor for that success.
In May 1965 Life put on its cover John Lindsay, the Republican
aspirant to the mayorship of New York. The article inside declared:
With youthful verve and the long-legged grace of a heron, John Vliet Lind-
say, six foot three inches tall, strode into the race for Mayor of New York
and Republicans all over the country broke into ear-to-ear smiles ...
Lindsay is 43 years old and possesses enormous personal charm ...
Women surround him quickly. Their eyes light up and they try to prolong
his handshake, a reaction that inevitably reminds many of Jack Kennedy's
campaign days.62
 THE SWINGING SIXTIES 217

Within less than a year, the spotlight was on a candidate, also Republi-
can, for the governorship of California:
The speaker stands tall on the rostrum ... Across the twenty feet that sep-
arate the dais from the first row of tables he looks almost twenty years
younger than the fifty four he is ... His face is tanned, his smile daz-
zling ... He looks strong and youthful and vigorous. He has that new,
clean, young look in American politics - the charisma of a John
F. Kennedy, a John Lindsay .. ,63

The candidate was the former actor and television presenter, Ronald
Reagan.
Reagan was shortly to win the governorship against the Democratic
incumbent Edmund G. Brown, leaving Brown to complain bitterly
about 'two-dimensional polities', 'packaged polities' and the evil infl-
uences of television: in doing so he pinned down that in his appearance
(supported by his voice) Reagan had an asset of great value:
For two-dimensional politics, Reagan ... is blessed with surface features
that are immediately appealing: a resonant voice with a tone of natural
sincerity and just the right touch of boyishness, a hairline as unmoving as
the Maginot Line, and a ruggedly handsome face that is neither unusual
enough to jar the viewer nor so deeply wrinkled that it can't be smoothed
out with make-up. He will be sixty - the same age as Humphrey - but
most Californians would probably guess, on the basis of appearance, that
he is ten to fifteen years younger .. ,64

The association of Reagan with Kennedy many seem odd, perhaps even
offensive. But Kennedy, here, is simply a metaphor for beauty as an
autonomous characteristic which, independent of political philosophies,
has political value. It may be undesirable that looks should have this
value; or it may in fact be an advantage that looks be honestly scruti-
nised, as a prelude to separating them out from more worthwhile
qualities such as integrity or wisdom. Commercialism, misrepresenta-
tion, two-dimensional politics and the meretricious packaging of just
about everything were inescapable facets of sixties society. Yet there was
an admirable honesty, too, in facing up more squarely than ever before
to the facts of natural physical endowment (which, by definition, is not
packaged). To medieval man deformity or disability was a sign of evil;
in more recent centuries they were matters to be politely ignored. It was,
218 IT

in fact, at the very end of the sixties that governments instituted the
policies that have resulted in special, and quite explicitly advertised,
facilities for the disabled.65
 10

A Gift from the Genes

Little, shy, ten-year-old Fanny Price comes to stay at luxurious Man-

sfield Park as a much put-upon poor relation. Years later, while her
uncle, Sir Thomas Bertram, is on an extended visit to his plantations in
Antigua, she blossoms into a very pretty young woman; on his return
Sir Thomas is captivated by Fanny's looks. His son Edmund, with whom
she is secretly in love, has always been kind to her, but has never been
given to paying her compliments. If she wants these, he tells her, she
must go to her uncle, warning her that these will be 'chiefly on your per-
son'; she £must put up with it, and trust to his seeing as much beauty of
mind in time'. Fanny and Edmund are two of Jane Austen's most vir-
tuous characters, and both esteem 'beauty of mind' above 'beauty of
person'. The point is that Austen never confuses the two; she was,
indeed, alive at all times to the power of personal appearance, as against
moral or mental qualities. In the same novel lames Rushworth is lured
by Maria Bertram's beauty into his disastrous marriage with her;
Edmund himself is so besotted with Mary Crawford's beauty that he
has been pursuing her instead of recognising the devotedness of Fanny
(quietly pretty, perhaps, rather than stunningly beautiful). Viewers of
the BBC's famous production of Pride and Prejudice may have wondered
how on earth the calm and scholarly Mr Bennett came to marry the vul-
gar and foolish Mrs Bennett; it's simple - she was, Jane Austen tells us
in the novel, very beautiful when young. Three of the four Bennett
daughters are very attractive; Austen is completely ruthless in making it
clear that not only is Mary, the odd one out, plain, she doesn't have any
'beauties of mind' either: she is silly, pedantic and boring, and has an
embarrassingly awful singing voice.1 My concern is not with fictional
characters, but with how, in creating them, certain novelists express
profound truths about the realities of physical beauty. As is well known,
22O IT

Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens is about selfishness and

hypocrisy. It is also, unannounced, a story of how those who are beau-
tiful do well compared with those who are not. The happy couples are
Martin ( c a good-looking youth') and Mary, John and Ruth. Angelic, but
funny-looking, Tom Pinch (cone of those strange creatures who never
decline into an ancient appearance but look their oldest when they are
very young') is left on the shelf,2 as is plain, sour-faced Charity Peck-
sniff, for whom is reserved the special humiliation of being left deserted
at the altar, in favour of her lovely sister, Mercy. We do not hear what
happens to Mercy, but since her power over men is made abundantly
clear, we may suspect that, with her evil husband conveniently dead, she
went on to find a nicer man.
We noted the suggestions of Nancy C. Baker and Wendy Steiner that
beauty should be defined in 'a more human sense', to include concern
for others, intelligence, enthusiasm, humour, self-confidence and being
worthy of love. And indeed there is an everyday tendency to run
together 'beauty of the person' and 'beauty of the mind', so that some-
one can be described as beautiful without in fact being physically very
attractive. This is a very understandable and, indeed, a very human ten-
dency. But if, as a novelist, you are describing human society as it really
is, or, as a historian, you are trying to pin down the value human beauty
has in different eras, it is a very unhelpful one. If you are to compute
the power or the value of beauty, you have to be absolutely clear what
it is, and what it is not. Beauty, defined rigorously, is what Baker her-
self, in The Beauty Trap, recognises as having an independent existence,
using the words 'gorgeous face and figure'; beauty is not an omnibus
word mopping up everything complimentary we can find to say about
a person; if one wants to call someone intelligent, generous, dynamic,
humorous, one should praise each of these qualities by name, but not
confuse them with 'beauty', used in the vague, blanket way of that much
abused epithet, 'nice'. The problem, of course, is that, such is the desire
of almost everyone to be thought sexually attractive, people prefer to be
described as beautiful - the power and value of beauty is so universally
recognised that we all like to lay claim to a piece of it, despite, with most
of us, there being no validity in the claim.
Anyway, in setting out, as no one else has ever done, to assess the
influence on life chances and life opportunities of personal appearance,
 AGIFTFROMTHEGENES 221

as distinct from high status, great wealth, a good education, the psyche
of a Rothschild or a Napoleon, education, or the gift of the gab, I was
obliged to be rigorous in my definition of beauty. What I have shown is
that beauty has always attracted special attention, and, if carefully man-
aged, can bring fame and fortune. It can also bring tragedy; men, at the
highest level, often being less adroit than women in exploiting their
looks. The one safe generalisation is that exceptional beauty will always
bring exceptional outcomes. However, throughout most of the past the
power of beauty was overlayed by that of status and that of wealth, by
fear of the lust which accompanied it, and by both the hard realities of,
and the romanticised conventions about, the separate roles of men and
women. When I embarked on my researches, using letters, diaries and
memoirs, moral tracts and guides to fashion and beautification, as well
as biographies, I accepted the conventional wisdom that standards of
beauty vary from age to age, still paraded today in a galaxy of coffee-
table books, in feminist treatises, in The Oxford Companion to the Body,
and by such politically correct worthies as Professor Richard Evans.3 It
was only after doing the work, analysing the evidence, and sorting out
my conclusions on paper, that I came to see that, relative to what does
change significantly in human affairs - ideologies and institutions, eco-
nomic and social organisation, and, say, the respective roles of men and
women - beauty hardly changes at all, in the western societies I was
studying, at any rate. According to Evans this conclusion is cin the face
of a mass of historical evidence'. That is simply not true — I have
searched out the evidence, he has not. The 'evidence' handed down
from one conventional work to another and, rather lamentably, appear-
ing in The Oxford Companion to the Body is simply the familiar
hackneyed old stuff about African tribes admiring fatness, South Amer-
ican ones lip plates, Burmese ones necks stretched and ringed like a
snake (actually confusing standards of beauty with symbols of wealth
and status), about sixteenth-century beauties having high foreheads
(confusing beauty with fashion), and (of course!) about the voluptuous
flesh paraded in the paintings of Rubens (in chapter i I cast doubt on
Rubens as, or even setting out to be, an arbiter of early seventeenth-
century taste in women, and, throughout, I have argued that just
reading off from paintings and fashion plates, without consulting the
full range of written sources, is shoddy scholarship).
222 IT

My conclusion about beauty being a relative constant and a relative

universal (though - this is most important - in many varieties) is sup-
ported by the latest social psychology research.41 am agnostic over the
extreme Darwinian theorising and have reservations about some of the
individual experiments in which photographs (of, let it be clear, a mix
of Caucasians, Orientals, Africans, etc., etc.) are commented on by
students (drawn from a similar ethnic mix). Taken together, however,
they do strongly indicate that whatever our ethnic background we share
the same preferences in picking out the truly beautiful - who come, to
repeat, in many types, many ethnicities.5 Psychologist Nancy C. Etcoff
sums up with true scientific caution: 'the assumption that beauty is an
arbitrary cultural convention may simply not be true'.6 My historical
researches (always open, of course, to challenge from further such
research) suggest that it is very definitely not true. There is one other
consideration: songs, sagas, poems speak to us directly across the cen-
turies of the power and fascination of human beauty. Is it really
believable that all that passion, all that joy, all that despair was lavished
on what was merely a cultural construct? When it comes to people today
sharing, whatever their culture or ethnicity, the same perceptions of
beauty, it might be argued that common standards are imposed by ubi-
quitous western-dominated television. I've already recognised the
significance of television, and of film before that, in bringing beautiful
faces and bodies within the ken of the masses whose acquaintanceship
with beauty had previously been severely circumscribed: the effect, how-
ever, was not to impose narrow standards, but to familiarise mass
audiences with the plurality of beauty. We now know which faces,
among a great range of ethnic types, people, themselves from a range of
ethnic types, find beautiful: television, seeking always to appeal to larger
and larger audiences, and, alas, to sell often disreputable products,
responds by displaying the faces people want to see; it does not impose
them.
Fashion, and the way it changes, is a fascinating topic. But changes in
fashion, despite the morass of unexamined assumptions to the contrary,
are not the same thing as changes in beauty. A beautiful woman or a
beautiful man out of fashion will look a little odd, but will still be beau-
tiful, will still arouse sexual interest; an ugly person in the height of
fashion will still be ugly, and probably hard put to find a choice sexual
 A G I F T F R O M THE GENES 223

partner. Personally I regard both make-up and fashion as perfectly legit-

imate facets of human existence, but in this book my interest is confined
to what they reveal about attitudes towards (not standards o f ) beauty,
and, in particular, about possible differences between the sexes. Though
fully aware of it, I have no interest in the continuing (and now rather
dated) postmodernist fashion for study of 'The Body' and the way,
allegedly, 'that we perceive our bodies through a culturally constructed
body image that shapes what we see and experience'.7 Recent feminist
writing, however, no longer representing make-up and fashion as part
of male oppression, is illuminating in explaining how women use them
to 'express who they are', and are 'active, creative and skillful, experi-
encing pleasure and competence in elaborating the self'.8 It is a fact of
contemporary life, from which deductions may or may not be drawn,
that women, in the mass, spend more time on make-up and fashion
than men do. Female make-up emphasises the eyes and the lips, both of
which in women take up a bigger proportion of the face than they do
in men; any trace of facial hair is strictly taboo. Large numbers of men
dye their hair and many use creams and lotions to fight off ageing; there
is increasing deployment of dry shavers in shaping the beard into orna-
mental bits and pieces (very restrained, however, compared with the
whiskery opulence of the Victorian era).
Possibly there is support here for the claim that what women perceive
as beauty in men coincides with an apparent fitness for carrying out
'male' tasks, while what men perceive as beauty in women coincides
with an apparent suitability for fulfilling 'female' roles.9 But if beauty is
unchanging, 'tasks' and 'roles' certainly are not: quite manifestly there
are beautiful women athletes, beautiful women soldiers, certainly beau-
tiful women company directors and beautiful women footballers,
though it can be noted that while male tennis champions are often (not
always) beautiful male specimens, female champions are infrequently
beautiful women — back in the 19205, Suzanne Lenglen, being young,
female, French, and a slim symbol of the flapper age, was a media sen-
sation, but she wasn't in fact specially good-looking.10 Then there is
some evidence that, while men always rate good looks in women as the
quality they most desire, women are more flexible, more discriminating
in being prepared to give weight to mental and moral qualities.11 His-
torically, as I have stressed throughout the book, women were
224 IT

particularly limited in their choices, and had to find men who would be
'protectors' and principal breadwinners, with only the exceptionally
powerful, like Catherine the Great, going for young and beautiful bed-
mates. The historical evidence demonstrates that as they have achieved
greater economic and social freedom women have tended more and
more to judge men as men have always judged women - that is on
looks.
Placed on the silver screen, Scarlett O'Hara had to be beautiful and
Vivien Leigh, we noted, certainly was that. Yet the opening words of
Margaret Mitchell's novel actually were: 'Scarlett O'Hara was not beau-
tiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm ...'12 What
a gloriously encouraging start for thousands of readers, aware that they
too were not beautiful! It is the age-old reassurance in the power, not
just of cosmetics and dress sense, not just of'beauty of mind', but, above
all, of 'charm', of what used to known as 'feminine wiles'. It's all of a
piece with the nonsense we have encountered once or twice about
famously sexy women being 'not conventionally beautiful', or possessed
of 'that indefinable quality sex appeal', about Harriette Wilson not being
beautiful but able 'to persuade men that she was'. In most cases the
women referred to actually were beautiful - for those able to see beyond
the artificial and often snobbish dogma of their day. Men can be lured
by qualities other than sheer beauty, and, in desperate straits, by simple
availability, but they are not such fools as to see beauty where it does not
exist. One can understand women, working so hard on their own
appearance and sex appeal, wanting to believe in their appeal and, still
more, in their own cunning. Here we have another myth which is fad-
ing away under the searching lights of modern society, where women
needn't waste their cunning on men, but can direct it to furthering their
careers, and where no film or television producer would commission a
less than beautiful Scarlett O'Hara, nor trust men (the millions in the
audience) confronted with a less than beautiful actress 'not to realise it'.
So we return to the central theme of this book: the way in which, out
of the old ambivalences and confusions about beauty, there emerged a
modern attitude, a modern evaluation, in which the hallowed myths are
ripped away, and in which beauty, in men as well as women, is recog-
nised as an independent personal characteristic whose value rivals that
conferred, traditionally, by status, or wealth, or, more recently, by
 A G I F T F R O M THE GENES 225

education, or by some other marketable talent, in, say, music, or story-

telling, or property development, or stock manipulation, or, to come
bang up to date, football. Within the bedroom, beauty is the greatest
aphrodisiac there is, a fact understood by the masses outside, for whom
it is possessed of enormous vicarious sex appeal, which explains why it
can command such high prices. Throughout most of history, women
could only exploit their beauty through providing powerful men with
sexual services; now that there are mass audiences, masses of customers
and clients, all paying to enjoy sex appeal at a distance, provision of such
services is no longer the essential precondition of success. This is a broad
historical truth: in no way am I so silly as to claim that the casting
couch, or its equivalent for, say, the young political researcher with
major political ambitions, or the young executive with her eye on the
boardroom, has totally disappeared. Nor am I going to deny the boom
in an ever more imaginative and diversified sex industry, involving, say,
female (carefully shaven) lap-dancers, male strippers frantically striving
to hold up their erections, male prostitutes on home visits, whose vital
statistics can be ascertained in advance, 'cut or uncut'. Of one 19608 sex
worker we learn that he had cthe two necessary attributes that led him
into male prostitution: good looks and an extraordinary physical
endowment'.13 But, on the whole, as women have rightly claimed the
sexual freedoms which men formerly reserved for themselves, sexual
activity, even within, as it were, the workplace, has become more of a
lifestyle choice rather than a career obligation.
In western societies today the overwhelming majority enjoy moder-
ate prosperity, or at least television sets and sound systems for playing
pop music. They provide the basis upon which has grown a structure of
sponsorships, icons, celebrities, bestsellerdom, blockbusterdom, high-
rating television shows, public relations and spin, multi-ethnic
purchasers, international audiences, popularity polls on almost every-
thing, from new talent to old books. Grafted onto, and partially
replacing, the old class system, is a new breed of super-rich, mostly
drawing their vast incomes from the interconnected entertainment,
fashion, communications, sport and service business. The opportunities
to seize fame and fortune are considerable; so, commensurately, are
the possibilities of failure and disappointment. Much is superficial,
on the surface, as in the deference shown in the academic world to the
226 IT

self-promoting French darlings of intellectual fashion and, in the wider

world, to the icons of pop and football. Beauty, as I have insisted
throughout this book, is only skin deep, is only a surface characteristic.
Where image is all-important, natural beauty is a specially valuable
component - it comes without extra cost, and it is the human quality
with the most powerful, the most immediate supercharge, being the
instant visual aphrodisiac. All the more so where complete sexual free-
dom is effectively an organic law (within the sanctions imposed by
death-dealing sexually transmitted diseases). As extreme feminist theory
breaks down where pleasure rather than power is manifestly the male
objective, extreme Darwinism breaks down where copulation, not pro-
creation, is clearly the primal urge; and, indeed, where overeating, which
now - whatever may have been the case with primitive man - has only
terrible evolutionary consequences and is a major contemporary prob-
lem; and what about smoking, drinking and drug-taking - pleasurable,
but surely not demanded by our genes? Let me make myself absolutely
clear: beauty is most certainly a matter of basic genetic inheritance - a
few have it, most don't. We all (most of us anyway), given a free run,
seek out beauty (in others), respond priapically to it - that is certainly
a basic instinct, but whether it has evolutionary benefits as distinct from
— like drugs — providing short-term gratification, I am less sure (and, so
what? - economy of explanation is what all historians, and all scientists,
should go for).
The lure of fundamentalist belief systems (which probably once did
have an evolutionary pay-off in ensuring the solidarity of the group) is
still strong among human beings, as in Islam, oriental religions, the
more exotic brands of Christianity, Marxism and postmodernism, but a
key characteristic of the contemporary world is the dissolution of tradi-
tional beliefs, of old conventions and orthodoxies; many of the new
faiths, indeed, are characterised by the way, however misguidedly, they
challenge traditional thinking - radical feminism and radical post-
modernism, for instance. Abroad in the world, very much as a
consequence of the Cultural Revolution of the Long Sixties, there is an
honesty, a frankness, a willingness to look at things as they are, despite
PR, despite spin; there is never a perfect society, and historical trends,
both desirable and undesirable, never go entirely in the same direction.
All of the trends itemised in this paragraph have combined to confirm
 A G I F T F R O M THE G E N E S 22/

the modern evaluation of beauty, of beauty as nothing but itself, a phys-

ical, biological quality. 'Know thyself, is an age-old injunction. People
today are more likely than ever before to know the truth about them-
selves, that they are not beautiful (never a completely cheering thought
- but not the end of the world), and that the small minority that they
clearly can see are beautiful are not specially good, not specially wicked,
not specially stupid,14 just bloody lucky. It is noteworthy that on televi-
sion chat shows or when expressing themselves through interactive
TV, women consistently state that their aspiration is to be 'sexy' (though
to be beautiful is inevitably to be sexy, one can be sexy without being
beautiful).
That, in a range of ordinary employment, there is, for men as much
as women, a financial advantage to being good-looking, and a disad-
vantage to being plain or ugly, was established by empirical studies
carried out in the 19905, with the way being led by the two American
National Bureau of Economic Research Working Papers, 'Beauty and
the Labor Market' and 'The Economic Reality of the Beauty Myth' (both
1993)) with the authors of the former following up with an article of the
same title in the American Economic Review (1994). (The 'reality' of the
'Beauty Myth' was that, being realisable in hard cash, it was no myth,
and certainly not invented by men, as Naomi Wolf had claimed; not a
myth but, no doubt, deeply unfair, as life tends to be.) A decade of fur-
ther work was summarised in a short article in the Economist, 'Pots of
Promise', 24 May 2003. Earlier research had suggested that good looks
tended to have beneficial results in terms of promotion for military
cadets at West Point and that in business management tall males
scooped the best salaries.15
Veronica Franco, Nell Gwyn, Madame Du Barry, Lady Hamilton -
their successes were celebrated within very restricted circles; the Grandes
Horizontales - they led their lavish lives outside mainstream society;
beautiful men did sometimes do well out of their looks, but before
Byron no man was openly recognised as owing part of his celebrity to his
beauty, and Byron remained a unique figure. Rudolph Valentino and
some of the Hollywood stars, male and female, came close to the con-
temporary position where mass appeal, celebrity and beauty are inextri-
cably intertwined. Movies remained the essential vehicle, until joined by
pop music (which, in an unprecedented way, became inescapably woven
228 IT

into contemporary culture, featuring, for example, in the most high-

brow TV quizzes as well as the most low-brow), modelling and celebrity
soccer. Among the transitional figures are Presley, McCartney, Shrimp-
ton, Twiggy and Best; among their successors are Robbie Williams, Brit-
ney Spears, Kylie Minogue, Victoria Beckham (pop singers), Naomi
Campbell, Kate Moss, Nick Kamen, Travis Fimmel (models), David
Beckham (footballer), with a whole gallery of gorgeous film celebrities,
Richard Gere, Brad Pitt, Jude Law, Ewan McGregor, Julia Roberts,
Helena Bonham-Carter (the one 'maturely attractive', the other with, in
sharp contrast, a 'babyish face'),16 Catherine Zeta-Jones (old-fashioned
seductress). Among the most striking facets of the way these celebrities
are presented is the attention paid to their natural endowments, with the
males being treated in a manner which had once been reserved for
females. Nudity, or semi-nudity, has maximum impact, and maximum
commercial value, when displayed in conjunction with a beautiful face.
Perfect shape, perfect lovely face, and fundamental physical attributes
were vital to actress Liz Hurley posing without visible means of support
in her notorious minimalist 'safety-pin dress' styled by celebrity designer
Gianni Versace, to Shila Tennant modelling the Chanel micro-bikini,
and to 'Wonderbra girls', Eva Hertzigova and her successor Caprice
Boulet;17 David Beckham's transfer to Real Madrid was accompanied by
a medical examination which allowed for a public airing of his pectorals
(clearly heterosexual, he is also known as a 'gay icon'); gorgeous male
supermodel Travis Fimmel filled his Calvin Klein briefs with manifest
abundance,18 while in the film Boogie Nights (1997), the actor Marc
Wahlberg displayed a truly prodigious penis.
Only slightly less up-front were the polls to establish 'the sexiest man
on earth' or 'the men women would most like to marry'; in one of the
former run by women's magazine Cosmopolitan, Ewan McGregor, who
had been seen full-frontally in the film Trainspotting, and who was
sometimes known, suggestively, as 'Big Mac', came third, behind actors
George Clooney and Keanu Reeves; in one of the latter McGregor came
first ahead of actor Colin Firth and Clooney.19 David Beckham was
another regular number one in sexiest man polls. I make absolutely
no hostile judgements here; indeed I celebrate the new openness and
sense of equality of treatment between the sexes; furthermore I
enthusiastically recognise the brilliance in their profession of all the
 A G I F T F R O M THE G E N E S 229

actors mentioned here. Equally, the irreducible basis of the fame of

David Beckham is the talent he has displayed as a footballer, with Man-
chester United, with England, with Real Madrid. But then, without the
looks he could not have become a fashion icon; and as a fashion icon
he changed his hair style and his dress as frequently as any female
celebrity had been wont to do (and also - crucial differences will always
remain - the arrangement of his facial hair). The male selling sex in the
manner traditionally associated with the female was featured in the
Richard Gere film American Gigolo, and, most obviously, in Boogie
Nights. In Bridget Jones's Diary the two gorgeous characters are the
men, played by Colin Firth and Hugh Grant - while Renee Zellweger, as
Bridget, had to deliberately put on weight to play the less than beautiful
Bridget, for whose delectation the two beauties disport themselves.
I have no wish to exaggerate the importance of beauty — if success
only came to the beautiful, the world would quickly grind to a halt,
there not being enough beautiful people to do all the things that need
to be done. Politics, manifestly - one just has to look around, does not
depend on pulchritude; and pop music is so omnipresent, so central to
contemporary life, that those with talent, but no great beauty, can be
successful. The outstanding example is mega-celebrity Madonna, a large
part of whose appeal to girls was her demonstration that a woman could
be bold, sexually predatory and immensely successful without being
beautiful. In December 2003 the British Pop Idol competition (again
conducted by popular poll - the winner being awarded a lucrative
recording contract) was won by Michelle McManus; in commenting on
her victory Michelle referred to adverse comments which had been
made on her 'weight', and expressed the hope that she was opening the
way for 'bigger girls' also to be judged entirely on the quality of their
voices.20 If a magnificent voice is what is wanted, then those with mag-
nificent voices should be recognised, whatever their looks - as indeed
some always have been even in the contemporary era. ('Whenever I First
Saw Your Face', was a ravishing number by Roberta Flack, but when-
ever one first saw her face it was very far from ravishing.) If beauty is
what is wanted (and, in the domain where fashion, looks and celebrity
are inextricably intertwined and success depends on mass visual appeal,
it is what is wanted), then fat is not beautiful, never has been and, I sus-
pect, never will be. Most of us don't have ravishing voices, as most of us
230 IT

are not (to resort to the two jocular but symbolic examples) rocket sci-
entists or brain surgeons. Those with special gifts are lucky and should
do their best with them; there is no point those of us who are not beau-
tiful complaining that those who are earn rewards that are not open to
us. Attacks on the slender, enticing, human appearance are as common,
and often as banal, as attacks on bottled mineral water. Young girls and
women starving themselves into illness and death is a tragedy and we
should do our best to prevent it - but not by pretending that every
shape and every configuration is beautiful in its own way. Young girls
and women desperately seeking a career in modelling when they simply
don't have the attributes for it is another tragedy, and what is needed is
more honesty and less comforting (for a time) illusion. The growing
emphasis on exercise and on healthy eating is one of the more desirable
customs of today, with 'feeling good' being conjoined to 'looking
good'. Overeating is far more prevalent than anorexia, and nearly as
dangerous. Salivate over the lovelies (male and female) on display all
around; by all means strive to look as nearly like them as possible^ but,
as indeed most people in their moderately sensible and moderately con-
tented way, do, bear the 'nearly' (yet also, 'so far!') and the 'as possible'
firmly in mind. Cosmetic surgery, as everyone knows, is now mega busi-
ness. It has its uses and its abuses. I confine myself to repeating that its
prevalence confirms the perception that beauty is purely a physical mat-
ter, whose absence can only be remedied, if at all, by drastic physical
methods.
It is partly because we retain the power of rational thought that we
are in no danger of kalocracy - political rule by the beautiful. Let us
recall the fundamental facts: politicians do have to submit themselves
for approval to mass electorates; but to get into that position they have
to have been selected and approved by party bosses, bureaucrats, PR
men and spin doctors. Two rather contradictory aspects of the modern
evaluation of beauty then come into play. We know that good looks do
have a definite immediate appeal for the general public,21 and we do
know that that appeal is more than ever convertible into votes in an age
when television takes the politician into every household; the party
bosses and PR men know this as well (image consultants, of course,
being employed to remedy what nature forgot). At the same time it is
part of the modern evaluation that beauty is not mistaken for what it
 AGIFTFROMTHEGENES 231

is not: intelligence, decency, integrity. Pushed to it we are just about able

to recognise that a politician can be dishy and deeply deceitful. And ulti-
mately in politics, competence is the quality which counts. The point is
that a good appearance (including, in a man, height), short of evidence
to the contrary, does initially suggest competence and inspire con-
fidence. Good looks serve to enhance certain perceived personal
qualities, ill-looks will often overemphasise perceived weaknesses. How-
ever distrusted eventually by large sections of his own electorate,
President Bill Clinton in America came over as a friendly, all-smiling,
decent, considerate, unpretentious guy, an impression greatly strength-
ened by his outstanding, ail-American, boyish, good looks. Something
of the same is true of British Prime Minister Tony Blair, whose looks are
sweet rather than saturnine, who seems straightforward and human in
television chat shows, and who is genuinely gracious to all, including
political opponents.22
In projecting oneself as a nice guy, looks are an enormous help. On
the other hand the two discarded men of recent British politics, Labour
leader Neil Kinnock and Conservative leader William Hague, both had
in personal appearance a touch of Hubert Humphrey, which served to
compound their political miscalculations and irritating mannerisms.23
What is different about today is the way in which personal appearance
is openly discussed and recognised as a factor which should enter all cal-
culations. One obvious victim of this was former Labour cabinet
minister, Robin Cook: his resemblance to a garden gnome being widely
commented on and cited as one reason for his not being a likely prime
ministerial candidate.24 Is California home of the future or of the fruit-
cake? After Ronald Reagan (who, it may be noted, won the California
Mr Atlas Body Beautiful competition in 1941), former body-builder,
then film star, Arnold Schwarzenegger.25 The body (and face) beautiful,
have always had their fascination: that fascination is more explicit, and
less concealed in moralistic mumbo-jumbo than ever before. Ordinary
life goes on. What most people, polls indicate, look for in long-term
relationships is not beauty but 'kindness'.26 We are more open and more
helpful in our treatment of the disabled than we used to be. But the dis-
advantaged, as well as the plain and the ugly, do suffer more than they
should.27 Some people speak of'body fascism' and 'beauty fascism', and
perhaps will apply that label to this book. 'Fascism' is a word which is
232 IT

as easy to abuse, as the truth is difficult to face. My faith is in facing up

to the truth, as indeed certain novelists and critics continue to try to do,
excellent examples being provided by the study, Plain and Ugly Janes:
The Rise of the Ugly Woman in Contemporary American Fiction (New
York, 2000), by Charlotte M. Wright.28
Let's face it. Say you're watching a programme like University Chal-
lenge - aren't you disappointed if among the drab-looking swots and
wrinkled older students there isn't at least one bright (and beautiful)
young thing? Say you're watching a television drama and congratulating
it for its integrity in presenting leading characters who aren't any better
looking than you or I - don't you begin to regret that there isn't just
one smasher to lift your spirits and maybe initiate the tiniest fantasy?
What a drag these Sunday supplements are - only just redeemed, don't
you agree, by page after page of stylish lovelies of both sexes with which
to titillate your libido? Whether that is so or not, I hope this book has
held your attention, and made you think about your most cherished,
most comforting beliefs. For the last time: the beautiful minority have
always attracted special attention, though beauty could not compete
with status and wealth, and was suspect for engendering lewdness.
Today beauty, in men as well as women, has established itself as pos-
sessing high independent value. Compared with institutions, ideologies,
economic and social systems, which undergo massive changes from age
to age and culture to culture, it is relatively constant, relatively univer-
sal, but, as we increasingly appreciate as we shed old shibboleths and
conventions, it comes in many varieties. It is a gift, like the gifts of musi-
cianship, mathematical skill or kindness, so rare and prized that in
ancient Rome (where standards of beauty were similar to our own, as
we know from Roman paintings, notably those in the Vatican), the poet
Ovid called it 'a gift from the gods'. In our secular, scientific age, we
know it to be a gift from the genes.
 Notes

Notes to Chapter i: Fascination

1. Keats to Fanny Brawne, 8 July 1819, The Letters of John Keats, ed. Hyder
Edward Rollins (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1958), i, p. 403.
2. See in particular Harold Perkin, The Rise of Professional Society: England,
1870-1950 (London, 1982).
3. Arthur Marwick, Beauty in History: Society, Politics and Personal Appear-
ance, c. 1500 to the Present (London, 1988).
4. J. H. Lupton (ed.), The Utopia of Sir Thomas More: in Latin from the Edi-
tion of March 1818, and in English from the first Edition of Ralph Robynson's
Translation in 1551 (Oxford, 1895), ii, pp. 225-27, 232.
5. H. T. Finck, Romantic Love and Personal Beauty (New York, 1887), ii,
pp. 187, 374-75-
6. Marcel Braunschvig, La femme et la beaute (Paris, 1919), p. 135. Much the
same view is expressed by Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, ii (Oxford,
i977)> P- 44-
7. Simone de Beauvoir, Le Deuxieme Sexe (Paris, 1947), ii, p. 345.
8. J. O. Thompson (ed.), Dr Salter of Tolleshunt D'Arcy: Diary and Reminis-
cences, 1849-1932 (London, 1933), 29 December 1859.
9. Lois W. Banner, American Beauty (New York, 1983; Chicago, 1984), p. 269.
10. Joanna Pitman, On Blondes (London, 2003).
11. Anton Chekhov, Uncle Vanya (1899), Act 3.
12. Sonnet i: 'From fairest creatures we desire increase, / That thereby
Beauty's rose might never die ...'
13. Elaine Scarry, On Beauty and Being Just (Princeton, New Jersey, 1999),
p. 52.
14. Ibid., p. 4.
15. Stendhal (Henri Beyle), De Vamour (Paris, 1822; 1853 edn), pp. 33-34.
16. Voltaire, Dictionnaire philosophique portatif(\j6^), cBeau, beaute5, p. 47.
17. Georges Bataille, Death and Sexuality: A Study of Eroticism and the Taboo
(New York, 1957), pp. 142-43.
234 N O T E S TO P A G E S 12-27

18. Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex (Lon-
don, 1871; revised and augmented edition, New York, 1879), pp. 573-87.
19. Marcel Braunschvig, La femme et la beaute (Paris, 1919), p. 221; Emile
Bayard, Vart de reconnaitre: la beaute du corps humain (Paris, 1926), p. 10;
Bernard Bosanquet, 'The Aesthetic Theory of Ugliness', Proceedings of the
Aristotelian Society, i, no. 3 (1891), p. 36.
20. My arguments are to be found in my The New Nature of History: Know-
ledge, Evidence, Language (Basingstoke, 2001).
21. See Keith Roberts, Rubens (London, 1977), p. 3; and Marwick, Beauty,
pp. 53-58.
22. Peter Paul Rubens, Theorie de la figure humaine, consideree dans ses
principes, soit en repos ou en mouvement, ouvrage traduit du Latin de Pierre-
Paul Rubens (Paris, 1773), pp. i, 9.
23. Ibid., pp. 14-15.
24. Ibid., pp. 49-50.
25. Rubens to Pierre Dupuy, 15 July 1526, The Letters of Peter Paul Rubens,
translated and edited by Ruth Saunders Magurn (Cambridge, Massachu-
setts, 1955), p. 136.
26. See Christopher White, Rubens and his World (London, 1962), p. 101.
27. Roberts, Rubens, p. 3.
28. Ibid., p. 4
29. Economist, 24 May 2003.
30. National Bureau of Economic Research, Beauty and the Labor Market,
working paper no. 4518 (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1993), abstract.
31. Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth: How Images of Beauty are Used Against
Women (New York, 1992), pp. 2-4.
32. Ellen Zetzel Lambert, The Face of Love: Feminism and the Beauty Question
(Boston, 1995), p. xi.
33. Wendy Steiner, The Problem with Beauty (London, 2001), p. 217.
34. Nancy C. Baker, The Beauty Trap: How Every Woman Can Free Herself
from It (New York, 1984), p. 9.
35. Elaine Hatfield and Susan Sprecher, Mirror, Mirror: The Importance of
Looks in Everyday Life (Albany, New York, 1986), pp. 303-6.
36. Ibid., p. 307.

Notes to Chapter 2: Plato, Augustine and Mrs Astell

1. Charles Perron, Les Franc-Comtois: leur caractere national leur moeurs,
leur usages (Besan^on, 1892), p. 85.
2. See, generally, Anthony Andrewes, Greek Society (London, 1971);
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 28-36 235

K. J. Dover, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle

(London, 1974).
3. Plato, Greater Hippias, 28/e. Throughout I use the accepted method of
citation, common to all editions and translations. My English versions (I
do not read Greek) are drawn from The Dialogues of Plato Translated by
Benjamin Jowett (Oxford, 1871; 4th edition, revised, 1964), and J. S. Blackie,
On Beauty: Three Discourses ... with an Exposition of the Doctrine of the
Beautiful According to Plato (Edinburgh, 1858) - more the latter than the
former.
4. Greater Hippias, 2890, 295C.
5. Phaedras, 25ode, 25ia.
6. K. J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality (London, 1978), pp. 12-13, 161 n. 11.
7. Plato, Symposium, 210, 211, 2i2a.
8. Plato, Charmides, i54de, issde.
9. Dover, Greek Homosexuality, p. 115.
10. See the exhibits and supporting text in the Roman section of the Museum
of London.
11. Saint Augustine, Confessions, iii, p. 16. Generally my references are to
the Encyclopaedia Britannica translation, Saint Augustine, The Confes-
sions; The City of God; On Christian Doctrine (Chicago, 1952, 1990),
with occasional resort to other translations, e.g., The City of God
Against the Pagans, edited and translated by R. W. Dyson (Cambridge,
1998); otherwise my references are taken from Carol Harrison, Beauty
and Revelation in the the Thought of Saint Augustine (Oxford, 1992),
and Kim Power, Veiled Desire: Augustine's Writing on Women (London,
1995).
12. Confessions, v, p. 30.
13. Ibid.
14. Saint Augustine, De vera religione, p. 3.
15. Ibid.
16. The City of God, xiv, p. 447.
17. Ibid., pp. 447-48.
18. Saint Augustine, Contra Academicus, ii, p. 6.
19. The City of God, xv, p. 22.
20. Walter C. Curry, The Middle English Ideal of Personal Beauty (Baltimore,
1916), p. 3.
21. Ibid., pp. 4-5.
22. Ibid., p. 3.
23. Cited in Georges Duby, Le chevalier, la femme et le pretre: le manage dans
la France feodale (Paris, 1981), p. 18.
236 N O T E S TO P A G E S 36-43

24. E. Rodocanachi, La femme italienne a Vepoque de la Renaissance (Paris,

1907), p- 90.
25. Curry, Middle English Ideal, p. 7.
26. Ibid., p. 26.
27. 'Certayne Rewles of Phisnomy', from British Library, MS Sloan 213, fos
n8v-i2iv, reprinted by M. A. Nanzakaoui, Secretum Secretorum: Nine Eng-
lish Versions, Early English Text Society (Oxford, 1977), i, pp. 10-17.
28. Curry, Middle English Ideal, p. 5.
29. In the Museo Correr, Venice, reproduced in Marwick, Beauty, p. 69.
30. Giovanni Marinelli, Gli ornamenti delle donne: tratti delle scritture d'una
reina greca (Venice, 1562), p. iii.
31. Ibid., p. iii.
32. Trois livres de Tembellissement et ornament du corps humain pris du latin de
M. lean Liebaut docteur medecin a Paris (Paris, 1582), pp. 316-18; Marinelli,
Gli ornamenti, iv, part 2.
33. Trois Livres, p. 318.
34. Ibid., p. 357.
35. Ibid., p. 432.
36. Gabriel de Minut, De la beaute, discours divers ... voulans signifier, que ce
qui est naturellement beau, est aussi naturellement bon (Paris, 1587),
pp. 210-12.
37. David de Flurance Rivault, Art d'embellir (Paris, 1608), i, fos 2-3.
38. Minut, De la beaute, p. 214.
39. Ibid., p. 213.
40. Ibid., pp. 255ff.
41. Ibid., pp. 261-62.
42. Ibid., p. 270.
43. Quoted in Jefferson Butler Fletcher, The Relations of Beauty in Women and
Other Essays on Platonic Love in Poetry and Society (New York, 1911), p. 3.
44. A. G. Dickens, The Age of Humanism and Reformation (Englewood Cliffs,
New Jersey, 1972), p. 125.
45. The original edition // libro de cortegiano del conte Baldesar Castiglione
(Venice, 1528) has no folio or page numbers, and this is also true of The
Book of the Courtier: From the Italian of Count Baldessare Castiglione Done
into English by Sir Thomas Hoby (London, 1561). My page references there-
fore are to the 1900 reprinting of the latter. I have some quibbles with
George Bull, The Book of the Courtier: Baldesar Castiglione (London, 1977).
46. The Courtier, pp. 343, 348, 349.
47. Introduction, by Theodore Child, to the abbreviated English translation of
Agnolo Firenzuola, Dialogue on the Beauty of Women (London, 1892).
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 43-52 237

48. Niccolo Franco, Dialogo dove si ragiona delle bellezze (Venice, 1542);
Lodovico Domenichi, La nobilta delle donne (Venice, 1549); Federigo
Luigini, // libro delta bella donna (Venice, 1554; English translation, 1909);
Niccolo Campani, Bellezze della donna (Venice, 1566).
49. CI ritratti di Giovan Giorgio Trissino', in Tutti le opere di Giovan Giorgio
Trissino, ii (Verona, 1729), pp. 269-77.
50. Agnolo Firenzuola, 'Dialogo delle bellezze delle donne', in Prose di
M.Agnolo Firenzuola Fiorentino (Florence, 1540), fol. 75.
51. Castiglione, The Courtier, p. 216.
52. Firenzuola, Dialogo, fos 67-71.
53. Ibid., fol. 74.
54. Niccolo Franco, Dialogo delle bellezze, fol. 23.
55. Ibid., fol. 43.
56. Domenichi, La nobilta, fol. 24.
57. Firenzuola, Dialogo, fol. 63.
58. Ibid., fol. 62.
59. Jean de La Bruyere, Les caracteres de Threophaste traduits du grec: avecs les
caracteres et les moeurs de ce siecle (Paris, 1688), p. 134.
60. Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act I, Scene 3.
61. Discussed further in Chapter 3
62. Rodocanachi, La femme italienne a Vepoque de la Renaissance, p. 103.
63. Henry Fielding, History of Tom Jones (London, 1749), i, chapter 12.
64. Mary Astell, Some Reflections on Marriage (London, 1700), pp. 10,13,18,19,
21.

Notes to Chapter 3: Kings and Concubines

1. Georges Montgredien, Marion de Lome et ses amours (Paris, 1940), p. 186;

Marie Dormoy, La Vraie Marion de Lome (Paris, 1934), p. 25.
2. Alison Weir, The Six Wives of Henry VIII (London, 1991), p. 152.
3. Antonia Fraser, The Six Wives of Henry VIII (London, 1992), p. 94.
4. Quoted in Weir, Six Wives, p. 497. In general see The Love Letters of Henry
VIII: Edited with an Introduction and Comments by Henry Savage (London,
1949).
5. See reproductions and comments in David Starkey, Elizabeth: Apprentice-
ship (London, 1992), pp. 31, 35, 67-68.
6. Weir, Six Wives, p. 82.
7. David Starkey, Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII (London, 2003),
pp. 263, 564; Weir, Six Wives, pp. 151-52; Fraser, Six Wives, pp. 150-51.
8. Fraser, Six Wives, p. 268; Weir, Six Wives, p. 274.
238 N O T E S T O P A G E S 53~62

9. Starkey, Wives, pp. 618-36.

10. Starkey, Wives, pp. 639-44. On Anne's appearance I tend to follow Mary
Saaler, Anne ofCleves: Fourth Wife of Henry VIII (London, 1995).
11. Reproduced by Starkey, Six Wives, between pp. 564 and 565.
12. Starkey, Six Wives, pp. 711-59.
13. Souvenirs et correspondance de Madame de Caylus (annotated edition, Paris
1881), passim; Henri Carre, Mademoiselle de la Valliere (Paris, 1938) and
Madame de Montespan (Paris, 1939); Pierre Gaxotte, La France de Louis
XIV (Paris, 1974), chapter 5; Lucy Norton, The Sun King and his Loves
(London, 1972).
14. All of these paintings are reproduced in Gaxotte, Louis XIV.
15. Carre, Montespan, pp. 21, 24.
16. Carree, La Valliere, p. 45.
17. Journal dy Olivier Lefevre d'Ormesson, ii, 1661-1672 (Paris, 1861), p. 422,
entry for Wednesday 27 January 1666; p. 603, entry for Wednesday 14
December 1670.
18. G. Braux, Louise de la Valliere de sa Touraine natale au Carmel de Paris
(Chambray-les-Tours, 1981), p. 52.
19. Portraits are reproduced in Gaxotte, Louis XIV, and Norton, Sun King.
20. Souvenirs de Madame de Caylus, p. 27.
21. Reresby and Boyer respectively, quoted in Brian Masters, The Mistresses of
Charles II (London, 1979), p. 53.
22. The Diary of Samuel Pepys, edited by Robert Latham and William Math-
ews, 11 vols (London, 1970-83), iii, p. 175 (23 August 1662); iv, p. 63 (i
March 1662); vi, p. 191 (16 August 1665); iii, p. 139 (16 July 1662).
23. Masters, Mistresses, p. 51.
24. Quoted in Masters, Mistresses, p. 10.
25. R. B. Beckett, Lely (London, 1951), pp. 14-17, esp pp. 19 and 23.
26. Memoirs of the Life of Eleanour Gwinn (London, 1752); Dictionary of
National Biography, xxiii (1890), pp. 401-3.
27. DNB (1890), p. 403.
28. Quoted in J. P. Kenyon, The Stuarts (London, 1958; 1966 paperback edn),
p. 51. In general see Roger Lockyer, Buckingham (London, 1981).
29. Philippe Erlanger, Le mignon du roi (Paris, 1967), p. 51. My account is
based mainly on this book.
30. Madame D ... [D'Aulnoy], Memoires de la cour d'Angleterre (Paris, 1695),
i, pp. 3-6; ii, pp. 225-27.
31. Useful accounts are W. MacDonald Wigfield, The Monmouth Rebellion
(Bradford-on-Avon, 1980); Robin Clifton, The Last Popular Rebellion
(London, 1984).
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 62-/2 239

32. Bryan Bevan, Marlborough the Man (London, 1975), p. 15.

33. I reproduce a substantial paragraph in Beauty in History, p. 116; in general
see Due de Castries, La Pompadour (Paris, 1983), Jean Nicolle, Madame de
Pompadour et la societe de son temps (Paris, 1980).
34. Pidonsat de Maurobat, Anecdotes sur Madame la Comtesse Dubarre (Ams-
terdam, 1776), p. 22. In her excellent Madame du Barry: The Wages of
Beauty (London, 1991), Joan Haslip reproduces, from private collections,
four ravishing portraits of Du Barry.
35. Cited by Jacques Levron, Madame Du Barry: ou la fin d'une courtisane
(Paris, 1961, 1974), p. 31.
36. For example, The History of the Intrigues and Gallantries of Christina,
Queen of Sweden and of her Court, whilst she was at Rome. Faithfully Ren-
derW into English from the French Original (London, 1697).
37. Clearly demonstrated in the Bernini sculpture in the National Museum,
Stockholm.
38. Georgina Masson, Queen Christina (London, 1968), p. 321.
39. My account is based on Robert Coughlan, Elizabeth and Catherine (Lon-
don, 1974); Joan Haslip, Catherine the Great (London, 1977); The Memoirs
of Catherine the Great (London, 1955), ed. Dominique Maroger, translated
by Moira Budberg, with an introduction by G. P. Gooch.
40. Memoirs of Catherine the Great, pp. 60, 70.
41. Ibid., p. 200.
42. Ibid., p. 215.
43. Memoires secrets et inedits de Stanislas Auguste, Compte Poniatowski
(Leipzig, 1862), p. 7.
44. Haslip, Catherine the Great, p. 273.

Notes to Chapter 4: Something Handsome and Cheap

1. Brian Bevan, Nell Gwyn (London, 1969), p. 22.
2. Margaret F. Rosenthal, The Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citizen and
Writer in Sixteenth-Century Venice (Chicago, 1992), p. 6. In general see
Dacia Mairini, Veronica Franco: Courtesan and Poet, translated by J. Dou-
glas Campbell and Leonard G. Sbrocchi (New York, 2001). For an English
traveller's first-hand account of Venice at the time, see Coryat's Crudities.
Reprinted from the Edition of 1611 (London, 1776), ii, esp. pp. 38-50.
3. Rosenthal, The Honest Courtesan, p. 55. I have used RosenthaFs transla-
tion, anglifying her Americanism, cass'.
4. Marie Dormoy, La vraie Marion de Lome (Paris, 1934); Georges Montgre-
dien, Marion de Lome et ses amours (Paris, 1940); Emile Magne, Ninon de
240 N O T E S TO P A G E S 73~/9

Lanclos: edition definitive (Paris, 1948); Francoise Hamel, Notre dame des
amours: Ninon de Lenclos (Paris, 1998).
5. Simone de Beauvoir, Le Deuxieme Sexe (Paris, 1948), ii, p. 345.
6. Tallement de Reaux, Historiettes (1662; published Paris, 1854), ii, p. 34.
7. Janet Aldis, Madame Geoffrin: Her Salon and her Times, 1750-1777 (1905),
esp. pp. 3-17. A portrait by Nattier shows her, at thirty-eight, an agreeable-
looking woman. In the famous and powerful Chardin she is a severely
plain old lady.
8. Lettres de Mile de Lespinasse precedees d'une notice de Sainte-Beuve et suiv-
ies des autres ecrits de Vauteur et des principaux documents qui le concernent
(Paris 1893), P- 393- In general see Due de Castries, Julie de Lespinasse: Le
drame d'un double amour (Paris, 1985).
9. Camilla Jebb, A Star of the Salons: Julie de Lespinasse (London, 1908),
p. 212.
10. Lettres de Mile de Lespinasse, p. 405.
11. John Christopher Herold, Mistress to an Age: A Life of Madame de Stael
(New York, 1958); Ghislain de Diesback, Madame de Stael (Paris, 1983).
12. Herold, Mistress to an Age, p. 51.
13. Comtesse Jean de Plauge, Monsieur de Stael (Paris, 1932), pp. 40, 41.
14. Irving Wallace, The Nymphs and Other Maniacs (New York, 1971), p. 67.
15. My account is based on those of Due de Castries, Madame Recamier
(Paris, 1985), and Francoise Wagener, Madame Recamier, 1777-1849 (Paris,
1986).
16. Castries, Madame Recamier, p. 331.
17. J. Steven Watson, The Reign of George III, 1/60-1815 (Oxford, 1960), p. 271
n. i.
18. Amanda Foreman, Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire (London, 1998), esp.
pp. 3, 80-81; Brian Masters, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire (London,
1981), p. 34; DNB, ix (1887), p. 348; Hugh Stokes, The Devonshire Home Cir-
cle (London, 1917), pp. 73-76.
19. Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay (Fanny Burney) (London, 1891), iii,
p. 369 (20 August 1791); Letters of David Garrick, ed. D. M. Little and
G. M. Kahrl (London, 1963), p. 1035. For a survey of great and (sometimes)
lovely ladies in eighteenth-century Britain see Rosemary Baird, Mistress of
the House: Great Ladies and Grand Houses, 1670-1830 (London, 2003).
20. Katie Hickman, Courtesans (London, 2003), p. 151, an excellent book, par-
ticularly relevant to my chapter 6; Frances Wilson, The Courtesan's
Revenge: Harriette Wilson, the Woman who Blackmailed the King (London,
2003); Valerie Grosvenor Myer, Harriette Wilson: Lady of Pleasure (Had-
denham, Cambridgeshire, 2003).
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 79-85 24!

21. Jean-Pierre Gutton, Domestiques et serviteurs dans la France de Fancien

regime (Paris, 1981), pp. 73, 164.
22. Merlin Waterson, The Servants Hall: A Domestic History of Erddig (Lon-
don, 1980), p. 170.
23. Cissie Fairchilds, Domestic Enemies: Servants and their Masters in Old
Regime France (Baltimore 1984), pp. 91-92.
24. Fairchilds, Domestic Enemies, p. 91
25. Sarah C. Maza, Servants and Masters in Eighteenth-Century France (Prince-
ton, 1983), pp. 35-36.
26. Henry Fielding, CA Journey from this World to the Next', Miscellanies, ii
(i743)> P- 48.
27. Quoted by Flora Fraser, Beloved Emma: The Life of Emma, Lady Hamilton
(London, 1986), p. 57.
28. Waterson, The Servants' Hall, p. 170.
29. Pamela Horn, The Rise and Fall of the Victorian Servant (Dublin, 1975),
p. 84.
30. Donald E. Sutherland, Americans and their Servants: Domestic Service in the
United States from 1800 to 1920 (Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 1981), p. 42.
31. See Gordon Grimmet in Rosina Harrison (ed.), Gentlemen s Gentlemen
(London, 1976), p. 33-
32. George Washington, in Harrison, Gentlemen s Gentlemen, p. 176. See Anne
Martin-Fugier, La place des bonnes: la domesticite feminine a Paris en 1900
(Paris, 1979).
33. Edward Ward, The London Spy: The Vanities and Vices of the Town
Exposed to View (London, 1703), cited by Alison Adburgham, Shoppping in
Style (London, 1979), pp. 14-21.
34. Pepys, Diary, v, p. 264 (6 September 1664).
35. James Peller Malcolm, Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London
during the Eighteenth Century (London, 1808), p. 133.
36. Lois W. Banner, American Beauty (Chicago, 1984), pp. 32-33.
37. Louis Fissner Journals, 14 April 1854, Stanford University Libraries Special
Collections, M89.
38. Henry Mayhew, The Shops and Companies of London (London, 1865),
p. 86.
39. Reproduced in Marwick Beauty, p. 246.
40. John Bird Thomas, Shop Boy: An Autobiography (London, 1920), p. 163.
41. Pick-me-up, i December 1888, reproduced in Adburgham, Shopping, p. 169.
42. Bevan, Nell Gwyn, p. 22.
43. Pepys, Diary, vi, p. 73 (3 April 1665); viii, p. 193 (i May 1667), p. 463 (5
October 1667), p. 91 (2 March 1667).
242 N O T E S TO P A G E S 85-93

44. Henriot, Portraits, pp. 63ff.

45. Quoted by Henriot, Portraits, p. 65.
46. Macklin and Richard Cumberland respectively, quoted in Carola Oman,
David Garrick (London, 1958), pp. 25, 93.
47. Oman, David Garrick, p. 330.
48. The Life of Mrs Abington (formerly Miss Barton) Celebrated Comic
Actress ...by the Editor of the 'Life ofQuin' (London, 1888), p. 6.
49. CA modern writer', quoted in Life of Mrs Abington.
50. Life of Mrs Abington, p. 32.
51. Ibid., p. 37.
52. Thomas Davies, Memoirs of the Life of David Garrick (London, 1780), i,
p. 188; ii, pp. 169, 171.
53. Quoted in The Testimony of Truth to Exalted Memory: or A Biographical
Sketch of the Right Honourable the Countess of Derby in Refutation of a False
and Scandalous Libel (London, 1797), p. 23; see also Suzanne Bloxham,
Walpole's Queen of Comedy: Elizabeth Farren, Countess of Derby (London,
1988).
54. Quoted by Roger Manvell, Sarah Siddons: Portrait of an Actress (London,
197°)> P- 23- In general see Robyn Asleson (ed.), A Passion for Performance:
Sarah Siddons and her Portraitists (Los Angeles, 1999).
55. Sebastien Mercier, Tableau de Paris (Paris, 1781), ii, pp. 7, 11.
56. Antonia Fraser, The Weaker Vessel: Women's Lot in Seventeenth-Century
England (London, 1984), p. 410.
57. Harris's List of Covent Garden Ladies (London, 1793), p. 24.
58. Covent Garden Ladies, p. 35.
59. Ibid., p. 25.
60. Ranger's Impartial List of the Ladies of Pleasure in Edinburgh (Edinburgh,
1775) (Miss Fraser, Miss Cobb).
61. Covent Garden Ladies, pp. 93.
62. Covent Garden Ladies, pp. 31, 40; Ranger's Impartial List (Miss Nairn, Mrs
Dingwall, Miss Smith).
63. Fraser, Weaker Vessel, p. 413.
64. Covent Garden Ladies, p. 25.
65. Roy Porter English Society in the Eighteenth Century (London, 1982), p. 282.
66. Quoted Porter, English Society in the Eighteenth Century, p. 280.
67. Quoted Derek Parker, Casanova (Stroud, 2002), p. 240; see also,
J. Rives Childs, Casanova: A New Perspective (London, 1989); Giacomo
Casanova, History of My Life, translated W. R. Trask, 6 vols (London,
1967-72).
68. Pat Rogers, An Introduction to Pope (London, 1975), p. 2.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 93~1O1 243

69. Ralph M. Wardle, Oliver Goldsmith (Lawrence, Kansas, 1957), pp. 12-13,
20-21, 70-7i> 90-9i> 184-85, 292-93.
70. Lisa Jardine, The Curious Life of Robert Hook (London, 2003).

Notes to Chapter 5: Getting Married

1. Quoted in R. B. Outhwaite (ed.), Marriage and Society: Studies in the Social
History of Marriage (London, 1981), p. 10. A collection of seventeenth-cen-
tury letters in which attitudes to marriage and wealth, status and beauty
emerge most distinctly is Barrington Family Letters, 1628-1632, edited for
the Royal Historical Society by Arthur Searle, Camden Fourth Series, 28
(London, 1983).
2. Quoted in Outhwaite, Marriage and Society, p. 10.
3. Roger Thompson, Women in Stuart England and America (London, 1974),
p. 117.
4. Kathleen M. Davies, 'Continuity and Change in Literary Advice on Mar-
riage', in Outhwaite, Marriage and Society, pp. 55-80; Lawrence Stone, The
Familyy Sex and Marriage in England, 1500-1800 (London, 1977), p. 188.
5. Mary Astell, Some Reflections on Marriage (London, 1700), pp. 10,13,18, 21.
6. Peter Borsay, 'The English Urban Renaissance: The Development of
Provincial Urban Culture, c. 1680-1760', Social History (May 1977), p. 595.
7. Henry Fielding, History of Tom Jones (London, 1749), book i, chapter 12.
8. Henry Fielding, 'To a Friend on Choosing a Wife', in Miscellanies, i (Lon-
don, 1743), pp. 27ff.
9. Edward Shorter, The Making of the Modern Family (New York, 1976),
p. 144-
10. Charles Perron, Les Franc-Comtois: leur caractere national leur meoursy
leurs usages (Besan9on, 1892), p. 85.
11. Olwen Hufton, 'Women, Work and Marriage in Eighteenth-Century
France', in Outhwaite, Marriage and Society, pp. 198-99.
12. Mary Hallock to Helena de Kay, undated (1869), Mary Hallock Foote
Papers, Stanford University Libraries Special Collections and University
Archives, Mii5, box i, letter 7.
13. Mary Hallock to Helena de Kay Gilder, undated (1870?), Mary Hallock
Foote Papers, box i, letter 14.
14. Mary Hallock to Helena de Kay Gilder, 7 December 1876, box 8, letter 130.
15. The Journal of Katherine Mansfield, ed. J. Middleton Murry (London,
1954), P- 5-
16. The Diary of Thomas Turner, 1754-1765, ed. David Vaizey (Oxford, 1984),
30 August 1755 (p. 13); i January 1756 (p. 21).
244 N O T E S TO P A G E S 1O1-114

17. Ibid., 10 February, 15 October, 1756 (pp. 17-18, 66).

18. Ibid., 17 January 1762 (p. 243).
19. Ibid., 23 June 1763 (p. 274).
20. Ibid., 13 August 1764 (p. 300).
21. Ibid., 10 November 1763,17 January 1762 (pp. 281, 243).
22. Ibid., 19 March 1764 (p. 288); 24 March 1765 (p. 317).
23. Ibid., 5, 6 April 1765 (p. 318).
24. Ibid., 14 April 1765 (p. 318).
25. Ibid., 14 April 1765 (pp. 318-19).
26. Ibid., 24 April 1765 (p. 320).
27. Ibid., 11 May 1765 (p. 321).
28. Ibid., 31 July 1765 (p. 323).
29. Nicolas-Edme Retif de la Bretonne, La vie de mon pere (Paris, 1779, ed.
Gilbert Rouger, Paris, 1970), pp. 19, 33-48.
30. Daily Advertiser, 1750, quoted in Derek Jarett, England in the Age of Hoga-
rth (London, 1976), p. 103.
31. Mercier, Tableau, ii, p. 164.
32. The Diary of Dudley Ryder, 1/15-1/16, ed. William Mathews (London,
!959)> 4 and 11 April 1716 (pp. 213-14).
33. Ibid., 22 May 1716 (p. 240); 3 April 1716 (p. 211).
34. Ibid., 23 May 1716 (p. 241).
35. 'Memorial of James Howard of Manchester (1738 to 1822)', typescript in
the possession of Mrs J. E. Nurse, Tunbridge Wells.
36. James Gall, 'Journal, 1809-1813', January 1809, National Library of Scot-
land, Ace. 8874. H. T. Finck, Romantic Love and Personal Beauty (New
York, 1887).
37. Diary of E. E. Graham, 1872-1932, 12 March 1875, Robert Graham Diaries,
National Library of Scotalnd, Ace. 9077.
38. Graham Diary, entries for 7, 11, 12, 13, 16 April, 5 August 1875.
39. Anderson Papers, boxes i, 2, 6, 7, 60, Stanford University Libraries, Spe-
cial Collections and University Archives, M5i.
40. Louis de Sainte-Ange, Le secret de triompher lesfemmes et de les fixer (Paris,
1825), p. 2.
41. Ibid., pp. 10-17.
42. Ibid., pp. 135-44.
43. Dictionary of American Biography, vi (New York, 1931), pp. 383ff; Henry
Theophilus Finck, My Adventures in the Golden Age of Music (New York,
1926), pp. 270-72.
44. Finck, My Adventures, p. 270.
45. Ibid., pp. 271-72.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 114-122 245

46. Horace Bleackley, The Beautiful Duchess: Being an Account of the Life and
Times of Elizabeth Gunning, Duchess of Hamilton and Argyle (London,
1927), pp. 6-7.
47. Life and Character of the Late Illustrious Duchess of Kingston ... Collected
from Authentic Sources (London, 1788), p. 15.
48. Anon. [K. Hamilton, 6th Duke of Hamilton], The Charms of Beauty of The
Grand Contest between the Fair Hibernians, and the English Toasts: A Poem
Occasioned by the Marriage of his Grace the Duke of Hamilton with Miss
Elizabeth Gunning; and the Expected Marriage of her Elder Sister with a Cer-
tain Noble Earl (London, 1752).
49. DNB, xliv (1895), p. 419.
50. Ibid., p. 418.
51. Cited by Ernest John Knapton, Empress Josephine (Cambridge, Mass.
!963)> p. 18. In general see Andrea Stuart's brilliant The Rose of Martin -
inque: A Life of Napoleon's Josephine (London, 2003).
52. Knapton, Empress Josephine, p. 19.
53. Ibid., p. 25.
54. Ibid., pp. 127-28.
55. Ibid., p. 113.
56. Nina Epton, Josephine: The Empress and her Children (London, 1975), p. i.

Notes to Chapter 6: Grandes Horizontales

1. See Claude Dufresne, La divine scandaleuse: Hortense Schneider (Paris,
!993); Jean-Paul Bonami, La Diva d'Offenbach: Hortense Schneider,
1833-1920 (Paris, 2002).
2. Both quotations are in Bernard Grebanier, The Uninhibited Byron
(London, 1970), p. 199; see also Leslie A. Marchand, Byron: A Biography
(London, 1957), i, p. 370, and, generally, the magnificent biographies
Benita Eisler, Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame (London, 1999), and
Fiona MacCarthy, Byron: Life and Legend (London, 1997).
3. Biographical information from Cornelia Otis Skinner, Elegant Wits and
Grand Horizontals (London, 1963); Joanna Richardson, The Courtesans:
The Demi-Monde in Nineteenth Century France (London, 1967); Virginia
Rounding, Grandes Horizontales: The Lives and Legends of Four Nine-
teenth-Century Courtesans (London, 2003); Charles Castle, La Belle Otero:
The Last Great Courtesan (London, 1981); Michael Harrison, Fanfare of
Strumpets (London, 1971); Auriant, Les lionnes du second empire (Paris,
1935).
4. Edgar Holt, Plon-Plon: The Life of Prince Napoleon (London, 1973), p. 121.
246 N O T E S TO P A G E S 122-131

5. Marie Colombier, Memoires: fin d'empire (Paris, 1898), chapter 2 for her
obscure origins.
6. Yolaine de la Bigne, Valtesse de la Bigne: ou le pouvoir de la volupte (Paris,
1999)> PP. 218-19, 236.
7. Richardson, The Courtesans, p. 64; Rounding, Grandes Horizontals, chap-
ters 4 and 9; Janine Alexandre-Debray, La Paiva: Ses amants, ses man's
(Paris, 1986), esp. pp. 6iff.
8. Rounding, Grandes Horizontals, p. 82.
9. Richardson, The Courtesans, p. 52.
10. 'Zed', Le Demi-Monde sous le second empire: souvenirs d'un sybarite (Paris,
1892), p. 53-
11. Hickman, The Courtesans, pp. 5-6.
12. cZed', Le Demi-Monde, p. 14.
13. Paul Gsell, Memoires de Mme Judith de la Comedie Francaise (Paris, 1911),
p. 221.
14. This account is based on Poiret-Dalpach, Marie Duplessis: 'La dame
aux camelias' (Paris 1981); Rounding, Grandes Horizontales, chapters 2
and 3.
15. Romain Vienne, La verite sur la dame aux camelias (Paris, 1888), pp. 105-6.
16. Celeste Mogador, Memoires (Paris, 1858-59), i, pp. 240-41.
17. Ibid., i, p. 173
18. Ibid., ii, p. 38.
19. Richardson, The Courtesans, chapter i.
20. Henry Blyth, Skittles, the Last Victorian Courtesan: The Life and Times of
Catherine Walters (London, 1977), pp. 21-22.
21. See Ishbell Ross, The Uncrowned Queen: The Life of Lola Montez (New
York, 1972).
22. R. P. Pzewaski, preface to Liane de Pougy, My Blue Notebooks (London,
1979), P-14-
23. See Jean-Louis Vaudoyer, Alice Ozy: ou VAspasie moderne (Paris, 1930),
pp. 77fT.
24. Ross, The Uncrowned Queen, pp. 273ff; Lola Montez, Memoirs (New York,
1860), and Lola Montez, The Arts and Secrets of Beauty (New York, 1853);
James F. Varley, Lola Montez, the Californian Adventures of Europe's Noto-
rious Courtesan (Spokane, Washington, 1996).
25. Rebecca West, 1900 (London, 1982), p. 154.
26. Pzewaski, preface to de Pougy, Blue Notebooks, p. 14.
27. Skinner, Elegant Wits and Grand Horizontals, pp. i88ff.
28. Ibid., p. 188.
29. Sam Waagenaar, The Murder of Mata Hari (London, 1964), p. 172. Other
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 132-140 247

supporters of Mata Hari's innocence are Russell Howe, Mata Hari: The
True Story (New York, 1986), Julie Wheelwright, The Fatal Lover: Mata
Hari and the Myth of Women in Espionage (London, 1992, and Lionel
Dumarcet, Vaffaire Mata Hari (Paris, 1999). For reasoned indications of
some guilt see Ronald Miller, Mata Hari (Geneva, 1970), Fred Kupferman,
Mata Hari: songes et mensonges (Brussels, 1982), and Philippe Collas, Mata
Hari: Sa veritable histoire (Paris, 2003).
30. For Castiglione see Claude Dufresne, La Comtesse de Castiglione (Paris,
2002); for de Merode and Sabatier see respectively Cleo de Merode, Le bal-
let de ma vie (Paris, 1955) and Rounding, Grandes Horizontal chapters 5
and 6.
31. Lois W. Banner, American Beauty (New York 1983, Chicago 1984), chap-
ters 6-8.
32. Ibid., p. 128.
33. Ibid., p. 135
34. Ibid., p. 135.
35. Ibid., p. 136.
36. Clarence Day, quoted in Banner, American Beauty, p. 136.
37. Banner, American Beauty, plate 19 and caption.
38. Ibid., p. 136.
39. Ibid., p. 257.
40. Ibid., p. 258.
41. Ibid., p. 138.
42. Ibid., p. 138.
43. Spirit of the Times, 15 November 1882, quoted in Banner, American Beauty,
p.138.
44. James Brough, The Prince and the Lily (New York, 1975), pp. 141-42.
45. See Tom Prideaux, Love or Nothing: The Life and Times of Ellen Terry (New
York, 1975), and Ellen Terry, My Life (London, 1910).
46. Prideaux, Ellen Terry, p. 113.
47. Philippe Julianne, Sarah Bernardt (Paris, 1977), p. 34. My account is based
on this excellent biography, amplified by Andre Castelot, Ensourcelante
Sarah Bernhardt (Paris, 1973), Ma double vie: memoires de Sarah Bernhardt
(Paris, 1907), and Pierre Spirakoff, Sarah Bernhardt vue par les Nadav
(Paris, 1982).
48. Merode, Ballet, pp. 88-89.
49. Jan Marsh, Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood (London, 1985), pp. 15-32, 117-20,
244-48.
50. The visual sources cited are reproduced in Marwick, Beauty, pp. 254-59,
where my arguments are developed more fully. On the undoubted good
248 N O T E S TO P A G E S 141-148

looks of Lizzie Siddall see also Gay Daly, The Pre-Raphaelites in Love
(London, 1989), p. 34-
51. Derek Hudson, Munby, Man of Two Worlds: The Life and Diaries of Arthur
J. Munby, 1828-1910 (London, 1972), pp. 40-41.
52. Quoted in Hilary Evans, The Oldest Profession: An Illustrated History of
Prostitution (Newton Abbot, 1979), p. 121.
53. Ibid., p. 121.
54. B. Pierce Egan, Life in London (London, 1869), pp. 88-90.
55. Renee Jeanne, Charles Ford, Histoire du Cinema (Paris, 1947-55), i> PP- 2o8,
486; ii, pp. 29-30; iii, pp. 107, 405.

Notes to Chapter 7: The Tallest Wins

1. DNB, xlv (1896), pp. 258-59, 365.
2. Quoted by Louis Kronenberger, The Extraordinary Mr Wilkes (New York,
1974), P- 4-
3. Quoted by Audrey Williamson, Wilkes: (A Friend to Liberty' (London,
1974)> P- 72.
4. Williamson, Wilkes-, p. 18
5. Donald Nicholas, The Portraits of Bonnie Prince Charlie (London, 1973),
p.i.
6. Herbert Agar, The American Presidents from Washington to Harding (Lon-
don, 1933), p. 3.
7. Robert Darnton, George Washington's False Teeth (New York, 2003).
8. David K. Bruce, Sixteen American Presidents (London, 1962), p. 39.
9. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 3.
10. Ibid., pp. 61-62.
11. Dictionary of American Biography (DAB), x (New York, 1933), pp. 17-18.
12. Agar, American Presidents, p. 87.
13. Quoted in Bruce, Sixteen American Presidents, p. 178.
14. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 113.
15. John and Alice Durant, Pictorial History of American Presidents (New York,
1958), p. 75-
16. Durant, Pictorial History of American Presidents, p. 82.
17. Ibid., p. 94
18. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 157.
19. Bruce, Sixteen Presidents, p. 290.
20. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 243; Durant, Pictorial History of Ameri-
can Presidents, p. 177.
21. Durant, Pictorial History of the American Presidents, p. 193.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 148-156 249

22. Quoted by, among many others, Agar, The American Presidents, p. 74.
23. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 94.
24. Cyclopaedia, v, p. 283; Agar, The American Presidents, p. 130.
25. Bruce, Sixteen Presidents, p. 240.
26. Bruce, Sixteen Presidents, p. 260.
27. Durant, Pictorial History of American Presidents, p. 137.
28. Durant, Pictorial History of American Presidents, p. 145; Agar, The Ameri-
can Presidents, p. 223.
29. Durant, Pictorial History of the American Presidents, p. 183; Agar, The
American Presidents, p. 247.
30. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 260; Durant, Pictorial History of the
American Presidents, p. 188.
31. Agar, The American Presidents, p. 174.
32. Ibid., p. 180.
33. Reproduced in Marwick, Beauty, p. 237.
34. Cyclopaedia, iii p. 726; DAB, xi (1933), pp. 246-47.
35. Quoted by Stephen B. Gates, Abraham Lincoln: The Man Behind the Myths
(New York, 1984), pp. 50-51.
36. Dwight C. Anderson, Abraham Lincoln (New York, 1982); Cullom David
(ed.), The Public and Private Lincoln (London, 1979): Gates, Abraham Lin-
coln.
37. Cited by Gates, Abraham Lincoln, p. 35.
38. Richard N. Current, The Lincoln Nobody Knows (New York, 1958), pp. 2,
4-5-
39. The election is summarised in Arthur Schlesinger jr (ed.), The Coming to
Power: Critical Presidential Elections in American History (New York, 1981).
40. Robert W. Johannsen, Stephen A. Douglas (New York, 1973), p. 4.
41. Schlesinger, The Coming to Power.
42. Johanssen, Stephen A. Douglas, p. 781.
43. James M. McPherson (ed.), 'To the Best of My Ability': The American Pres-
idents (New York, 2000), p. 104.
44. Larry Gara, The Presidency of Franklin Pierce (Lawrence, Kansas, 1991), p. 29.
45. DAB, xiv, p. 577; Cyclopaedia, v, p. 9.
46. DNB, Ivi (1898), p. 17.
47. 'Memoirs from Lord Shaftesbury', in The Hon. Evelyn Ashley, The Life of
Henry John Temple, Viscount Palmerstony 1846-1865 (London, 1876), ii,
p. 316.
48. Kenneth Bourne, Palmerston: The Early Years (London, 1982), pp. 185, 434.
Hot off the press is James Chambers, Palmerston (London, 2004).
49. Ashley, Palmerston, ii, p. 288.
25O N O T E S TO P A G E S 156-165

50. DNB, xv (1988), p. 10.

51. Robert Blake, Disraeli (London, 1966), p. 473.
52. DNB, 1941-1950 (1959), p. 528.
53. W. P. R. George, My Brother and I (London, 1976), pp. 94-95. In general
see John Grigg, The Young Lloyd George (London, 1973) pp. 58-59, and
Lloyd George: The People's Champion, 1902-1911 (London, 1978), esp. p. 189.
54. Grigg, The Young Lloyd George^ p. 59.
55. David Duff, Eugenie and Napoleon (London, 1978), p. 98.
56. Duff, Eugenie and Napoleon, p. 72; Jasper Ridley, Napoleon III and Eugenie
(London, 1979), p. 157.

Notes to Chapter 8: Movies

1. Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy
and the United States, c. 1958 to c. 1974 (Oxford, 1998).
2. Rene Jeanne, Les Grandes Vedettes du cinema: beaute masculine (Paris,
1929), p. 3.
3. E. Charles-Roux, Chanel (Paris, 1976), pp. 151-53.
4. Robert Roberts, The Classic Slum (London, 1971), p. 181.
5. Ella Adelin Fletcher, The Woman Beautiful (New York, 1899), p. i.
6. Harriet Hubbard Ayer, Harriet Hubbard Ayer's Book: A Complete and
Authentic Treatise on the Laws of Health and Beauty (Springfield, Massa-
chusetts, 1899 and 1902), p. 57.
7. Mrs C. E. Humphry, How to be Pretty though Plain (London, 1899), P- 12 -
8. C. Sherman Big, Face and Figure (London, 1879), P- 21.
9. Harriet Hubbard Ayer's Book, pp. 5off.
10. Femina-Bibliotheque (preface by Henri Duvernois), Pour etre belle (Paris,
1913)> PP- i-ix; Arthur Lefebvre, L'art d'etre belle (Paris, 1901), p. 7;
Humphry, How to be Pretty, p. 14 (cwork well done has made many a plain
face beautifuP; Comtesse de Traver, Que veut la femme; etre jolie, etre
aimee, et dominer (Paris, 1911), p. 9; Alice M. Long, My Lady Beautiful
(Chicago, 1906), passim. The advice offered to Italian women did not
greatly change over one hundred and fifty years: see, for example, La
bellezza e di mezzi di conservarla ossia la toalette delle signore (Milan, 1827),
and Prof. George Banhoff, Veterno feminino: una guida alia bellezza
(Rome, 1958).
11. Madame Athena, Pour se faire aimer (Paris, n. d., c. 1920), p. n.
12. Hortense Odium, A Woman's Place (New York, 1939), pp. 218-20.
13. US War Department Education Manual £Mp&2: Establishing and Operat-
ing a Beauty Shop (Madison, Wisconsin, n. d., c. 1944), p. 2.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 165-173 251

14. Ibid., pp. 2-3

15. Louis Leon-Martin, L'Industrie de la beaute (Paris, 1930), p. 230.
16. See in particular the four boxes of advertisements, leaflets, handbills, etc.,
entitled 'Beauty Parlour', in the John Johnson Collection, Bodleian
Library, Oxford.
17. Nose machine, and supporting advertisements, etc, in Museum of Lon-
don.
18. Madame Vriac-Lecot, Pour etre belle a tout age (Paris, 1929), p. 7; Allied
Newspapers, Beauty for Every Woman (Manchester, 1929), p. 7.
19. Vriac-Lecot, Pour etre belle, pp. 24-25.
20. Paula S. Pass, The Damned and the Beautiful: American Youth in the 19205
(New York, 1977), p. 281.
21. Letter to Le Petit Parisien quoted by Leon-Martin, Industrie, pp. 236-68.
22. Herbert Andrews, General Manager Screen Advertising Inc., to Hon.
Ernest Lundeen, 23 January 1918, Ernest Lundeen Papers, box 91, Hoover
Institution Archives.
23. New York Tribune, 7 December 1923, clipping in Mark Sullivan Papers, box
i, Hoover Institution Archives.
24. Edward Pessen, The Log Cabin Myth: The Social Background of the Presi-
dents (New Haven, Connecticut, 1984), p. 156.
25. W. E. Leuchtenberg, The Perils of Prosperity, 1914-1932 (Chicago 1958),
p. 89.
26. Mark Sullivan Diary, 12 September 1923, Mark Sullivan Papers, box i,
Hoover Institution Archives.
27. New York Tribune, 7 December 1923, Mark Sullivan Papers, box i, Hoover
Institution Archives.
28. Kansas City Journal, 14 September 1932, Mark Sullivan Papers, box 233;
New York Times, 6 November 1932, and other clipppings in Raymond
Moley Papers, boxes, 5, 11, Hoover Institution Archives.
29. New York Times Magazine, 6 November 1932.
30. Seattle Star, 26 September 1932; Chicago Sunday Tribune, 21 August 1932;
Cleveland Plain Dealer, 21 August 1932; Cleveland Sunday News, 21 August
1932; clippings in Moley Papers, boxes 5, 4,11.
31. Friends of Franklin Roosevelt, Franklin D. Roosevelt: Who He Is and What
He Has Done (New York, 1932), Moley Papers, box 11.
32. World Telegram, 23 August 1932, Moley Papers, box 4.
33. Chicago Sunday Tribune, 21 August 1932, Moley Papers, box 4.
34. See DNB, 1931-1940 (Oxford, 1949), p. 569.
35. See David Marquand, Ramsay MacDonald (London, 1977), pp. 285-87.
36. Ibid., pp. 69, 6.
252 N O T E S TO P A G E S 1/3-182

37. David Carlton Anthony Eden: A Biography (London, 1981; paperback

1986)), p. 111; David Dutton, Anthony Eden: A Life and Reputation (Lon-
don, 1988), p. 461; D. R. Thorpe, Eden: The Life and Times of Anthony Eden,
First Earl of Avon, 1897-1977 (London, 2003), who attributes Eden's 'hand-
some being' to his mother's having been a 'society beauty', p. 19.
38. DNB.
39. Carlton, Anthony Eden, p. 111; Dutton, Anthony Eden, p. 461. For Eden on
TV see Michael Cockerell, Live from Number 10: The Inside Story of Prime
Ministers on Television (London, 1988), p. 31.
40. There is an excellent, up-to-date discussion of the Suez episode in Thorpe,
Eden, chapters, 17,18,19.
41. Arthur Marwick, Class in the Twentieth Century (Brighton, 1986), p. 23.
42. Cited in Robert Hessler, Yesterday's Rulers: The Making of the British Colo-
nial Service (Syracuse, New York, 1963), pp. 74-75.
43. Report of the Royal Commission on the Civil Service (1931), paras 250-56.
44. Marwick, Class in the Twentieth Century, chapter i.
45. H. W. Nevinson, Running Accompaniments (London, 1936), p. 124.
46. Ben Pimlott, Hugh Dalton (London, 1985), p. 37.
47. Ibid., p. 115.
48. Ibid., p. 31.
49. See John Colville, The Fringes of Power: Downing Street Diaries, 1939-1955
(London, 1985).
50. Yale University, The Class 0/1913 (New Haven, Connecticut, 1914), p. 17.
51. Pass, Damned and Beautiful, pp. 155, 157, 201, 230, 240-41.
52. Gordon Grimmet, 'The Lamp Boy's Story', in Rosina Harrison (ed.), Gen-
tleman's Gentleman (London, 1976), p. 16.
53. Ibid., p. 31.
54. Ibid., p. 37.
55. Ibid., pp. 79-80.
56. Edwin Lee, cThe Page Boy's Story' in Harrison (ed.), Gentleman's Gentle-
man, p. no.
57. Grimmet, 'The Lamp Boy's Story', p. 33.
58. Reproduced in Marwick, Beauty, p. 314.
59. Quoted in Frederick Sands and Sven Bromen, The Divine Garbo (London,
1979), P- 30.
60. Boston Herndon, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks (London, 1977),
p. 68.
61. Ibid., p. i.
62. Noel Botham and Peter Donnelly, Valentino: The Love God (London,
1976), pp. 30-83.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S l83~2OO 253

63. Charles Higham, Bette: The Life ofBette Davis (New York, 1981), p. 31.
64. Ibid.
65. Laurence Olivier, Confessions of an Actor (London, 1982), pp. 32, 96.
66. Ibid., p. 108.
67. Marty (United Artists/Hecht-Hill-Lancaster, 1955).
68. See still in Marwick, Beauty, p. 336.
69. Clifford Bax, The Beauty of Women (London, 1946), p. 95.
70. Barbara Learning, Marilyn Monroe (London, 1998; paperback, 2002), pp. iiff.
71. Quoted in Anthony Summers, Goddess: The Secret Lives of Marilyn Mon-
roe (London, 1985), pp. 35-61.
72. Ibid., pp. 301-68; Learning, Marilyn Monroe, pt 3.
73. Peter Guralnick, The Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley
(Boston, 1994), pp. 81,140.

Notes to Chapter 9: The Swinging Sixties

1. Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy
and the United States, c. 1958-0. 1974 (Oxford, 1998).
2. Paris Match, 27 April 1963.
3. Elizabeth Kendall, Good Looks, Good Grooming (New York, 1963), p. 25.
4. Paris Match, 4 September 1965.
5. Life, 11 April 1965.
6. Ibid., 28 January 1966.
7. Paris Match, 27 May 1967.
8. Marilyn Bender, The Beautiful People (New York, 1967), p. 23. See gener-
ally David Bailey, David Bailey's Box ofPin-Ups (London, 1965) - most of
them are male - and Michael Gross, Model: The Ugly Business of Beautiful
Women (London, 1996).
9. Ebony, November 1958.
10. Ibid., June 1964, June 1965.
11. Ibid., December 1965.
12. Ibid., February 1966.
13. Ibid., April 1966.
14. Marwick, Beauty, p. 365.
15. Richard Evans, In Defence of History (Cambridge, 1997), p. 72.
16. Ebony, March 1964.
17. See Marwick, Beauty, p. 367; for portrait photograph of Sidney Poitier see
p. 368.
18. 'Explicitness' as well as 'permissiveness' is a characteristic of the 'Cultural
Revolution'. See Marwick, The Sixties, pp. 381-403.
254 N O T E S TO P A G E S 2O1-211

19. Arthur Marwick, 'The Upper Class in Britain, France, and the USA since
World War I', in Arthur Marwick (ed.), Class in the Twentieth Century
(Brighton 1986), pp. 17-61.
20. Jean Shrimpton, The Truth about Modelling (London, 1964), p. 12.
21. Ibid., p. 153.
22. Ibid., pp. i6ff.
23. Ibid., p. 17.
24. Ibid., p. 20.
25. Twiggy, An Autobiography (London, 1975), p. 8.
26. Ibid., p. 24.
27. Ibid., p. 25.
28. Ibid., p. 36.
29. For Twiggy, see Marwick, The Sixties, pp. 419-21, 465; Twiggy Lawson, In
Black and White (London, 1997).
30. For the Beatles in America and, in particular, France and Italy, see
Marwick, The Sixties, pp. 456-71.
31. Peter Joseph, Good Times: An Oral History of America in the Nineteen
Sixties (New York, 1973), p. 185.
32. Quoted in Michael Parkinson, George Best: An Intimate Biography (Lon-
don, 1975), p. 69.
33. Susan Cleeve, Growing Up in the Swinging Sixties (London, 1980), p. 69.
In general, see Jack Olsen, Cassius Clay: A Biography (London, 1967).
34. Erving Goffman, 'On Calling the mark out: some aspects of adaptation to
failure', Psychiatry, 15 (1952), p. 456.
35. E. Walster, V. Aronson, D. Abrahams and L. Rottman, 'Importance of
Physical Attractiveness in Dating Behavior', Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology, 15 (1966), pp. 508-16.
36. Ibid., pp. 513-14-
37. E. Berscheid, K. K. Dion, E. Walster and G. W. Walster, 'Physical Attrac-
tiveness and Dating Choice', Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 7
(1971), pp. 173-89; W. Stroebe, C. A. Insko, V. D. Thompson and B. D. Lay-
don, 'Effects of Physical Attractiveness, Attitude Similarity, and Sex on
Various Aspects of Interpersonal Attraction', Journal of Personality and
Social Psychology, 18 (1971), p. 89.
38. Berscheid et al., 'Physical Attractiveness and Dating Choice', pp. 180-81.
39. Ibid., p. 183.
40. J. L. Huston, 'Ambiguity of Acceptance, Social Desirability, and
Dating Choice', Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 9 (1973),
pp. 32-42.
41. Stroebe et al., 'Effects of Physical Attractiveness', p. 89.
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 211-216 255

42. Bernard J. Murstein, 'Physical Attractiveness and Marital Choice', Journal

of Personality and Social Psychology, 22 (1972), p. 11.
43. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 24 (1974), pp. 205-90.
44. J. E. Singer, 'The Use of Manipulative Strategies: Machiavellianism and
Attractiveness', Sociometry, 27 (1974), pp. 128-50.
45. Josette Lyon, La femme et la beaute (Paris 1965), pp. 9, 12; Helen Whit-
combe and Rosalind Lancy, Charm: The Career GirVs Guide to Business
and Personal Success (New York, 1964); Brigitte Baer, Grande forme: etre
bien dans sa peau (Paris 1970), p. 16.
46. Gilda Lund, Beauty (London, 1963), p. 7.
47. E.g. Helen M. McLachlan, Poise, Personality and Charm (New York, 1965);
Lizabeth Kendall, Good Looks, Good Grooming (New York, 1963).
48. Dr Robert Schwartz, Medecine et beaute (Paris, 1969); Pierre Desjardin, Le
guide de la sante et de la beaute (Paris, 1971).
49. Schwartz, Medicine et beaute, pp. i57ff.
50. See e.g. Franka Guez, Masculin quotidien: guide pratique a Vusage des
hommes (Paris, 1969), pp. 7-8; 'Marabout Flash', Le Guide Flash de
rhomme (Verviers, Belgium, 1970), pp. 8-9.
51. Guez, Masculin quotidien, p. 8.
52. Guide Flash, p. 11.
53. Catherine Harle, Comment devenir modele (Paris, 1970), p. 24.
54. Life, 12 March 1965.
55. Pierette Sartin, La Reussite professionnelle (Paris, 1971), pp. 37-38.
56. Jennie Lee, This Great Journey: A Volume of Autobiography (London, 1963),
with one portrait; My Life with Nye (London, 1980) with several portraits;
Wilfred De'ath, Barbara Castle: A Portrait from Life (London, 1970); Jean
Choffel, Seille une Femme ... Alice Saunier-Seite (Paris, 1979), p. 96; Alice
Saunier-Seite, En premiere ligne: de la communale aux universites (Paris,
1982) - the portrait on the cover shows her as very beautiful; Anne Perkins,
Red Queen: The Authorized Biography of Barbara Castle (London, 2003),
esp. pp. 72-73; Paul Routledge, Madame Speaker: The Life of Betty
Boothroyd (London, 1995).
57. See e.g. Life, 24 August 1959, cover story : 'Jackie Kennedy: A Front Run-
ner's Appealing Wife'.
58. W. L. O'Neill, Coming Apart: An Informal History of America in the 19605
(Chicago, 1971), p. 387n.
59. Kathleen Hall Jamieson, Packaging the President (New York, 1984),
pp. 139-41-
60. Ibid., pp. 153 ff.
61. Life, 26 May 1961.
256 N O T E S TO P A G E S 216-222

62. Ibid., 28 May 1965.

63. Ibid., 21 January 1966.
64. Edmund G. Brown, Reagan and Reality: The Two Californias (New York,
1970), pp. 40-41.
65. Marwick, The Sixties, p. 790.

Notes to Chapter 10: A Gift from the Genes

1. Jane Austen, Mansfield Park (1814), Oxford World's Classics edition
(2003), p. 154; Pride and Prejudice (1813), Penguin Classics edition (1996),
pp. 9, 21, 98.
2. Both quotations are on p. 16 of the Oxford University Press edition (1984)
of Charles Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit (1844). For an approach to beauty
in literature very different from mine see Lennard J. Davis, Resisting
Novels: Ideology and Fiction (New York, 1987), pp. I22ff.
3. Examples are Arline and John Liggett, The Tyranny of Beauty (London,
1989); Julian Robinson, The Quest for Human Beauty: An Illustrated His-
tory (New York, 1998); Kate Mulvey and Melissa Richards, Decades of
Beauty: The Changing Image of Women (London, 1998); Robin Tolmach
LakofT and Raquel L. Scherr, Face Value: The Politics of Beauty (Boston,
1984); Colin Blakemore and Sheila Jennett (ed.), Oxford Companion to the
Body (Oxford, 2003); Richard Evans, In Defence of History (Cambridge,
1997)> P- 72
4. Nature, 368, pp. 186-87 and 240-41; see references in note 5, and also
Elaine Hatfield and Susan Sprecher, Mirror, Mirror: The Importance of
Looks in Everyday Life (Albany, New York, 1986).
5. Among the most important research reports are J. F. Cross and J. Cross,
'Age, Sex, and Race, and the Perception of Physical Attractiveness',
Developmental Psychology, 5 (1971), pp. 433-39; J. M. Thatcherer and
S. Iwawaki, 'Cross-Cultural Comparisons in Interpersonal Attraction
of Females towards Males', Journal of Social Psychology, 108 (1979),
pp. 121-22; Michael K. Cunningham, 'Measuring the Physical in Physi-
cal Attractiveness: Quasi-Experiments in the Sociobiology of Female
Facial Beauty', Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 50 (1986),
pp. 925-41; D. M. Jones and K. Hill, 'Criteria of Facial Attractiveness in
Five Populations', Human Nature, 4 (1993), pp. 271-96; V. S. Johnston
and M. Franklin, 'Is Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder?', Ethnology
and Sociobiology, 14 (1993), pp. 183-99; D. E. Perrett, K.A.May, S. Yos-
gikava, 'Facial Shape and Judgements of Female Attractiveness',
Nature, 368 (1994), pp. 239-42. There is a brilliant general study by
 N O T E S TO P A G E S 222-230 257

Nancy C. Etcoff, Survival of the Prettiest: The Science of Beauty (Boston,

1999).
6. Nature, 368, p. 186.
7. Nicola Sault, 'Introduction' to Nicola Sault (ed.)> Many Mirrors: Body
Image and Social Relations (New Brunswick, New Jersey, 1944), p. i.
8. Natalie Beausoleil, 'Makeup in Everyday Life: An Inquiry into the Prac-
tices of Urban American Women of Diverse Backgrounds' in, Sault (ed.),
Body Image, p. 55; Ellen Zetzel Lambert. The Face of Love: Feminism and
the Beauty Question (Boston, 1995), p. xii.
9. Lee Sigelman, Carol K. Sigelman and Christopher Fowler, 'A Bird of a
Different Feather? An Experimental Investigation of Physical Attractive-
ness and the Eligibility of Female Candidates', Social Psychology Quarterly,
50 (1987), pp. 32-43-
10. Claude Annet, Suzanne Lenglen (Paris, 1927).
11. Daniel McNeill, The Face (1998), p. 340, summarising the recent social
psychology research.
12. Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind (London, 1936), p. i.
13. Confessions of a Kept Man as told to John O'Day, with Psychological Evalu-
ations by Dr Leonard A Lowag, PhD, LPD (Los Angeles, 1964).
14. See correspondance in Independent, 3, 4 April 2003.
15. National Bureau of Economic Research, Beauty and the Labor Market and
The Economic Reality of the Beauty Myth, Working Papers 4518 and 4523
(Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1993); Daniel S. Hammesh and Jeff E. Biddle,
'Beauty and the Labor Market', American Economic Review, 84 (1994),
pp. 1174-94; Economist, 24 May 2003; A. Mazur, J. Mazur and C. Keating,
'Military Rank Attainment of a West Point Class: Effects of Cadets' Phys-
ical Features', American Journal of Sociology, 90 (1984), pp. 125-50;
I. H. Frieze, J. E. Olsen, and D. C. Good, 'Perceived and Actual Discrimi-
nation in the Salaries of Male and Female Managers', Journal of Applied
Social Psychology, 20 (1990), pp. 46-47.
16. Daniel McNeill, The Face, p. 281.
17. Kate Mulvey and Melassa Richards, Decades of Beauty: The Changing
Image of Women (London, 1998), pp. 191, 202-3.
18. Independent, 18 March 2002.
19. Laura Jackson, Ewan McGregor. A Force to be Reckoned With (London,
1999), p. 113; see also Andy Dougan, The Biography of George Clooney (Bas-
ingstoke, 1997); and, for the Beckhams, Andrew Morton, Posh and Becks
(London, 2003).
20. Independent, 23 December 2003.
21. Sigelman and Sigelman, 'Bird of a Different Feather'.
258 N O T E S TO P A G E S 231-232

22. Nigel Hamilton, Bill Clinton: An American Journey (2003); John Rentoul,
Tony Blair, Prime Minister (2001). For interesting comparisons see the jeu
d'esprit by Grail Marcus, Double Trouble: Bill Clinton and Elvis Presley in
a Land of No Alternatives (London, 2000).
23. Eileen Jones, Neil Kinnock (London, 1994); Jo-Anne Nadler, William
Hague in his Own Right (London, 2001).
24. John Kampfner, Robin Cook (London, 1999).
25. Nigel Andrews, True Myths: the Life and Times of Arnold Schwarzenegger
(London, 1995).
26. McNeill, The Face, p. 344, summarising the empirical evidence.
27. Ill-fated sixties pop star Janis Joplin 'was very uncomfortable about what
she felt was her physical unattractiveness, her marred, pitted skin and her
bulky body. Her concern was obsessive that men wouldn't find her appeal-
ing'. Myra Friedman, Buried Alive: The Biography of Janis Joplin (London,
1974), P- 52.
28. Charlotte M. Wright, Plain and Ugly Janes: The Rise of the Ugly Heroine in
American Fiction (New York, 2000).
 Note on Sources

I don't like the antique word 'Bibliography' - an original work of history is

based on archives, artefacts, visual sources, etc. and not just other people's
books. The Sources listed at the end of my Beauty in History: Society, Politics
and Personal Appearance, c. 1500 to the Present take up twenty double-column
pages, and serious scholars are referred to this. Here I simply summarise the
kinds of evidence my work is based on, also noting some recent books relevant
to the more controversial issues. When place of publication is not given, it is
London.

P R I M A R Y SOURCES

These fall into four broad categories:

i. Portraits

(Wherever possible I have sought to study originals; photographs and etchings,

of course, naturally occur as reproductions in books, newspapers, etc.). Princi-
pal Galleries visited:

City Art Gallery, Birmingham

City Art Gallery, Manchester
Dulwich Art Gallery, London
Frick Collection, New York
Galleria Nazionale, Rome
Kenwood House, London
Musee Carnavalet, Paris
Musee Cognac-Jay Paris
Musee des Beaux Arts, Orleans
Musee des Beaux Arts, Nancy
Musee de Saint-Omer
26O IT

Musee d'Orsay, Paris

Museo Archeologico, Naples
Museo Correr, Venice
Museum of Brussels
National Gallery of Art, Washington
National Gallery of Scotland, Edinburgh
National Museum, Stockholm
National Portrait Gallery, London
Palazzo Bianco, Genoa
Scottish National Portrait Gallery
Uffizi Gallery, Florence
Vatican Museum, Rome
Wallace Collection, London

2. Letters, Diaries, Memoirs and Contemporary Artefacts

(a) Archives and Museums:

Archivio Diaristico, Pieve Santo Stefano, AR, Tuscany

Anna Avallone, £I1 mio sessantotto: ricordi di un "madre" e "insegnante"
Ivana Cavaletti, 'Diario di una teenager, 1958-1960'
Silvana Sabatini, cPagini e giorni: diario di una donna borghese'

Bancroft Library, University of California at Berkeley

Henry Nash Smith Papers, 8//136C
Social Protest Collection, 68/15/C

Bodleian Library, Oxford

John Johnson Collection: 'Beauty Parlour' (4 boxes)

British Library, London

Department of Prints and Drawings
Political and Personal Satires 5373-6720

Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford University, California

George Barr Baker Collection
Mrs Edsall P. Ford, Diary
Ernest Lundeen Papers
Raymond Moley Papers
 SOURCES 26l

Ronald Reagan Papers (most of this collection was closed, but press releases,
clippings, etc., proved very useful)
Mark Sullivan Papers
Karl H. von Wiegand Papers

Imperial War Museum, London

War Diary of Ann Meader, 1940-41

Istituto Ferruccio Pari, Bologna

Video materials relating to 'the economic miracle' and the 19605

Maison de la Villette, Paris

Various temoignages (oral histories and interviews)

Musee Nationale des Arts et Traditions Populaires, Paris

Various documents on popular culture

Museum of London
Various artefacts, leaflets, etc.

Lincoln County Record Office

Monson Papers

National Gallery of Scotland

Diary of E. C. Batten, 1837 (Ace. 8129)
Diary of E. E. Graham, 1872-1932, Robert Graham Diaries (Ace. 9077)
James Gall, 'Journal 1809-1813' (Ace. 8874)
Traverse Theatre Archive (Ace. 4850 and 10365)

Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe College, Cambridge, Massachusetts

Barbara Seaman Papers
Betty Friedan Papers
Susan Bolotin Papers
MS Magazine Letters

Stanford University Libraries, Special Collections and University Archives

Anderson Papers (M5i)
Bound Manuscripts: Two Commonplace Books, 1779-82 (box 4, item 6) and
1837 (box 2, item 10 (M29o))
James E. Bouldu Diary (M84)
Joseph Henry Steel Papers (Mi67)
262 IT

'Journal of a Tour in France, Switzerland, Italy and a Part of Germany in the

Year 1824' - anonymous holograph (M29O, box 6, item 31)
Louis Fissner Journals (M289)
Mary Hallock Foote Papers (Mns)
Robert Stephen Harlin Diaries (M86)

Private Collection
'Memorial of James Howard of Manchester (1738 to 1872)', written between 1853
and 1862 by his daughter Rachel Barrow (1789-1870), in the possession of Mrs
J. E. Nurse, Tunbridge Wells

(b) There are many published collections of letters, diaries, memoirs (or auto-
biographies). Here is an extremely brief sample (the list in Beauty in History
runs to three double-column pages):

Jane Austen, Austen Papers, ed. R.A.Austen-Leigh (1942); Barrington Family

Letters, 1628-1632, edited for the Royal Historical Society by Arthur Searle,
Camden Fourth Series (1932); Sarah Bernhardt, Ma double vie: memoir'es de
Sarah Bernhardt (Paris, 1907); Comte de J. N. Dufort Cheverny, Memoir es sur
les regnes de Louis XV et Louis XVI, ed. R. de Crevecoeur (Paris, 1886); William
Cole, The Bletcheley Diary of the Reverend William Cole 1756-67, ed. F. C. Stokes
(1931); Madame D'Aulnoy, Memoir es de la cour d'Angleterre, 2 vols. (Paris,
1695); Marquise du Deffand, Correspondance complete de la Marquise du
Deffand (Paris, 1865); Dreux de Radier, Recreations historiques (Paris, 1767);
Helen Forrester, Twopence to Cross the Mersey (1974); David Garrick, Letters of
David Garrick, ed. D. M. Little and G. M. Kahol (1963); Rosina Harrison (ed.),
Gentlemen's Gentlemen (1976); Madame de Hausset, Memoires de Madame de
Hausset: femme de chambre de Madame de Pompadour (Paris, 1824); Mme
Judith, Memoires de Mme Judith de la Comedie Fran$aise, ed. Paul Gsell (Paris,
1911); John Keats, Letters of John Keats, ed. Hyder Edward Rollins (Cambridge,
Massachusetts, 1958); Olivier Lefevre d'Ormesson, Journal dy Olivier Lefevre
d'Ormesson (Paris, 1861); Celeste Mogador, Memoires (Paris, 1858-59); Lady
Monkswell, A Victorian Diarist: Extracts from the Journals of Mary, Lady
Monkswell, 1873-1895, ed. Hon. E. C. F. Collier (1944); The Paston Letters, ed.
John Warrington, 2 vols (1924); The Diary of Samuel Pepys, ed. Robert Latham
and William Mathews, 11 vols (1970-83); Correspondance de Mme de Sevigne, 12
vols. (Paris, 1972-78); Tallement de Reaux, Historiettes (Paris, 1662; 1854);
Horace Walpole, The Letters of Horace Walpole, 9 vols (1857-59).
 SOURCES 263

3. Guides, Treatises, Surveys and other Contemporary Published Materials

These take up over six double-column pages in Beauty in History. Some of the
most important can be found in my chapter notes; here I give a brief sample:

Giovanni Marinelli, Gli Ornamenti delle donne. Tratti delle Scritture d'una Reina
Greca (Venice, 1562); Mrs Susan D. Power, The Ugly Girl Papers: or Hints for the
Toilet (New York, 1874); Plato, The Dialogues of Plato, translated by Benjamin
Jowett (Oxford; 1874, 4th edition revised, 1964); Saint Augustine, The Confes-
sions; The City of God; On Christian Doctrine (Encyclopaedia Britannica,
Chicago, 1952; 1990); Mary Astell, Some Reflections on Marriage (1700); Ger-
maine Greer, The Female Eunuch (1970); Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth: How
Images of Beauty are Used Against Women (New York, 1992); Agnolo Firen-
zuola, Prose di M. Agnolo Firenzuola Fiorentino (Florence, 1540); Marilyn
Bender, The Beautiful People (New York, 1967); Charles Perron, Les Franc-Com-
tois: leur caractere national leur moeurs, leurs usages (Besan9on, 1892); William
Acton, Prostitution Considered in its Moral, Social and Sanitary Aspects (1857,
1870). Garland have published an invaluable facsimile series in 44 volumes,
Marriage, Sex and the Family in England, 1660-1800 (New York, 1984-86).

4. Research Reports (mainly in social psychology): The main ones I have used
can be found in the notes for chapters 9 and 10.

5. Newspapers and Periodicals: Some sense of the range used can be gathered
from my chapter notes.

6. Novels, Plays, Poems, Stories, Operas and Films.

There is scarcely a creative work which does not, even if only negatively,
comment on beauty. For direct references, see my chapter notes.
264 IT

S E C O N D A R Y SOURCES

These fill over six double-column pages in Beauty in History. My work depends
heavily on biographical dictionaries and biographies: the most directly relevant
of these will be found in the chapter notes. Here I confine myself to offering
two brief lists of recent books:

A Books which are opposed to the views I put forward of human beauty as an
independent biological attribute, a relative constant and relative universal,
though in many varieties, and which instead espouse the conventional philo-
sophical or cultural construction of beauty positions.

B Books which tend to support my views (there aren't many of them).

The A list can be divided into Works of Philosophy and Aesthetics, Post-
modernist and Feminist Works (concentrating, for example, on 'The Body'),
Histories of Fashion, Grooming and Cosmetology. Books purporting to be on
sexuality are astonishingly silent on physical attractiveness: e.g. Jeffrey Weeks,
Janet Holland, and Mathew Waites, Sexualities and Society: A Reader (Cam-
bridge, 2003), Jeffrey Weeks, Making Sexual History (Cambridge, 2000), Tim
Hitchcock, English Sexualitiesy 1700-1800 (1997).

Philosophy and Aesthetics

Bill Beckley with David Shapiro, Uncontrollable Beauty: Towards a New Aes-
thetics (New York, 1998); Umberto Eco, Art and Beauty in the Middle Ages (New
Haven, Connecticut, 1986) - actually written in the 19508, reeks of academic
aesthetics; Ellen Scarry, On Beauty and Being Just (Princeton, NJ., 1999) - runs
together all possible meanings of beauty; John Armstrong, The Secret Power of
Beauty (2004) - a brilliant book which yet fails to see that human beauty just
is different from all other kinds of beauty.

Postmodernism and Feminism

Colin Blakemore and Sheila Jennett (eds.), The Oxford Companion to the Body
(Oxford, 2001); Carol Harrison, Beauty and Revelation in the Thought of Saint
Augustine (Oxford, 1992). This, and Kim Power, Veiled Desire: Augustine's Writ-
 SOURCES 265

ing on Women (1995), are very helpful; Harold Koda, Extreme Beauty: The Body
Transformed (New York, 2001); Ellen Zetzel Lambert, The Face of Love: Femi-
nism and the Beauty Question (Boston, 1995); Thomas Laqueur, Making Sex:
Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud (Cambridge, Massachusets, 1990); Jan
Marsh, Pre-Raphaelite Sisterhood (1985), superb scholarship; Nicole Sault (ed.)>
Many Mirrors: Body Image and Social Relations (New Brunswick, New Jersey,
1994); Peter N. Stearns, Fat History: Bodies and Beauty in the Modern West (New
York, 2002); Wendy Steiner, The Problem with Beauty (2001).

Fashion, Grooming and Cosmetology

Elizabeth Haiken, Venus Envy: A History of Cosmetic Surgery (Baltimore, 1997);
Kate Mulvey and Melassa Richards, Decades of Beauty: The Changing Image of
Women (1998); Julian Robinson, The Quest for Human Beauty: An Illustrated
History (New York, 1998); Philip Scranton (ed.), Beauty and Business: Com-
merce, Gender and Culture in Modern America (New York, 2001); Valerie Steele,
Fetish, Fashion, Sex and Power (New York, 1996).

Nancy Etcoff, Survival of the Prettiest: The Science of Beauty (Boston, 1999). This
magnificent book by a psychologist supports everything I myself have been say-
ing about beauty. Elaine Hatfield and Susan Sprecher, Mirror, Mirror: The
Importance of Looks in Everyday Life (New York, 1986) is similarly supportive,
even if it is slightly too Darwinian. Daniel McNeill, The Face (Boston, 1998) is
an impressive compendium of the latest research, lacking however in precise
references, and finally copping out with the old jazz: 'People are beautiful
because of their character, their insight, their ability to delight, their capacity
for affection'.
Finally, SPECIALIST WORKS OF ART HISTORY, PARTICULARLY
THOSE ANALYSING PORTRAITURE are invaluable. At the top of the tree
three books by Roy Strong: Gloriana: The Portraits of Queen Elizabeth I (1987);
Artists of the Tudor Court: The Portrait Miniature Rediscovered (1988); and The
Tudor and Stuart Monarchy: Pageantry, Painting and Iconography, 3 vols (1995,
1998).
This page intentionally left blank
 Index

Abingdon, Mrs (Fanny Barton) 86-88 Barbour, John 35

acting profession 71 Bardot, Brigitte 192,193
sixteenth century 46 Baroque style 18
seventeenth-eighteenth centuries 84-89 Barrow, Rachel 107
nineteenth century 121,122,129-30, Barton, Fanny (Mrs Abingdon) 86-88
133-39 Bate, Rev. Henry 89
film stars 179-88, 192-94,199-200, 208, Bax, Clifford 185
228 Beatles, The 206
Adams, John 146-47 beautiful, taxonomy of beauty 12
Adams, John Quincy 148 beauty contests 7-8,167-68,192-93
advertising 139,165,166, 196, 201 Ancient Greece 32
Agar, Herbert 145-46,149 black women 197
ageing 52, 77,129 commercial 134
Ancient Greece photographic 138-39, 183
'Greek ideal of beauty' 4-5,15,16 beauty/'grooming' guides 37-38, 162-64,
philosophers 26-32 166-67, 213, 214
statues 16-17, 30 Beauvarnier, Jeanne (Madame Du Barry)
Anderson, Melville 109-10 49, 62-63, 65-66, 81-82
Anne of Cleves 53 Beckham, David 228, 229
Antigny, Marie-Ernestine (Blanche Becu, Jeanne 64-65, 71
d'Antigny) 122, 125, 127-28, 129 beholders, consensus of 9-10
Antonioni, Michelangelo 194 Bell, John 152,153
Arthur, Chester 148 Belle Helene (Hortense Schneider)
Arthur, Prince 52 119-20, 121
artistic representations 13-19, 71-72 Bembo, Pietro 42-43
Italian Renaissance 41, 43-44 Bender, Marilyn 195
medieval 37 Beneni, Giulia ('La Barucci') 122, 125,
see also portraits; sculptures 129
artists' models 72,127,136, 140-41 bereavement and marriage 101-2
Astell, Mrs Mary 27, 46-47, 96 Bernard, Juliette (Madame Recamier)
Astor, Lady 178 76-77
Austen, Jane 219 Bernhardt, Sarah 7, 125, 128, 136, 137-39
Azzolino, Cardinal Decco 66-67 Best, George 206-7
biological/evolutionary perspective 10, 12,
Bailey, David 192, 201, 202-3 222, 226
Baker, Nancy C. 22, 23, 220 blacks, see ethnicity
Baker, Norma Jean (Marilyn Monroe) Blair, Betsy 184-85, 208
185-88, 193, 200 Blair, Tony 231
Banner, Lois W. 132, 133,134-35,168 Blanc, Louis 158
268 IT

blondes 8 character and physical appearance 26,

'The British Blondes' 121,133 36-37, 43
versus brunettes 112,113 Charles Edward Stuart, Prince ('Bonnie
Blow Up (film) 194 Prince Charlie') 144-45
bodily/corporeal beauty 28-30 Charles I 60
'body fascism' 13, 231-32 Charles II11, 51, 56, 57, 58, 59, 61
body weight 6-7, 9, 36,125,133-35 Charles VIII 44
see also fatness; slimming diets; Charmides 30-31
slimness Chassaigne, Ann-Marie 128, 129
Boleyn, Anne 50, 52-53 Chekhov, Anton 8-9
Booth, William 141 Christianity 26, 27, 37
Boothroyd, Betty 215 and marriage 103
Borsay, Dr Peter 96 Protestanism/Catholicism 53, 59, 61
Botticelli, Sandro 14,15 Russian Orthodox Church 67
Boucher, Francois 63 St Augustine 27, 32-34
Boulet, Caprice 228 Christina, Queen of Sweden 66-67, 72, 73
Bow, Clara 183 Churchill, John, Duke of Marlborough
Brandt, Isabella 17,18 49-50, 62
Braunschvig, Marcel 5-6 Churchill, Winston 174
Brawne, Fanny 2 classical thought, see Ancient Greece;
breasts 38-39, 205 Romans
Breckenridge, John 152,153 Clay, Cassius (Muhammad Ali) 207
British Blondes 121,133 Clayton, Lucie 201, 202
British political leaders 143-45, 155~58> cleanliness 105,111
172-75,176-78, 231 Clesinger, Auguste 127
women 215 Cleveland, Grover 149
Brooke, Rupert 176 Clinton, Bill 231
brunettes versus blondes 112,113 Clooney, George 228
Buchanan, James 148 Colombier, Marie 122
Burden, Jane 140 Colville, John 177
Byron, Lord 120-21 Comedie Fran9aise 137,138
communications technology 171-72
Campari, Niccolo 43 Connery, Sean 192, 194
Carlton, David 173-74 consensus of beholders 9-10
Carlyle, Alexander 144 Cook, Robin 231
Casanova 92-93 Coolidge, President Calvin 169,170
Castiglione, Count Baldesar 41-42 Cornforth, Fanny 140-41
Castiglione, Countess 132 corporeal/bodily beauty 28-30
Castle, Barbara 215 cortigiana onesta 72
Castlemaine, Lady (Barbara Villiers) 49, cosmetic surgery 186, 213-14, 230
56-57, 58, 62 cosmetics 6, 37-38,164,165,166, 223
Catherine of Arragon 52 black 196
Catherine of Braganza 57 improvised 203
Catherine the Great (Princess Sophia of poisonous 82
Anhalt-Zeerbst) 11, 66, 67, 68-9, Couch, Eliza Emma (Cora Pearl) 122, 124,
223-24 129
Cavalieri, Lina 123,125,129,142 courtesans 72, 78-79,121-32 passim
celebrities, contemporary 228-29 Coverdale, Miles 95
Chanel, 'Coco' 162, 228 Creuze, Count 75-76
Chaplin, Charlie 11,181-82 Culpepper, Thomas 53
 INDEX 269

cultural change (19605) 191-92 de Minut, Gabriel 39-40

cultural constructionism 14-15,140, 222 de Montespan, Madame Francoise 49,
see also feminism 54-55> 56
Curchod, Susan (Madame Necker) 75 de Mora, Marquis 74-75
Cushman, Abbie Helen (Mrs Finck) de Motteville, Madame 57
113-14 de Pompadour, Madame (Jeanne
Antoinette Poisson) 50, 62-64
d'Alembert 74 de Reaux, Tallement 73
d'Alencon 122,125,128-29 de Sevigne, Madame 85
Dalton, Hugh 176-77 de Sevigny, Francoise Marguerite 49
dance, 'matching hypothesis' study de Stae'l, Baron (Eric-Magnus) 75-76
209-11 de Stae'l, Madame (Anne-Louise-
dancers 121,127,128,130-31,133 Germaine Necker) 75, 76, 77
male 182 de Tascher de la Pagerie, Josephine 116,
d'Arbrantes, Duchesse 117 117-18
Darnton, Robert 146-47 de Villeneuve, Justin (Davies, Nigel John)
Darwinian/evolutionary perspective 10, 203-4, 205
12, 222, 226 decay/death 34
Daudet, Alphonse 124 see also ageing
d'Aulnoy, Madame 58, 61 d'Effiat, Henri (Marquis de Cinq-Mars)
Davalo, Alfonso 44 49, 60-61
Davies, Nigel John (Justin de Villeneuve) deformity, see physical
203-4, 205 disability/deformity/disease
Davis, Bette 183 Delabigne, Louise (Yolaine de la Bigne) 123
Davis, Jefferson 149 demi-monde 120-30 passim
Davis, Moll 58 Deneuve, Catherine 192,194
de Beauharnais, Alexandre 116-17 Deslions, Anna 122
de Beauvoir, Simone 6, 72-73 d'Estrees, Gabrielle 49
de Chariere, Madame 75 Detourbey, Jeanne 122,129-30
de Choisy, Abbe 55 Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex 49
de Cinq-Mars, Marquis (Henri d'Effiat) Dickens, Charles 99, 219-20
49, 60-61 Diomata of Mantinea 28-29, 30
de Conde, Prince 54-55 Disease, see physical
de Courcelles, Alexandrine 75 disability/deformity/disease
de Flurance Rivault, David 39 Disraeli, Benjamin 156-57
de Fontanges, Marie Angelique 55-56 divine beauty 28-30, 33-34
de Guibert, Comte 74-75 Domenichi, Lodovico 43, 44
de Keroualle, Louise, Duchess of d'Ormesson, Olivier Lefevre 55
Portsmouth 58-59 Doro, Marie 133
de la Bigne, Yolaine (Louise Delabigne) 123 Douglas, Stephen A. 152-53
de la Tour, Maurice Quentin 145 dowries 54, 106
de la Valliere, Louise 50, 54, 55 du Barry, Jean 65
de Lenclos, Ninon 50, 72-73, 77 du Barry, Madame (Jeanne Beauvarnier)
de Lespinasse, Mile Julie 73, 74-75 49, 62-63, 65-66, 81-82
de Lome, Marion 49, 60-61, 72 Dudley, Robert 52
de Maintenon, Madame (Scarron) 56 Dukakis, Michael 146
de Maugny, Comte (Zed) 124 Dumas, Alexandre 126,130,137
de' Medici, Catherine 39 Duplessis, Marie (Rose Alphonsine
de' Medici, Marie 18, 54, 60 Plessis) 122, 125-26, 129
de Merode, Cleo 125,128,132,139 Durant, John and Alice 145,148,149
2/0 IT

earthly to absolute beauty 28-29 film(s) 142

Ebony (magazine) 195-96,197-98 Blow Up 194
economic benefits of beauty, see Funny Girl 208
marketability of beauty; social Hollywood 180,193-94
mobility; wealth influence of 161,164, 222, 227-28
Eden, Anthony 173-75 Marty 184-85, 208
education 4 politicians 168-69
Edward VII (Prince of Wales/'Bertie'), stars 179-88,192-94,199-200, 208, 228
10-11,135-36 The Way We Were 208-9
eighteenth century 46-47,143-45 Fimmel, Travis 228
portraits 63, 78, 82,117,145 Finck, Henry Theophilus 5, 7, 112-14
see also under acting profession Finck, Mrs (Abbie Helen Cushman)
Eliot, George 31 113-14
Elizabeth I, Empress of Russia 67, 68, 69 Firenzuola, Agnolo 27, 41, 43-45
Elizabeth I, Queen of England and Firth, Colin 228, 229
Ireland 6, 51-52 Fisher, Kitty 82
enriching quality of beauty 21-22 Fisher, Sir Warren 176
eroticism, see lust; sexual Fissner, Louis 83
arousal/eroticism Fletcher, Ella Adelia 163
Etcoff, Nancy C. 222 footmen 177-78
ethnicity 8, 20,195-200, 207, 221, 222 Foreman, Amanda 77-78
Eugenie, Empress of France 159 Fourment, Helene 17, 18, 19
Evans, Richard 221 Fourment, Suzanne 18
evolutionary/biological perspective 10,12, Fox, Charles James 89
222, 226 France 54, 60-61, 62-66, 72, 85,158-59
exercise 166, 230 Comedie Francaise 137,138
fashion 161-62
face and figure 7-9,125-26 Parisian demi-monde 120-30 passim
Fairbanks, Douglas 181 see also named individuals
Fairchilds, Dr Cissie 79-80 Francesca, Piero della 6
Farren, Elizabeth 87, 88-89 Francis I, King of France 146
fashion 4-7,124-25, 132-34,161-62, Franco, Nicolo 43, 44
222-23 Franco, Veronica 49, 72, 92, 200
Europe versus US 192 Fraser, Lady Antonia 51, 91,159
legs 162,166-67 Fregoso, Federigo 42-43
pop 195 Funny Girl (film) 208
see also models
fatness 36, 39,148 Galsworthy, John 176
artistic representation 17-19 Ganymede 30
see also body weight; slimming diets; Gara, Larry 154
slimness Garbo, Greta (Gustafsson) 179-80,183,
feminism 6, 20-21, 22-23,198, 223, 226 201
and cosmetics 165 Garfield, James 149
Miss America beauty contest 7 Garrick, David 78, 85-86, 87, 88, 89
post-feminist perspective 22-23 Gascar, Henri 54
fictional characters 9,14, 31, 219-20 Geoffrin, Madame Marie-Therese 73-74
male 46, 96-97, 99-100, 219 Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire 77-78
Scarlett O'Hara 183-84, 224 Gerard, Francois 77
Fielding, Henry 46, 80, 96-98 Gere, Richard 228, 229
Filmore, Millard 147-48 Gibbon, Edward 75
 INDEX 2/1

Gilbert, Marie Dolores Eliza Rosanna heroes and heroines 35-36, 37

(Lola Montez) 121, 125, 128, 129 Hertzigova, Eva 228
god(s) Hickman, Kate 79, 124
love of 35 Hicks, Molly 102, 103-5
and mortals 28 high status 4, 26, 107, 177, 221, 232
Goldsmith, Oliver 93 Hill, Emma 140-41
Gonzago, Elisabetta di 41, 42 Hogarth, William 144
goodness 37, 43,167 Holbein, Hans 53
Gourdan, Madame 65 Hollywood 180,193-94
grandes horizontals 119-29 passim, 227 Homer 30
Grant, Hugh 229 homosexuality 26, 28, 30-31, 32, 60-61
Grant, Ulysses S. 149 Hooke, Robert 93
Greece, see Ancient Greece Hoover, Herbert 170
Gregorievitch, Gregory (Orlov) 67-68 Horn, Pamela 81
Greuze, Jean Baptiste 15, 75 Hornby, Lesley (Twiggy) 6, 200, 201,
Grimmet, Gordon 177-78, 179 203-5
'grooming'/beauty guides 37-38,162-64, horsewomanship 55, 127, 128
166-67, 213> 214 Howard, Catherine 53
Gros, Antoine 117 Hufton, Professor Olwen 98
Guerin, Jean-Urbain 78 humanism 40-41
Guglielmi, Rodolfo (Rudolph Valentino) Hume, David 74
182-83, 188 Humphrey, Hubert 216, 231
guilt and lust 33, 34-35 Hurley, Liz 228
Gunning, Elizabeth and Maria 114-15
Guralnick, Peter 188-89 ill-favoured, taxonomy of beauty 13
Gustafsson, Greta (Garbo) 179-80,183, 'inner light' 2, 3
201 intellectual women, see salonieres
Gustavus II, King of Sweden 76 international cultural revolution (19605)
Gwyn, Nell 50, 57~58, 59> 7i> 84-85, 123, 191-92
200 international love affairs 192-93
Irving, Henry (Brodribb, John Henry) 137
Hague, William 148, 231 Irving, Washington 148
hair 165, 193-94, 198-99, 204 Italian Renaissance 40-44 passim
colour 6-7, 8, 112, 113
male 148-49, 206, 223 Jachmann, Therese (Blanche/'La Paiva')
Hardcastle, Elizabeth 108-9 122, 123-24
Harding, Warren 169-70 James, Duke of Hamilton 114-15
Harle, Catherine 214 James, Duke of Monmouth 49-50, 61-62,
Harrison, Benjamin 149 144-45
Harrison, George 206 James I 60
Harrison, William 147 James II 61, 62
Hatfield, Elaine and Sprecher, Susan Jardine, Lisa 93
23-24 Jebb, Camilla 74
Haydon, Benjamin 156 Jefferson, Thomas 147
Hayes, Mrs 92 Johanssen, Robert W. 152-53
Heller, Alexander 150-51 Johnson, Andrew 149
Hemmings, David 194 Jordan, Pat 24
Henry IV 54
Henry VIII 51 Keats, John 2
wives 50, 52-53 Kennedy, Jacqueline 216
2/2 IT

Kennedy, John F. 216, 217 McManus, Michelle 229

Kinnock, Neil 231 Madison, James 148
Madonna 229
'La Barucci' (Giulia Beneni) 122,125,129 make-up, see cosmetics
La Belle Epoque 121-30 passim male actors/film stars 85-86,181-83,193,
La Belle Otero (Caroline Otero) 121,123, 199-200, 228
125,128,139 male celebrities 205-7, 228-29
La Belle Paule 39-40 male fictional characters 46, 96-97,
La Brunyere, Jean de 45 99-100, 219
Lambert, Ellen Zetzel 22 male hair 148-49, 206, 223
Langtry, Lillie 134-36, 200 male legs 195
Leblanc, Leonide 122,125 male models 214
Leboeuf, Julie ('Marguerite Bellanger') male servants 79-80, 80-81,177-78
122 male sex workers 92-93, 229
Lee, Jennie 215 male shops assistants 82-84
legs 162,166-67, 213-14 male ugliness 93,106-7,144,151
male 195 male versus female beauty 16-17, 35-36,
Leigh, Vivian 183-84, 224 4i> 44> 45> 46
Lely, Sir Peter 56-58 nineteenth century 2-3,164-65
Lennon, John 206 twentieth century 23-24,161,165-66
Leroy, Georges 63 contemporary celebrities 228-29
Letessier, Caroline 122,124 sex appeal 50-51,188-89
Leuchtenberg, W. E. 170 social psychology studies 209-13
life chances 59-60, 220-21 'tasks' and 'roles' 223-24
Life (magazine) 194 see also men
Lincoln, Abraham 146,149-52,153-54 Malmesbury, William 36
Lindsay, John 216 Mancini, Hortense 49, 59
Liszt, Franz 128 Manet, Edouard 123
Lloyd George, David 157-58 Manley, Mrs Mary 83
Lollobrigida, Gina 193 mannequins 139-40
Louis XIII 60-61 Mansfield, Katherine 100
Louis XIV 11, 51, 54, 55-56, 57 Marie Teresa (daughter of Philip IV,
Louis XV 51, 64, 65 King of Spain) 54
Louis-Philippe, King of France 121, 122-23 Marinelli, Giovanni 37-39
love marketability of beauty 204, 205, 207-8, 212
of God 35 marriage 95-118
international love affairs 192-93 see also sexual partner, choice of
and marriage 95 Marsh, Jan 140
'platonic love' 26 Marshall, Sally 106-7
Luigini, Federigo 43 Marty (film) 184-85, 208
Luna, Donyale 200 Masson, Georgina 66-67
lust 26, 27, 33 Mastroianni, Marcello 193
and guilt 33> 34~35 'Mata Hari' (Margarethe Zelle) 130-32
see also sexual arousal/eroticism 'matching hypothesis', social psychology
Lyon, Emma (Lady Hamilton) 80, 91 study 209-11
Mayhew, Henry 83
McCartney, Paul 206 medieval period 25, 35-38
Macdonald, Georgie 140-41 men
MacDonald, Ramsay 172-73 beautiful 24, 60-62, 67-68, 98-100,
McGregor, Ewan 228 115-16
 INDEX 2/3

disability/deformity/disease 67, 68, 93, male versus female beauty 153-54,

120-21, 172 162-63, 164-65
and marriage 98-108,110-12,113-14, portraits 123,125,128,129, 135,136, 140,
115-16 156, 159
and power 20-21 Pre-Raphaelites 14,15, 135, 136, 140-41
self-made 177 Nixon, Richard M. 216
see also entries beginning male nose shaper166
Mercier, Sebastien 89-90 novels, see fictional characters
Met de Bles, Henrick 37
Mignard, Pierre 54, 56 Odium, Hortense 164-65
Millais, John Everett 135, 136 Olivier, Laurence 183-84
Miss America beauty contest 7, 167-68 Omar, Rageh 20
Mitchell, Margaret 224 O'Neill, W. L. 216
modelling agencies/schools 201, 214 opera 119-20, 126
models 179-80, 201-2 Opie, Amelia 120
artists' 72,127,136, 140-41 Otero, Caroline (La Belle Otero) 121,123,
black 196,197, 200 125,128,139
male 228 Ozy, Alice 125, 129
mannequins 139-40
photographic 200-6 paganism 26
Molyneux, Michael 204 Palmerston, Viscount (Henry John
Monroe, James 147 Temple) 155-56,157
Monroe, Marilyn (Norma Jean Baker) Paris Match (magazine) 192-93
185-88,193, 200 Parisian demi-monde 120-30 passim
Montefeltro, Duke Federigo di 41 Parisian fashion 161-62
Montez, Lola (Gilbert, Marie Dolores Parr, Catherine 53
Eliza Rosanna) 121,125,128,129 Pearl, Cora (Eliza Emma Couch) 122,124,
Moore, Owen 181 129
More, Sir Thomas 5, 40-41, 43 peasants 25
Morris, William 140 Pepys, Samuel 57, 58, 82, 84-85
Morris-Jones, Graham 204 Perkins, Anne 215
Movies, see film(s) personable, taxonomy of beauty 12-13
Muhammad Ali (Cassius Clay) 207 Peter the Great (Tsar Peter I) 67, 68
Munby, A. J. 141 Petitot, Jean 54
Mussolini, Benito 11 Philippe I, King of France 36
photographic models 200-6
Napoleon I 116, 117-18,162 photography 150
Napoleon III (President Louis Napoleon) Ebony 198-99
121,122-23,132,143,158-59 pin-ups 186, 187
natural beauty 4 social psychology study 211-12
Necker, Anne-Louise-Germaine physical appearance
(Madame de Stae'l) 75, 76, 77 and character 26, 36-37, 43
Necker, Madame (Susan Curchod) 75 corporeal/bodily beauty 28-30
Nemesis 60, 61 and other attributes 1-4, 22-23, 220
see also tragedy soul and body 30-32
Newbold, Francis 176 types 8,14-15, 20,193
Nicholas, Donald 145 valuing of beauty 19-20,179,191,
nineteenth century 121-30,155-58,163 212-13, 224-25, 232
acting profession 121, 122,129-30, wealth and enhancement of 37-38
133-39
274 IT

physical disability/deformity/disease 13, professional success 214-15

98, i94-95> 217-18 prostitution, see sex workers/prostitutes
cruel attitudes towards 26, 36-37, 93 puritanism 34-35
men 67, 68, 93, 120-21,172
women 74, 93,126 Quant, Mary 195
Pia, Emilia 41, 42
Picasso, Pablo 11 Racine, Jean 85
Pickford, Mary (Gladys Smith) 180-81 Razumovsky, Alexis 67
Pierce, Franklin 149,154-55 Reagan, Ronald 217, 231
Pimlott, Ben 176 Reaves, Keanu 228
pin-ups 186, 187 Recamier, Madame (Juliette Bernard)
Pitman, Joanna 8 76-77
Pitt, William the Elder, ist Earl of redheads 6-7
Chatham 143-44 Redford, Robert 208
Plato 26-28, 31, 33-34 Renaissance, Italian 40-44 passim
'platonic love' 26 'reputed great beauties' 49-50
Platonic and Renaissance ideals 41-43 Reynolds, Sir Joshua 14,15, 82, 87,144
Platonic-Christian morality 39 Richelieu, Cardinal 60-61
pleasure 41 Roberts, Keith 19
Plessis, Rose Alphonsine (Marie Roberts, Robert 162
Duplessis) 122, 125-26, 129 Romans 15, 32
poets 2,119-20,120-21,176 Roosevelt, Franklin D. 170-72,173
Poiret, Paul 162 Roosevelt, Theodore 149,170
Poisson, Jeanne Antoinette (Madame de Rosenthal, Margaret F. 72
Pompadour) 50, 62-64 Rossetti, Dante Gabriel 140-41
Poitier, Sydney 199-200 Rounding, Virginia 123-24
politicians/political leaders 143-60, 230-31 Rubens, Peter Paul 15-19, 221
British 155-58, 172-75, 176-78, 215, 231 Russell, Lilian 133-34
France 158-59 Russell, William Howard 151-52
US 143, 145-55, 168-72, 173, 231 Russia 67-69
Polk, James 149 Ryder, Dudley 106-7
Poniatowsky, Count Stanislaus 67
Pope, Alexander 93 Sabatier, Apollonie (Aglae-Josephine) 122,
popular culture 191-92,195, 225-26, 227-29 127
Porter, Jane 120 St Augustine 27, 32-34
portraits salonieres 71, 72-79 passim, 121,127,130
sixteenth century 6, 50, 51-52, 53, 72 Salter, James 6-7
seventeenth century 54, 56-58, 73 Saltikov, Serge 67
eighteenth century 63, 78, 82,117,145 Scarry, Ellen 10
nineteenth century 123,125,128,129, Schneider, Hortense (Catherine/Belle
135,136,140,156,159 Helene) 119-20,121
photographic 124,133,137,138-39,140 Schwarzenegger, Arnold 231
post-modern perspective 22-23 sculptures 127
Potemkin, Gregory 68 Greek 16-17, 30
power 4,10,11, 51, 69, 71 self-made men 177
and men 20-21 self-worth i
and wealth 59-64 selling 'occupations' 71
Pre-Raphaelites 14,15, 135, 136, 140-41 shop assistants 81-84, 119, 122, 127, 139,
Presley, Elvis 188-89 179
Prince Louis of Battenberg 136 servants 79-81, 102, 177-79
 INDEX 275

female 80, 81, 178-79 high status 4, 26, 107,177, 221, 232
male 79-81,177-78 see also social mobility
seduced 80, 90, 91 social mobility 75, 79-83, 91-92,114-15
service 'occupations' 71 twentieth century 177-78, 179,180,
Seward, William H. 152 185-86
sex appeal/sexual attractiveness i, 50-51, see also social class
121,179, 213, 222-23, 224 social psychology research 209-11, 222
male 51,120,182-83 Socrates 28, 30-31
Renaissance 41 Socratic dialogues 27-29
sex symbols 187,193 soldiers 149
sex workers/prostitutes 71, 72, 89-91,141, soul and body 30-32, 39
225 sports stars 207
see also courtesans; grandes horizontals Starr, Ringo 206
sexual arousal/eroticism 11-12,18-19, 24, Steiner, Wendy 22, 220
42, 44-45 Stendhal 11
see also lust Stevenson, Frances 158
sexual freedom 226 Streisand, Barbara 208
sexual partner, choice of 25-26, 46-47, Strong, Sir Roy 50
95-98,107-8 Stubbes, Philip 95-96
see also marriage Sullivan, Mark 169,170,172
sexual pleasure 10,11, 41 surface beauty 4, 9,191, 226
sexual success i, 144,155-56 Susann, Jacqueline 9, 31
sexuality i, 14, 26,178-79
19608191-92, 200-1 Taft, William Howard 148
Seymour, Elizabeth 116 talent 21, 22, 55, 63-64, 66, 72, 84-85
Seymour, Jane 53 film stars 181-82
Seymour, Sir Thomas 53 tallness 144,146,147-48,149,150,153
Shaftesbury, Lord 155-56 taxonomies
Shakespeare, William 27, 45-46 beauty 12-13
shop assistants 81-4,119,122,127,139,179 'occupations' 71
show business 'occupations' 71 Taylor, Zachary 149
see also acting profession television 19-20, 174-75, !92> 222
Shrimpton, Jean 192, 200, 201, 202-3 advertising 201
Siddall, Lizzie 140-41 presenters 215
Siddons, Sarah 89 Temple, Henry John (Viscount
singing/singers 197, 208, 228, 229 Palmerston) 155-56, 157
opera 119-20,126 temptation 37
sixteenth century 37-46 Tennant, Shila 228
portraits 6, 50, 51-52, 53, 72 Terry, Ellen 136, 137,139
sixties (19608 cultural revolution) 191-218 Thackeray, William Makepeace 99-100
Skinner, Cornelia Otis 129-30 Thinness, see body weight; slimming
slimming diets 119,120,148, 213, 230 diets; slimness
slimness 36,113-14, 202 Thomas, John Bird 83-84
see also body weight; fatness; slimming Tintoretto 72
diets tragedy 59, 66, 82,182-83, 187-88
Smith, Gladys (Mary Pickford) 180-81 see also Nemesis
Smithson, Hugh, Duke of transcendental concept of beauty 1-2
Northumberland 115-16 Trissino, Giovan Giorgio 43
social class 32, 33,121-23, 126, 167, 175-76 Trollope, Anthony 9, 31
(19605) 191, 201-2, 203-4, 205-6 'true beauty' 3, 28
276 IT

Truman, Harry 172 voice 120,143-44, !68,172,188,192, 229-30

Turner, Edward 100-5 Voltaire, Francis-Marie Arouet 12
twentieth century
19605 cultural revolution 191-218 Wahlberg, Marc 228
male versus female beauty 23-24,161, Walpole, Horace 78
165-66 Walter, Lucy 49, 59, 61, 62
social mobility 177-78,179,180, Walters, Barbara 215
185-86 Walters, Catherine ('Skittles') 122,124,128
see also named individuals and Ward, Ned 82
technologies Washington, George 146,147
Twiggy (Lesley Hornby) 6, 200, 201, Watts, G. F. 136
203-5 The Way We Were (film) 208-9
Tyler, John 147 wealth 4,10,11, 26, 191, 221, 227, 232
earnings 20
ugliness and enhancement of physical
cruel attitudes towards 26, 36-37, 43 appearance 37-38
male 93,106-7,144> 151 and ethnicity 196
United States grandes horizontales 119,123,124,125,
Hollywood 180,193-94 126-27
see also named films and film stars and marriage 96, 98,107,157
political leaders 143,145-55,168-72, and power 59-64
173> 231 Weir, Alison 50, 52
self-made men 177 Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of
versus Europe 192 78-79
Whistler, James MacNeil 136
Vadim, Roger 192,193 White, Horace 151
Valentino, Rudolph (Guglielmi, Rodolfo) Wilde, Oscar 136
182-83,188 Wilding, Alexa 140
Valla, Lorenzo 41 Wilkes, John 144
valuing of beauty 19-20, 179,191, 212-13, Wilson, Francis 79
224-25, 232 Wilson, Harriette 78-79, 224
Van Buren, Martin 148-49 Wilson, Woodrow 169
Vasilikov, Alexander 68 Wolf, Naomi 20-21, 227
Venard, Elisabeth-Celeste ('Mogador') women
122,126-27 19605 liberation of 200-1
Venus de Milo 30 and marriage 106,108-9, m>112
Verdi, Giuseppe 126 subordination of 20-21, 31-32
Vernet, Marie 139 see also feminism; male versus female
Versace, Gianni 228 beauty
Victorian era 121,155-58 Worontsov, Elizabeth 68
Vienne, Romain 125-26 Worth, Charles 139
Vienot, Edouard 125 Wright, Charlotte M. 232
Villiers, Barbara (Lady
Castlemaine/Duchess of Cleveland) 49, Yates, Mary Ann 86
56-57> 58, 62 youthfulness 166,195
Villiers, George, Duke of Buckingham 49,
60 Zelle, Margarethe ('Mata Hari') 130-32
Virgin birth' 26 Zellweger, Renee 229
Visconti, Primi 54-55 Zola, Emile 123
Vitti, Monica 193 Zubov, Plato 68