about nakedness to an unreasoning but imperative
convention is the tendency to prudishness.
This, as we know, is a form of pseudo-modesty which,
being a convention, and not a natural feeling,
is capable of unlimited extension. It is
by no means confined to modern times or to Christian
Europe. The ancient Hebrews were not entirely
free from prudishness, and we find in the Old Testament
that by a curious euphemism the sexual organs
are sometimes referred to as “the feet.”
The Turks are capable of prudishness. So, indeed,
were even the ancient Greeks. “Dion
the philosopher tells us,” remarks Clement
of Alexandria (
Stromates, Bk. IV, Ch.
XIX) “that a certain woman, Lysidica, through
excess of modesty, bathed in her clothes, and
that Philotera, when she was to enter the bath,
gradually drew back her tunic as the water covered
her naked parts; and then rising by degrees, put
it on.” Mincing prudes were found among
the early Christians, and their ways are graphically
described by St. Jerome in one of his letters to Eustochium:
“These women,” he says, “speak between
their teeth or with the edge of the lips, and
with a lisping tongue, only half pronouncing their
words, because they regard as gross whatever is natural.
Such as these,” declares Jerome, the scholar
in him overcoming the ascetic, “corrupt
even language.” Whenever a new and
artificial “modesty” is imposed upon savages
prudery tends to arise. Haddon describes
this among the natives of Torres Straits, where
even the children now suffer from exaggerated prudishness,
though formerly absolutely naked and unashamed
(
Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres
Straits, vol. v, p. 271).
The nineteenth century, which witnessed the triumph
of timidity and prudery in this matter, also produced
the first fruitful germ of new conceptions of nakedness.
To some extent these were embodied in the great Romantic
movement. Rousseau, indeed, had placed no special
insistence on nakedness as an element of the return
to Nature which he preached so influentially.
A new feeling in this matter emerged, however, with
characteristic extravagance, in some of the episodes
of the Revolution, while in Germany in the pioneering
Lucinde of Friedrich Schlegel, a characteristic
figure in the Romantic movement, a still unfamiliar
conception of the body was set forth in a serious and
earnest spirit.
In England, Blake with his strange and flaming genius,
proclaimed a mystical gospel which involved the spiritual
glorification of the body and contempt for the civilized
worship of clothes ("As to a modern man,” he
wrote, “stripped from his load of clothing he
is like a dead corpse"); while, later, in America,
Thoreau and Whitman and Burroughs asserted, still
more definitely, a not dissimilar message concerning
the need of returning to Nature.