In those palmy but dark days of the drama, when gas and lime-lights were not, the disguising of the mischief wrought by time must have been a comparatively easy task.
However, supply, as usual, has followed demand, and there are now traders dealing specially in the materials for making-up, in theatrical cosmetics of the best possible kind at the lowest possible prices: "Superfine rouge, rose for lips, blanc (liquid and in powder), pencils for eyebrows, creme de l'imperatrice and fleur-de-riz for softening the skin," &c.

Further, there are the hairdressers, who provide theatrical wigs of all kinds, and advertise the merits of their "old men's bald pates," which must seem a strange article of sale to those unversed in the mysteries of stage dressing-rooms.

One inventive person, it may be noted, loudly proclaims the merits of a certain "spirit gum" he has concocted, using which, as he alleges, "no actor need fear swallowing his moustache"-- so runs the form of his advertisement.
Of Mademoiselle Guirnard, the famous French opera-dancer, it is related that her portrait, painted in early youth, always rested upon her dressing-table.

Every morning, during many years, she carefully made up her face to bring her looks in as close accord as possible with the loveliness of her picture.

For an incredible time her success is reported to have been something marvellous.