kinswomen to Mistris Dinghen to _learn how to starche_; her usuall price
was at that time, foure or five pound, to teach them how _to starch_,
and twenty shillings how to _seeth starch_."

Thus Italy, Holland, and France supplied us with fashions and
refinements. But in those days there were, as I have shown from
Puttenham, as _extravagant dressers_ as any of their present supposed
degenerate descendants. Stowe affords us another curious extract.
"Divers noble personages made them _ruffes, a full quarter of a yeard
deepe_, and two lengthe in one ruffe. This _fashion_ in _London_ was
called the _French fashion_; but when Englishmen came to _Paris_, the
_French_ knew it not, and in derision called it _the English monster_."
An exact parallel this of many of our own Parisian modes in the present
day.

This was the golden period of cosmetics. The beaux of that day, it is
evident, used the abominable art of painting their faces as well as the
women. Our old comedies abound with perpetual allusions to oils,
tinctures, quintessences, pomatums, perfumes, paint white and red, &c.
One of their prime cosmetics was a frequent use of the _bath_, and the
application of _wine_. Strutt quotes from an old MS. a recipe to make
the face of a beautiful red colour. The person was to be in a bath that
he might perspire, and afterwards wash his face with wine, and "so
should be both faire and roddy." In Mr. Lodge's "Illustrations of
British History," the Earl of Shrewsbury, who had the keeping of the
unfortunate Queen of Scots, complains of the expenses of the queen for
_bathing in wine_, and requires a further allowance. A learned Scotch
professor informed me that _white wine_ was used for these purposes.
They also made a bath of _milk_. Elder beauties _bathed in wine_, to get
rid of their wrinkles; and perhaps not without reason, wine being a
great astringent. Unwrinkled beauties _bathed in milk_, to preserve the
softness and sleekness of the skin. Our venerable beauties of the
Elizabethan age were initiated coquettes; and the mysteries of their
toilet might be worth unveiling.

The reign of Charles II. was the dominion of French fashions. In some
respects the taste was a little lighter, but the moral effect of dress,
and which no doubt it has, was much worse. The dress was very
inflammatory; and the nudity of the beauties of the portrait-painter,
Sir Peter Lely, has been observed. The queen of Charles II. exposed her
breast and shoulde