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Adornment carries us away; jewels and gold cover Everything; the girl herself is the least part of herself.
With gold and jewels all is covered, And an exotic headdress wins us over; (While she is the least part of herself) Such baubles utterly undo us.
Why do they stay indoors for so long at a time, sometimes a whole winter, allowing themselves to be seen only by torchlight or candlelight, then venture out after every possible preparation, when they have no business except to show themselves?
They come to see, they come to be seen.
For what is beauty if it is not seen? What use is being seen, if not admired? And even admired, unless desired in love?
Why do they walk with that affected gait for which Philo the Jew reproaches them, and practise—I say it again—such gestures, such apish, ridiculous, indecent dress and Sybaritic tricks, “paint for the cheeks, rouge for the veins, white lead for the brow, rules for the eyes,” and so on? Why wear those sweet perfumes, powders and ointments in public, and flock so frequently to sermons? Is it for devotion? Or rather, as Basil tells them, to meet their sweethearts and see the fashions? For, as he says, they commonly come with such elaborate airs, gestures and attire as though bound for a dancing school, a play or a brothel—places more suited to them than a church.
When such a she-priest comes to say her Mass, Twenty to one, they all forget their prayers.
“They turn those holy temples, consecrated to godly martyrs and religious uses, into shops of shamelessness, dens of whores and thieves, little better than brothels.” When we see such things done daily—their husbands bankrupt, if not cuckolded, their wives loose, their daughters unchaste—and hear of the dissolute acts we hear of every day, how should we think otherwise? What is their purpose but to deceive and entice young men? As tow catches fire, such alluring sights produce their effect; how can it be otherwise?
When Venus stood before Anchises in her costly robes, as Homer relates in one of his Hymns, he was captivated at once:
When Jove’s daughter stood before him, Anchises, Seeing her, marvelled at her beauty and wondrous clothes; For she wore a robe more brilliant than rays of fire. She also wore gleaming chains and winding coils; Beautiful necklaces encircled her tender neck, Golden and richly varied.——
When Venus first stood before Anchises, He marvelled to see her in her finery; For she wore a hood as red as fire, Glittering chains and coils like twisted ivy; About her tender neck were costly brooches, And golden necklaces, enamelled settings.
So too when Medea first appeared before Jason, attended by her nymphs and ladies, as Apollonius describes her:
A radiance like fire followed them all; Such brilliance shone from their golden borders, And kindled sweet desire in his eyes.
A lustre followed them like flaming fire; Such beams came from their golden borders That they stirred sweet desire in his eyes.
We have a similar account in Plutarch: queens came and offered themselves to Antony with various gifts and enticing ornaments. Such Asiatic attractions, such extraordinary joy and festivity, so beguiled the Romans that no one could restrain himself; everything became delight and pleasure. The women took on the shapes of Bacchus, the boys those of satyrs and Pans. Antony himself was utterly besotted with Cleopatra’s sweet words, love-charms, beauty and pleasing dress. When she sailed along the river Cydnus with incredible pomp in a gilded ship, dressed as Venus, her maids as the Graces and her pages as so many Cupids, Antony was amazed and carried beyond himself.
Heliodorus, in book 1, introduces Demaenete, Cnemon’s stepmother, driven quite mad with love for him when she saw him in his scarves, rings, robes and garland. It was Judith’s slippers that ravished Holofernes’s eyes. Cardan is not ashamed to confess that the first time he saw his wife, dressed all in white, he admired her and immediately fell in love. If these outward ornaments had no such power, why does Naomi advise Ruth how to please Boaz? And Judith, seeking to captivate Holofernes, washed and anointed herself with sweet ointments, dressed her hair and put on costly clothes.
Extravagance of this kind has been excessive in former times: almost no man went out without curled hair and perfume,
And Crispinus sweating with morning perfume— As much as two funerals together scarcely give off.
One spent as much as two funerals at once, and wore perfumed hair: “their grey locks scented with roses and Assyrian nard.” What extraordinary things Suetonius relates about Caligula’s extravagance in this matter! And Pliny, in books 12 and 13. Read further in Dioscorides, Ulmus, Arnoldus and Rondelet, On Cosmetics and Adornment; for it is now a craft, as it was in antiquity: “there are workshops where perfumes are concocted,” as Seneca records.
Women are bad and men worse; there is no difference at all between their times and ours. “Good conduct,” as Seneca complains, “is extinguished by wantonness. In decking themselves out, men surpass women; they wear prostitutes’ colours, and do not walk, but strut and dance.” Masculine woman, feminine man: more like actors, butterflies, baboons, apes and grotesques than men.
Moreover, our clothes are so ridiculous and so excessively costly that, as Jerome said long ago, “A single thread contains the price of country estates; a million sesterces are woven into one strand.” It is an ordinary thing to put a thousand oaks and a hundred oxen into a suit of clothes, to wear a whole manor on one’s back. With shoe-ribbons, sword-belts, fastening laces, caps and feathers, scarves, collars, cuffs, and so on, entire inheritances are soon consumed.