A patch was simply a small bit of black silk sticking-plaister, placed on the face, which looked all the fairer for the contrast. Each lady placed the patch to suit the expression of her countenance. In the midst of a promenade or street a great lady might be seen suddenly to stop, to open the patch-box she carried everywhere with her, to survey herself in the mirror which lined its lid, and quickly to replace a patch that had fallen off. The fashion of patches was not, as might be imagined, a production of the seventeenth century. It was a reminiscence of early Roman times, during which even orators wore patches when speaking from the Tribune. We may truly say that there is nothing new under the sun. It is said that certain plaisters ordered as a remedy for headache had originally suggested these black spots, and what had been at first prescribed for health’s sake, was retained as an aid and accessory to the beauty of ladies who wished for artificial attractions. After endeavouring to animate and improve the countenance by patches, the next step was to conceal those faces to which nature had been unkind behind a mask; or else to envelope beauty in mystery, by making its presence doubtful, and exciting the curiosity of the incredulous. Masks originated in the reign of Henri II. They reappeared in tenfold force under Louis XIII. Ladies avoided recognition by wearing black velvet masks, lined with white satin, that folded in two like a pocket-book. There were no strings with which to fix them on, but a slender silver bar ending in a button was fastened on the inside, and putting this between her teeth, the wearer could hold her mask in its place. Moreover, the tone of the voice was so altered by a mask, that many persons, anxious to avoid satirical remark, kept on their masks in public promenades, at balls, and even in church. The poet Scarron describes the prettiest kind of mask in his “Épître Burlesque” to Mme. de Hautefort:— “Parlerai-je de ces fantasques Qui portent dentelle à leurs masques, En chamarrant les trous des yeux, Croyant que le masque est au mieux? Dirai-je qu’en la canicule, Qu’à la cave même l’on brûle, Elles portent panne et velours? Mais ce n’est pas à tous les jours; Qu’au lieu de mouches les coquettes Couvrent leur museau de paillettes, Ont en bouche cannelle et clous, Afin d’avoir le flaire doux, Ou du fenouil que je ne mente, Ou herbe forte comme mente.”[28] Masks called “loups” were supposed to protect the complexion from sunburn, but this was a mere pretext; the real object was to conceal the face of the wearer. Some ladies thus concealed their plainness, and the loup was also called “cache-laid,” or hide-ugly.