Nay, the Mexicans, indeed, were of opinion that the lady at least ought to continue those cares of her person even after marriage.

There is extant, in Sahagun's 'History of New Spain,' the advice of an Aztec or Mexican mother to her daughter, in which she says, 'That your husband may not take you in dislike, adorn yourself, wash yourself, and let your garments be clean.' It is true that the good lady adds, 'Do it in moderation; since if every day you are washing yourself and your clothes, the world will say that you are over-delicate; and particular people will call you--TAPETZON TINEMAXOCH!' What those words precisely mean," added my father, modestly, "I cannot say, since I never had the opportunity to acquire the ancient Aztec language,--but something very opprobrious and horrible, no doubt." "I dare say a philosopher like Signor Riccabocca," said my uncle, "was not himself very tapetzon tine--what d' ye call it ?--and a good healthy English wife, that poor affectionate Jemima, was thrown away upon him." "Roland," said my father, "you don't like foreigners; a respectable prejudice, and quite natural in a man who has been trying his best to hew them in pieces and blow them up into splinters.

But you don't like philosophers either,--and for that dislike you have no equally good reason." "I only implied that they are not much addicted to soap and water," said my uncle.
"A notable mistake.

Many great philosophers have been very great beaux.
Aristotle was a notorious fop.

Buffon put on his best laced ruffles when he sat down to write, which implies that he washed his hands first.
Pythagoras insists greatly on the holiness of frequent ablutions; and Horace--who, in his own way, was as good a philosopher as any the Romans produced--takes care to let us know what a neat, well-dressed, dapper little gentleman he was.