  Title: Our Girls Author: Dio Lewis Language: English Produced by John Rodzvilla and the Summer 2012 Electronic Publishing Overview Class (Ryan Ayers, Courtney Coats, Chelsea Cohen, Elaina DeBoard, Katrina Gravel, Susanna Kellogg, Bryan Lawver, Alexis Mackintosh-Zebrowski, Melissa Malone, Anna Meier, Jennifer Riley, Kruthika Subramanyam) at Emerson College, Boston, MA. Our Girls That her hand may be given with dignity, she must be able to stand To Will they listen to another of my "Talks about Health?" Contents INTRODUCTION Introduction My Dear Public:— I write about the girls because I want to, and because, after a good deal of self-examination, I candidly believe I have something to say about them. I have always been deeply interested in the girls; when a youngster nothing so fascinated me; and, as I turn the corner, to go with the old folks, I can't see that my interest in girls is a whit less earnest. When I was occupied with the practice of my profession, my interest in the girls was so well-known, that I had an unusual number among my patients. During the years of my public lecturing, half, at least, of my audiences were composed exclusively of girls and women. When I established the school at Lexington, it was a school for girls, and, during four years, I lived in the midst of a large family of fine girls. It was a sweet, a delightful experience. My hopes of the future rest upon the girls. My patriotism clings to the girls. I believe America's future pivots on this great woman revolution. I am not a Yankee, but I believe in Yankees. This first great success in self-government, is a success, because guided by Yankee brains. I tremble lest the rudder should fall to hands, which, in other lands, have been found utterly incompetent. The Yankee brain has realized the brightest hopes of the political seer. The United States Government must not, cannot part with its wise, prudent helmsman. Is it not an alarming fact, that, among Yankees, marriage is becoming unfashionable, and children still more unfashionable; that, among the very few children born, so many die in infancy; and still again, that, among the very small number who escape the perils of childhood, so small a proportion are endowed with that vigorous health on which alone can be planted a vigorous manhood. I am so sure that I know where the trouble lies, and so strong is my confidence that I can contribute something toward its removal, I cannot refrain from speaking. May the Good Father help me to write in a truly father-spirit to those dear, beautiful girls, upon whom we are all so dependent for present happiness, and upon whom the future America must rest. And if any thought shall appear in this volume worthy their attention, may they listen, think, act. I have discussed many health topics, but this work, addressed to the girls of America, I shall fill with my whole heart, and send out, with a yearning for its success, which I have felt in connection with no other literary venture. GIRLS' BOOTS AND SHOES.One evening, at Lexington, I was discussing before the assembled school the subject of shoes for women, and had been remarking that the soles were uniformly too narrow, when Miss B. spoke up:— "Why, Doctor, my soles are perfectly immense. Why, they are twice as broad as my foot." "Miss B., will you be kind enough to take off one of your shoes, and send it forward?" It was cheerfully and quickly done. "Henry, please bring the rule? Now we will measure this sole. "Miss B., I find this sole is two and one-half inches wide; do you think your foot is narrower than that?" "Oh! a great deal. That shoe sole is twice as wide as my foot." "Miss B., will you please come to the platform a moment?" So, limping along, one shoe off and one shoe on, she presented herself. "Miss B., will you be kind enough to put your foot upon that sheet of white paper? Now hold up the other foot, and let your full weight press upon this one. There, now, hold still a minute, and let me draw the pencil around your foot. There, that will do. Now we will measure this mark, and see just how broad your foot is. Why, Miss B., I find that your foot is three inches and three-quarters broad; —no, stop, it is three inches and seven-eighths;—no, stop again, it really is four inches broad. Now what do you think? You may take the rule and measure yourself if you doubt it. The sole is two inches and a half, and your foot is four inches broad!" "But, Doctor, it is four inches broad only when it is spread out by standing my whole weight on this one foot." "Yes, Miss B., but that is exactly what takes place every time you step. For example, when, in walking, you lift up the right foot and push it forward, your whole weight is not only on the left foot, but, pushing with the left foot in propelling the body forward, you have, in addition to your weight upon that foot, the effort of pushing forward with it, which makes the toes still broader, and that takes place every time you step. So I presume when you are walking briskly, that if your foot were at liberty to spread, it would reach four inches and a quarter. "This shoe sole, which you think is immense, is two inches and a half wide. Now what do you suppose becomes of the inch and a half of foot which has no sole to rest upon? Either the upper leather holds the foot, and prevents its spreading, or the foot spreads on either side beyond the sole, and presses down upon the edge of the sole. "Very few girls walk in a firm, strong way. Notice one. You can see that she is balancing upon a narrow sole. There is an unsteadiness, a sidewise vibration. Besides, as she has not breadth of toe enough, she cannot push her body forward in that elastic way which we all so much admire. "Again, the pressure of the upper leather checks the circulation in the foot and makes it cold. If you check the circulation in any part, it becomes cold. The tight shoes, with an elastic worn about the leg just below the knee, so check the circulation in the foot, that the great majority of girls have cold feet. It would, indeed, be rare to find one with warm feet like a boy." Miss B. took her shoe and limped back to her seat quite crest- fallen. Now a dozen girls eagerly put up their hands. Selecting one, Miss R., I said, "What do you wish?" "My shoe is broader than my foot." "Well, send it forward and let me measure it." I found it two and a half inches, or, perhaps, a shade less. "Come, stand on the paper and let me measure your foot." I found it fully three and three quarter inches; one inch and a quarter of foot with nothing to rest upon. Six or eight other girls insisted on having their shoes and feet measured, but among them all we did not find one that had less than an inch and a quarter of foot not matched by the sole. Miss S., a quiet, earnest girl, who was always on the qui vive for the ought of life, rose and said:— "I have always thought that shoes should have broad soles, and I have tried for years to induce my shoemaker to give me broad soles. He always says he will, but he never does. How can a young lady get broad soles if the shoemaker won't make them? I am sure I should be glad to have mine as broad as the widest spread of my foot, but I cannot get them." SURE WAY TO GET BROAD SOLES."Miss S., if I will tell you how to induce your shoemaker to make the soles of your shoes as broad as your feet, will you try it?" "I will, and should be very thankful for the suggestion." "Go to him and say, 'Mr. Smith, please let me put my foot on a sheet of paper, resting my whole weight upon one foot, and then, if you please, mark around it with your pencil.' "Of course he will do it very cheerfully. Indeed, for some purpose, which I am sure no man can explain, shoemakers are quite in the habit of taking the size and shape of the foot. I am sure I never saw any evidence that they paid the slightest attention to it in making the shoes. "Then say to Mr. Smith, 'Please measure that and tell me just how wide it is.' "Mr. Smith measures. You look on. He finds that the width is exactly three inches and seven-eighths. "'But,' he will say, 'Miss S., what is all this for?' "'No matter. Now, Mr. Smith, will you please to make the soles of this pair as broad as my feet?' "'Certainly, Miss S., I will make them all nice and broad.' "'Mr. Smith, please make the soles as broad as my feet this time.' "'Why, certainly, Miss, what is the trouble? I will give them to you real nice and wide.' "'You always tell me so; but when they come home, they are always those little narrow ones.' "'Miss S., you shouldn't say so. I always make the soles of my shoes very broad. It will be all right.. You needn't worry about that.' "'Well, Mr. Smith, you need not send these shoes to me; I will come for them. The width of my foot is three inches and seven-eighths. Very well; when I come for these shoes, I shall measure the width of the soles; if they are one-eighth of an inch less than three inches and seven-eighths, I will not touch them.' "That struggle is all over. Mr. Smith will, for the first time in his life, keep his broad-sole promise." BEAUTY OF BROAD SOLES.'Besides the advantages I have named, broad soles are much handsomer than narrow ones. They make the foot look smaller. If one puts his foot into a shoe too short, and too narrow, and the toes and sides of the foot press out all around over the sole, it makes the foot look big; but if the sole be large enough to let the foot rest in its natural relations, it looks much smaller. We men wear boots, often, with broad soles that project well on both sides. Such boots are thought to be particularly stylish. ECONOMY OF WIDE SOLES."Another advantage may be mentioned for the benefit of those who study economy. Such shoes will not only keep in shape, but they will last two or three times as long as those with narrow soles. The uppers, not being stretched, as they are with narrow soles, will, if of good stock, almost never wear out, while the soles will remain square and even. "I have spoken of the advantage of a greatly improved circulation, which would result from the introduction of the wide soles. I may add that the change which would at once appear in the manner of walking, would strike every beholder. THICKNESS OF THE SOLES."The soles of girls' boots and shoes should be thick. They are not always to remain upon carpets, but they must go out doors and walk on the ground. "Some people seem, somehow, to suppose that girls do not really step on the ground, but that, in some sort of spiritual way, they pass along just above the damp, unclean earth. But, as a matter of fact, girls do step on the ground just like boys. I have frequently walked behind them to test this point, and have noticed that when the ground is soft, they make tracks, and thus demonstrate the existence of an actual, material body. "Now, while this is the case, and while it is indispensable to their health that they go much in the open air, they must have thick soles. Let these be made of the hardest and most impervious leather. It is well, in addition, during eight months of the year, to have the bottoms of the soles covered either with a sheet of rubber, or simply covered with a spreading of some of the liquid rubber, which will remain two or three weeks, and protect the sole from dampness. OF WHAT SHALL THE UPPERS OF GIRLS' BOOTS BE COMPOSED?"During the cold and damp months they should be made of thick, solid leather. No matter about the name; some calfskin is very thin, while morocco is often very thick. During the warm season they may wear for uppers prunella, or other cloth." This much was spoken to my girls. I might leave the shape and width of the heel to the intelligence of the reader; but as the most preposterous heels have been recently introduced, it is perhaps judicious to point out the physiological mischief. The heels of the fashionable ladies' shoes at the present moment—quarter past three, P.M., August 4th, 1870,—are two inches high, and at the bottom not larger than an old-fashioned silver quarter of a dollar, if anybody can remember how large that was. Need it be argued that this absurd fashion weakens the ankle, and jams the toes into the sharp points of the boots? If a woman were to walk as much as her health requires, with those most unphysiological heels, her feet would soon be crippled. The ankle, the heel, the arch of the foot and the toes must all suffer. It need hardly be said that heels should be broad, long and low. The great advantage in elasticity and firmness which would come at once in the manner of walking, would, even as to stylishness, more than compensate for the absence of the fashionable Shanghai heels. SHOULD THE SHOE SUPPORT THE ANKLE?Shoes of a peculiar structure have been employed to support the ankle. Medical men have even advised the introduction of brass, or other metallic straps, to be laced in the shoe about the ankle, to give support in walking. The ordinary shoe is made so as to fit the ankle very closely, under the impression that thereby the ankle is supported. This is an error. If the ankles were to be used but a day or a week, such support might serve; but as no one intends to rely permanently upon such artificial support, and as any pressure checks the circulation and the development of the parts, so a lacing to the ankle, as a lacing about the chest, may feel comfortable and give a sense of support for the time being, but, in either case, will, in the long run, only produce absorption and weakness. The ankle joint should be left entirely without ligature, without any pressure, and by exercise be developed into a self-supporting institution. If this were the place, I would give special directions for bathing the ankle joints in cold water, morning and evening, and rubbing them hard with the naked hands, if they are weak and need special support. RUBBER BOOTS AND SHOES.On the subject of rubber boots and shoes much has been said, and well said. There can be no doubt that india-rubber boots are mischievous; but I have at length reached the conclusion that the injury is less than the constant in-door life among girls and women which would result from an abandonment of the rubber protections. The prejudice against such leather boots as would, alone, prove adequate to our climate, is so determined, that I think it my duty, in discussing the subject of shoes for girls, to advise that, in this climate, every girl should have a pair of india-rubber over- shoes, of the arctic or sandal pattern, and a pair of large-sized, long-legged rubber boots for the roughest weather. They should never be worn except when the streets are in a condition absolutely requiring them, and should not be kept on, in the house. If these rules be carefully observed, and, during the season of the year when rubbers are worn, the feet are frequently washed in cold water, and rubbed hard with rough towels, hair gloves and the naked hand, they may be protected against the injurious influence of the rubber boots and shoes. HOW GIRLS SHOULD WALK.A good many years ago,—let me look in the glass again,—never use hair dye,—yes, a great many years ago, I was studying my profession in a medical office with several other students. Just below stood a book-bindery, and a little above, the residence of a poor widow. A girl of twenty years passed backward and forward, from one to the other, several times a day. Very rarely did she pass our office without one or more of us observing her. Very natural, you say. But you don't understand me. She was not a handsome girl. Her dress was of the plainest calico, and, I suppose on account of her occupation, it was not always clean. But, nevertheless, she was one of our staple attractions. Our office was on the main street, and above us were the residences of the rich. Hundreds of girls with handsome faces and rich dresses passed every day, but we were not on the lookout for them. It was only the book-binding girl that drew us to the window. One of our fellows would cry out, "Here she goes. Come quick, John; quick, Henry." Curious, wasn't it? And what do you suppose so excited our interest? She walked well! Ah! I can see her now! What a queen! Queenly, we exclaim, with reference to a certain manner of walking. We never say queenly mouth, or queenly eyes, or queenly nose. The word is applied only to a certain style of personal carriage. When we see a woman pass, carrying her head and shoulders in a peculiar way, stepping off in a grand, elastic style, the word queenly leaps to every lip. Our book-binding girl was a Methodist; and I do not mind telling you that I used to go to the Methodist church pretty often, and always sat in the gallery, that I might see her come in and go out. She frequented a little social organization, in which young men and women assembled for conversation, reading, singing, etc. I joined, although there was no other attraction than our queen. You may think it very strange, but I was never introduced to her; I never spoke with her. Indeed, I carefully avoided a personal acquaintance, lest a lack of intelligence and sentiment might break the charm of her peerless bearing. I think that nothing in any woman has ever more deeply impressed my imagination than that young woman's splendid mien. ANOTHER WOMAN WHO WALKED WELL.Calling upon a legal friend in a western city about twenty years ago, he asked me, while we were sitting at his front window,— "Have you ever seen Mrs. W——e?" "No. Who is she? what is she?" "She is a remarkable woman." "Actress?" "No." "Singer?" "No." "Authoress?" "No." "Well, do tell me what she is remarkable for." "Oh, she walks well." "And is it so rare for a woman to walk well, in your city, that one who does, becomes famous?" "Ah, but when you see her walk, you won't ask that question. She walks splendidly; and what is very wonderful, she knows it; and, knowing it, what is perhaps still more wonderful, she walks a great deal. She generally goes down town about this time. If we keep watch, we shall see her." In a few minutes he exclaimed, "There she goes, there she goes!" "Indeed, and that is your wonderful Mrs. W——e? She don't handsome much. Eyes sunken, complexion dark, nose—well, her nose is preposterous, mouth coarse,—but, she does, yes, she does walk splendidly." I pushed out my head and watched her as she went down the street. STILL ANOTHER WOMAN WHO WALKED WELL.We arrived at the Morley House about two o'clock in the afternoon. It was my first visit to London. While in the dining-room, I made one of those table acquaintances so common among travellers. He asked:— "Shall you visit one of the theatres this evening?" "I hadn't thought of it; what is there worth seeing?" "Have you ever seen Mrs. Charles Kean, Ellen Tree that was?" "No." "Well, you'd better go and see her. She is the finest walker I ever saw." "Glad you mentioned it. I shall certainly go." It was one of Shakspeare's plays. When Mrs. Kean came in, she walked across the stage two or three times before uttering a word. I never saw anything so perfectly grand! The play had then run a hundred and fifty nights. I afterward met several persons who had witnessed it more than twenty nights, and most of them mentioned Mrs. Kean's walking, as the great attraction. Girls, the Creator has not made you all handsome. He has not given you all fine faces, or noble proportions; but He has given every one of you the capacity to learn to walk well. Why, even a little woman, weighing but a hundred pounds, can make herself grand by a certain style of walking. How any of you who desire to appear well, to make a fine impression, can consent to crawl about, poking your chins out, shoulder-blades sticking out, and wiggling yourself along in that stubby, stumbling way, amazes me. Why, girls, if you were to give one-twentieth part as much time to learning to walk, as you give to the piano, you would add immensely to your attractions. Everybody plays the piano. It really is refreshing to meet one who says, "I have never learned to play." Why not a few of you, instead of sitting four hours a day on piano stools, weakening and distorting your spines; why not just a few of you, by way of variety, cultivate this beautiful, elastic, queenly manner of walking? You have no idea how, to use a Yankee phrase, "it would pay," as an attraction. RULES FOR FINE WALKING.There are certain prerequisites. First, you must have low, wide heels, and broad soles, especially about the toes, affording a secure surface, upon which, in taking each step, you can push the body forward. Second, the body about the waist must be perfectly at liberty. The corset is a deadly enemy to fine walking. But given perfect freedom at the middle of the body, through which all the movements in walking must pass,—given this freedom of the trunk, with good shoes, and you have the prerequisites on which this general exercise of the body depends. Suppose, instead of a free body, that you press a corset into the pit of the stomach, and press it in so as to make a scoop-shovel dip in that part of the body, of course you draw the shoulders forward, and push the bowels down out of their natural place. Then you walk like a deformed person. With liberty of feet and liberty of body, you are ready to take your first lesson. I once read a book about walking. It was a French book, and, if I remember right, it contained about one hundred and twenty pages. In it the most elaborate directions were given. We were told how to hold our heels and toes, what part of the foot to bring down first, how, when the foot had been brought down, it was to be moved during the step, just what angle must be maintained between the two feet, the style of movement in the ankle itself, management of the knees, the hips, the shoulders, the head, the arms, the hands, the thumbs, —the position of the thumbs was the subject of several pages. I have sometimes thought that I would write a book on walking. I am sure I can write a better one than that French book, and my book would contain only four words. Let us see, we must have two leaves, and each leaf must be as large as your thumb nail. We have four pages. Now we will proceed to print this book. On the first page we will print one single word, "chin"; on the second a single word, "close"; on the third page, "to"; now we approach the end of the volume; turn over, and on the last page we print the word "neck." The volume is complete. No explanatory notes need be given, not another word need be said. Whoever carries the "chin close to neck" is all right from top to toe, and will walk well. Strange to say, the chin is the pivot on which the whole body turns in walking. "Miss Howard, please stand here before us. Now push your chin forward after the manner of most girls in walking. There, girls, don't you see, her shoulders are wrong, hips wrong, wrong everywhere? "Now, Miss Howard, draw your chin back close to your neck. See, she has brought her shoulders into the right position, hips right, every part is right. Now, please walk? Don't you see? Although, in this first attempt, she seems a little stiff, and awkward, she exhibits the elements of a fine, queenly bearing? If she were to keep it up a few weeks, and make it easy, wherever she might go, people would exclaim, 'Queenly! queenly!'" Oh, it is pitiable to see fine American girls poke along the street with their chins away on in advance, hastening to inform the people that the girl is coming. Come to this window with me, and look out a moment. There, there are two girls passing. Now look at their chins. If these girls would draw their chins back close to their necks, their whole appearance would be changed in an instant. I have often said if my adopted daughter should come to me, and say: — "Father, I am going to Japan; I don't expect to see you again in this world, and, now as I am about to leave you, tell me how to preserve my health." I should say:— "My daughter, I am glad you came to me about this. I have given my life to the study of the laws of health, and I am sure I can give you valuable suggestions. "Listen. I will give you five rules, and if you observe them, no matter where you may live, you will be almost sure to maintain good health." "Father, five rules; that's a great many. I am afraid I shall forget some of them; give me one,—the most important one, and I promise not to forget it." "My daughter, if I can give you but one rule, it is this: Stand up straight, walk erect, sit erect, and even when you are in bed at night, don't put three pillows under your head, and watch your toes all night, but keep yourself straight. If you do this, your lungs, heart, liver, stomach, and all the other organs in the body, will have room for work. My dear child, if you observe this rule, you will not only bear with you the air of a noble woman, but you will contribute more than by any other single rule, to the vigor of your body, and the maintenance of your health. "Why, my daughter, you cannot have a good voice even, unless you stand erect. "The Creator has fitted this little vocal apparatus in the throat to a certain attitude of the body. "The vocal apparatus of a cow is so fixed, that when her backbone is horizontal, she can do her best bellowing. If she were to stand on her hind legs, and stick her nose directly up towards the sky, she couldn't half bellow. "The vocal apparatus in a girl's throat is fitted, not to a horizontal spine, but to a perpendicular one. The portion of the spine in the neck determines, mostly, the action of the music box in the throat. "If you drop your-chin down on your chest, bending your neck, and then try to sing, you will find at once that the vocal box is all out of shape. Go to the opera and observe the singers. When they wish to make a particularly loud or fine sound, they don't put the chin down in the pit of the stomach, but they draw it back close to the neck, and hold the upper part of the spine, and, indeed, every part of the spine, in a noble, erect attitude. No, my dear Mary, you can not even speak or sing well without attending to my volume on the subject of the chin. Need I say again, that only in this upright position of the body can your lungs and heart find room to do their great and vital work? Need I say, that if you allow your head and shoulders to fall forward, and the organs of the chest to fall down on the organs of the abdomen, the stomach and liver and all the other organs in your abdominal cavity will be displaced, crowded and trammeled? My dear Japanese missionary, I have given you the most important rule of health, and if you observe it during your life among the Japs, it will do wonders in preserving your health and strength. IMPORTANT HELP IN LEARNING TO WALK.You are in haste to become a queen? The ambition is a noble one. You can hurry the change by another practice, which I will describe. A charming lady of the grand, old-fashioned pattern, bore herself like an empress at eighty-six. I ventured to ask her:— "Madam, what was the source of this remarkable carriage of your person?" She replied:— "During my young life I carried a large book on my head one or two hours every day. My mother had been taught the practice in an English school, and she transmitted it to her daughters." Some years ago there was devised a pretty iron crown, in three parts, which has been much used for this purpose. The first part, which rests upon the head, weighed nine pounds; when an iron ring was placed inside of this, it weighed eighteen pounds, and when the second one was added, the weight was twenty-seven pounds. This device was ornamental and convenient. But, while the crown is the best thing; any weight will do. A bag of corn or beans may be employed, A book will answer very well. I have frequently seen books used. You can use any large book of no value,—say a large law book,—and you will find that the effort to retain it on the head will secure a perfectly balanced, accurate movement of all the muscles of the body. Whatever weight is employed, let it be carried upon the top of the head, holding the chin close to the neck, thirty minutes in the morning, and about the same time before lying down at night. In this connection let me say that the use of thick pillows tends to produce a curve in the neck. The pillows should be hard and thin. I am glad to see that hair pillows of moderate size are being generally introduced. Let me explain the way in which carrying a load upon the head helps the spine into an erect posture. The spine is composed of twenty- four separate bones, which do not lie upon one another, but are separated by cushions of elastic cartilage. Suppose the thickness of these cushions to be a quarter of an inch. When the spine is erect, they are of the same thickness all around. When the spine is bent sidewise, say towards the right, the elastic cushions become thinner on that side, and if the bending is decided, the edges of the spinal bones themselves will nearly touch, while the mass of elastic or india-rubber substance will be pressed over to the left side. Now suppose that one follows an occupation requiring this position of the spine. After a time, unless pains are taken to counterbalance the mischievous influence of the occupation, these india-rubber cushions between the spinal bones will become fixed in this wedge- like shape, being thin on the right side and thick on the left side. Now suppose, instead of bending sidewise, one bends forward, as nine persons in ten do, exactly the same thing takes place in these elastic, rubber cushions, only that the rubber is pushed backward, and the spine bones come together in front. When the chin is drawn back close to the neck, and the cushions are brought into their natural equality of thickness all around, if, at the same moment, a considerable weight is placed upon the head to press hard upon the spinal cushions, much will be done in a little time, to fix them in this natural shape. It requires but a few months of this management to induce a very striking change in the attitude of the spine. Many years ago, when my wife was an invalid, we spent three winters in the South. The plantation negro was a shambling, careless, uncouth creature; but occasionally we saw a negro whose bearing suggested a recent occupancy of one of the kingly thrones in Africa. After a little we came to understand the source of this peculiarity. These negroes, of the erect, lofty pattern, were engaged in "toting" loads upon their heads. Everywhere, in certain large districts of Italy, one is struck with the singular carriage of the water-carriers, who bring from the mountain springs, great tubs of water on their heads. How often we see German girls bringing into town great loads of sticks on their heads. And we never look at them, if we are thoughtful, without contrasting their proud, erect carriage, with the drooping shoulders, projecting shoulder blades, stuck-out chins, and general slip-shoddiness of our wives and daughters. THE LANGUAGE OF DRESS.The dress of a French peasant tells you at once of his place in society. Throughout Europe the dress may be taken as the exponent of the wearer's position. This is as true of women as of men. For good reasons, the language of dress is not so definite and explicit in America. But even here we may judge very correctly, in most cases, by the every-day dress, of the position of the wearer. The social character and relations of women, as a class, in any country, may be clearly inferred from certain peculiarities of their dress. For example, we are in Constantinople. If, in a moment, we could be set down in that city, and not know where we were, would any of us doubt the language of that veil over woman's face? Would anybody suppose her to be a citizen? Would anybody suppose she belonged to herself? Leaving Constantinople, let us visit an old-time fashionable social gathering in Vienna. Women enter the ball-room. They are dressed in gauze so thin that you can see their skins all over their persons. Would any of us mistake the language of that kind of dress? Would any of us be in doubt about their relations to men? Come to America to-day. We attend a social gathering. Women appear with their vital organs squeezed down to one-half the natural size, their arms and busts naked, while their trails are so long that, whenever they turn round, they are obliged to use their hands to push them out of the way. As we all comprehend, at a glance, the meaning of the veils in Constantinople, and the nudity of the women in Vienna, so we all infer the position of woman in America from these peculiarities of her dress. I read thus: The compressed vital organs and the encumbered feet mean, that women are dependent and helpless. Having but little use for breath and locomotion, by a law of nature, they cramp the instruments of breath and locomotion. While the nudity of the arms and bust signifies a slavery to man's passions. No one supposes that when woman becomes a citizen, and man's equal, she will compress her lungs, fetter her legs, or appeal to his passions by any immodest exposure of her person. LOW NECK AND SHORT SLEEVES.As I have said but little of the "low neck and short sleeves," I want to add a word in this connection. Many a modest woman appears at a party with her arms nude, and so much of her chest exposed that you can see nearly half of the mammal gland. Many a modest mother permits her daughters to make this model-artist exhibition of themselves. One beautiful woman said, in answer to my complaints, "You shouldn't look." "But," I replied, "do you not adjust your dress in this way on purpose to give us a chance to look?" She was greatly shocked at my way of putting it. "Well," I said, "this assurance is perfectly stunning. You strip yourselves, go to a public party, parade yourselves for hours in a glare of gas-light, saying to the crowd, 'Look here, gentlemen,' and then you are shocked because we put your unmistakable actions into words." In discussing this subject before an audience of ladies in this city the other evening, I said:— "Ladies, suppose I had entered this hall with my arms and bust bare, what would you have done? You would have made a rush for the door, and, as you jostled against each other in hurrying out, you would have exclaimed to each other, 'Oh! the unconscionable scalawag!' May I ask if it is not right that we should demand of you as much modesty as you demand of us?" But you exclaim, "Custom! it is the custom, and fashion is everything!" If you could know the history of the "low neck and short sleeves," how, and for what purpose they were introduced, you would as soon join the company of the "unfortunates," as to make this exhibition of your persons. As much as I desire to live, so much do I long, by this book, to help my country-women to a higher and purer life. Cherishing this hope in my heart of hearts, and knowing that nothing but truth can, in the long run, prevail, I have read this discussion of dress over and over again, and asked myself, and asked my wife and my sister, if the statements I have made are quite true, and if they are made in the proper spirit. Upon reading the preceding pages upon "The Language of Dress" with my wife and sister, they say: "These statements are just and true, and greatly need to be uttered;" but my wife says, "I think you ought to say very plainly, that a great many pure-minded women dress with 'low neck and short sleeves,' without an impure thought, and simply because it is the fashion." I have no doubt of it, and thought I had said as much. Indeed, have I not been careful to state that I was discussing the language of dress, and not the conscious purpose of each individual wearer. I should never forgive myself if I thoughtlessly and unnecessarily wounded the feelings of the thousands of young women who will, I trust, read this volume. But let me add, that I could not pardon myself; and the brave, earnest women who may read these pages would not pardon me, if I discussed this vital subject in a shilly-shally, easy-going, disengenuous manner. If I can effect a sure and permanent lodgment of vital truths in your minds, and, in my manner of doing it, should, for the time being, provoke your anger, I am content. This exposure of the naked bosom before men, in the most public places, belongs not to the highest type of Christian civilization, but to those dark ages when women sought nothing higher than the gratification of the passions of man, and were content to be mere slaves and toys. Boston contains its proportion of the refined women of the country. We have here a few score of the old families, inheriting culture and wealth, and who can take rank with the best. A matron who knows their habits, assures me that she never saw a member of one of these families in "low neck and short sleeves." In the future free and Christian America, the very dress of woman will proclaim a high, pure womanhood. And that dress will be an American costume. We shall then discard the costumes devised by the dissolute capitals of Europe. What a strange spectacle we witness in America to-day. Free, bravo, American women hold out to the world the bible of social, political and religious freedom; and, anon, we see them down on their knees waiting the arrival of a steamer, from France, to learn how they may dress their bodies for the next month. DESCRIPTIONS OF DRESSI wonder women's cheeks do not burn at the sly contempt for themselves, displayed in this constant description of their dress. It hardly needs an illustration, though just now one comes to hand, of which a word. A beautiful, noble girl was married, last evening, in a neighboring city, and the Boston newspapers, of this morning, are full of the wedding. In the first place, we have a long description of the young woman's underclothing. Every article, worn upon every part of her person, is described in elaborate detail, with the number, style, make, trimmings, etc., etc. Running over the description of the trousseau, my eye falls upon: "French exquisitely daintily invisible finest delicate exquisite princess elegant coquettish grace jaunty lavender reliefs stylish coquettish Parisian stylish pretty striking tea-rose bouffant Cluny graceful Valenciennes jaunty nondescript becoming square broad high tiny stunning tiny China silk finest Valenciennes rose elegant beautifully lovely unique elegant heliotrope artistic perfection grace delicate rose-buds lovely exquisite finest delicate gossamer airy fairy. LETTER FROM WASHINGTON.Reception at the White House. From "Our Washington Correspondent." Senator A., General B., and Vice-President C. said and did so and so. Mrs. A., Mrs. B., and Mrs. C. said nothing, did nothing; but half the letter is devoted to gorgeous descriptions of their dress- maker's spread. This silent contempt of the woman, and elaborate detail of her dress-maker's style, must cut every proud, sensitive woman to the very quick. It is another piece of what is called "ladies' man," and "ladies' small talk." It is of a piece with this taking off the hat, this excessive bowing and smirking to women, while they are paid for equal services but one-third a man's salary. We had a capital illustration of this gallantry and injustice, in a speech made by a leading member of the American Homoeopathic Institute, at its great meeting in this city. A resolution was introduced inviting educated woman physicians of the Homoeopathic school, to become members of the Institute. An old and most respectable member of the Institute, from——, spoke very warmly against the resolution. He said: "I am a ladies' man; I never pass a woman with whom I am acquainted without raising my hat. I do not keep my seat in the cars while ladies are standing, as I see gentlemen do in Boston. "Yes, I am the most obedient and devoted servant of the ladies, gentlemen of the Convention, but when you would introduce them to membership in the American Institute of Homoeopathy, I say no! never!" It is this making woman the occasion for a display of man's gallantries, with this contemptuous disregard of her claims to common justice; it is this spirit which passes the woman, and devotes itself to a description of her dress, to outlining her "low corsage," her "magnificent bust," etc., etc. If I were a girl, and one of these besmeared, bescented, befaddled, "ladies' man" puppies were to condescend to perform his whining and barking for my special delectation, I should mildly suggest to him the infinite wisdom of bestowing his precious slaver upon some small, gentle poodle. EXCESSIVE ORNAMENTATION.The trimming mania is frightful. What do you think of one hundred and twenty yards,—three hundred and sixty feet,—four thousand three hundred and twenty inches of ribbon in the trimming of one dress? I wish I could command for an hour the pen of a Jenkins, and give the names of the various ribbons and shades of ribbons, of the laces, their origin, style, and value. (Each kind of lace has a history, which is dear to the heart of the devotee of fashion.) I wish I could describe the hundred and one crimps and frills and things. I wish I could command the pen of one of these amazing writers about woman's dress. I would give you ten pages of it. I say again, that the trimming mania has become insufferable. Unless a woman has a dressmaker, she must be the veriest slave. She must be at it morning, noon and night. Gather in one place all the artists, authoresses, and women of finest and highest culture, and how many of them do you suppose could be bribed to go into the street all rigged out in ribbon, gimp, frills, edgings, ruches, fringes, satins, velvets, buttons, nail-heads, etc., etc., etc. I have met many of the women who may be classed as above, and I cannot now recall one who was fashionably trimmed. This rage is, in essence, tawdry and vulgar. It is cheap in everything but money. EAR RINGS AND OTHER TRINKETS.What a barbarism to bore a hole in the flesh, and stick in a trinket. I have seen several ears in which the ring had cut its way out, making a slit, and a new hole had been punched in one of the pieces. Men have fallen into this vulgar barbarism. American savages offer many instances of men with gold or silver trinkets in the ears. But among lower savages in different parts of the world the custom is quite general, and many of them add an ornament in the nose. My own wife, in her girlhood, had her ears pierced, but I have never seen them embellished with trinkets. FINGER RINGS, ETC.What a vulgar show you sometimes see among the demi-monde,—a dozen great gold and jeweled rings on the fingers, two large rings or hoops about the wrists, a great buckle in the belt, a gold chain about the neck, a gold watch, several charms, a locket or two, a breast-pin,—what a barbarous, vulgar show; poor things, I suppose they think it helps to advertise their unhappy trade. My dear girls, leave this trinket show to the Indians, and use no other jewelry than a neat small pin to hold the collar, and a delicate small chain to guard your watch. The watch should be in a pocket, and not slipped under the belt. The belt must be mischievously tight to hold the watch. To wear a watch pushed half way under the belt, is to constantly expose it to accident, and, at best, to make a vain announcement of the fact that you have one. In England it is a common remark, that you may know a nobleman by his plain dress, and by the absence of all jewelry. And I will add, that everywhere you may know a shoddy pretender by an excessive display of jewelry. No person of really fine culture delights in an exhibition of trinkets or gew-gaws of any kind. The refined soul cannot make an ornamental parade. OUTRAGES UPON THE BODY.It is barbarous to tattoo the body. Among civilized men, only low sailors, who spend their lives at sea, indulge in this barbarism; and they confine the tattooing to a limited surface, "pricking in" the figure of an anchor, or a ship. The nose, lips, teeth, ears, and other parts of the body, are cut or distorted by some of the savages of Africa. Wherever we find among men the custom of tattooing, cutting or distorting the body, we need make no further inquiry,—it is a land of barbarians. Undeveloped peoples, in the service of false religions, maltreat their bodies; and even followers of Christ have immured themselves in dark cells, and caves, carried the accumulated filth of years, scrupulously avoiding water, starved themselves, pinched and whipped themselves, made long journeys on their knees or bellies, made pilgrimages with peas in their shoes, and kicked, cuffed and outraged themselves in many other ways. Among advanced Christian nations, even now we sometimes observe a lingering reflection of this strange hallucination. For example, a great many people rather fancy a dyspeptic, ghostly clergyman, and can hardly bring themselves to listen to a prayer from a preacher with square shoulders, a big chest, a ruddy face, and a moustache. The ghost, they seem to think, belongs in some way to the spirit world; while the beef-eating, jolly fellow is dreadfully at home in this world. The ghost exclaims:— "Jerusalem, my happy home, The other, like Mr. Beecher, enjoys a good dinner, a nimble-footed horse, a big play with the children and the dogs, seems joyous in the sunshine, and,—wretched sinner,—does not sigh to depart. So deep-seated is this old pagan prejudice, that a ringing shout of laughter from a young woman is very suspicious to the deacons of her church. Leaving the religious fanaticisms, we come upon another form of this prejudice. The fragile, pale young woman with a lisp, is thought, by many silly people, to be more of a lady, than another with ruddy cheeks, and vigorous health. It is, perhaps, difficult to define it exactly, but there exists, somehow, in the fashionable world, the notion that a pale and sensitive woman is feminine and refined, while one in blooming health is masculine and coarse. But every acute observer knows that the feminine soul, like the masculine, utters its richest harmonies only through a perfect instrument. While the languid, low voice, and deliberate manner of the invalid lady may suggest refinement to the casual observer, the discriminating physician who probes the soul, as well as the body, finds a marvellous correspondence between them. Not only is it true that, in extreme cases of physical exhaustion, the mind gives way with the body, but those keen, exquisite sensibilities of the soul become weak and blunt. No physician of large experience will fail to recal instances of extreme hemorrhagic exhaustion, in which all sense of modesty disappears. Assuming that the highest possible health of the body is represented by 100, and the lowest possible by the figure 1, and assuming, what no physiologist or metaphysician will question, that the head and heart keep step with the body, we shall not hesitate long in determining the state of the mind and soul of the fashionable, languid, nervous lady whom we meet in America at every turn, and who ranges from 10 to 50 on our scale. It is but natural that she should be occupied with trimmings, and feel no interest in the great social and moral movements of the day. Caeteris paribus, a young woman whose physical health is represented by 80 on our scale, has twice as much feminine delicacy and character as another whose health is represented by 40. If this is not a logical deduction from the laws of physiology and metaphysics, I know of nothing that is. While, as already suggested, every discriminating physician is constantly called upon to listen to the harmony between the body and the soul. The notion that delicacy of the body indicates delicacy of the body indicates delicacy of the mind and heart, contributes more to the fashion of delicacy than all other influences. Miss Leonora, observing that Bridget O'Flaherty, the scrub-girl, who is ignorant and coarse, has a large waist and a powerful chest, and that Miss Seraphina Flamingo, who is a perfect angel, has a fragile, delicate form, draws the inference that a woman with a strong body is ignorant and coarse, while a sylphlike form signifies the spirituel. Besides this, a strong, muscular body is associated with work, with a servant; while Miss Leonora is not long in discovering that the mistresses,—the ladies,—are pale and sickly. Don't you see now how it is? To have a strong and muscular body is to be suspected of work, of service; while a frail, delicate personnel is a proof of position, of ladyhood. Go through the town and observe the women. Are any of the fashionable ladies strong and muscular? Not one! Are any of them able to perform hard work? Not one! But there are women who do hard work, very hard work. They are not ladies, they are servants! The ladies are delicate. The servants are strong. Don't you see what a plain case it is? Miss Leonora desires, above all things, to be a lady, and to be always, and everywhere, and immediately recognized as a lady. How clear it is that the one, unmistakable, conclusive proof is, that she should look and move like a lady. If she looks strong, and moves with a will, she will be mistaken for a worker, for a servant. If she looks delicate, and moves languidly, it will be seen at once that she does not belong to the working class. It is true that many strong, muscular women are coarse and ignorant; they have given their lives to hard work, and have been denied all opportunities to cultivate their minds and manners. To compare such with the petted, pampered daughters of social and intellectual opportunity, and then to treat the strong body of the one as the source of the coarseness and ignorance within, and, in the other case, to treat the weak, delicate body as the source of the fine culture, is to reason like an idiot. In order to arrive at anything like a fair illustration of the influence of health upon the mind and temper, we must visit a family in which there are daughters in sparkling health, and others who are languid and delicate. We visited such a family, in a neighboring state, three summers since, and shall never forget our observations and experiences. The oldest daughter was delicate. The youngest two were likewise sensitive and delicate. But there were two girls who were in fine health. When the stage stopped at the gate, the girls, who were expecting us, came out on the piazza, and the healthy ones came rushing down to the gate, and threw their arms around one of us, nearly smothering that one with kisses, (I shall not tell you whether it was my wife, or myself,) while they shook hands most cordially with the other one. They took hold of our hands and fairly danced us up the walk. On reaching the piazza, we were very cordially and languidly welcomed by the other girls. During our stay, the well girls ran over constantly. They devised Never have I more fully realized the common saying, that "sickness is selfish." The Misses Vigorous had enough for themselves and all the rest of us. The Misses Languid had nothing to spare, and were constant borrowers and beggars. Do you imagine the well girls were less lovely, less beautiful in heart and soul, than the delicate ones? Or, if you prefer, do you think a young lady who leaves the city in June for the mountains, pale, nervous, unhappy, hardly able to take care of herself, unable to even think of anything but her own wretchedness, do you think her more lovely than when, returning in October, she comes bounding in, all radiant with joy, and full of sympathy and helpfulness? FASHIONABLE SUFFERINGS.So determined is the esprit du corps of the fashionables, that ambitious young ladies secretly pride themselves upon the attainment of womanly weaknesses. There are certain "female weaknesses" which one would think young ladies might hesitate to mention; but so strong is this secret pride in the signs of ladyhood, that many fashionable young ladies go over the details with real pleasure. I once heard a conversation between an invalid aunt and four young ladies. The young ladies were all unmarried, and the oldest not above twenty-three. The aunt was a successful competitor in the race for number and intensity of sufferings, and embraced every opportunity to make a tabular statement. Her spine was the favorite theme. The burning, the pain, the sharp and indescribable dartings and excruciating tortures were something fearful to hear. But the girls constantly interrupted her with saying, "That is just the way I feel;" and, "I have exactly that pain;" and, "precisely, I have had that pain for months." The aunt replied, "Now, girls, don't tell me that. It isn't possible for you to have such afflictions at your age." But they declared, with sparkling eyes, that every one of the sufferings she had described,—every one of them,—they enjoyed in the most dreadful way. The aunt enjoyed another class of affections, upon which she lingered with real gusto. I do not feel at liberty to go into particulars; but here again the young ladies were enough for her. They declared, without flinching, that every one of her sufferings, they had, and what was more, they had certain horrible variations which they described, and which, in fact, I thought rather outdid the poor aunt. Aunt spoke of her headache in the most brilliant style; but here the girls were not to be beaten. In fact, it was neck and neck to the end. I have heard conversations of another sort which are pertinent in this discussion. A strong country woman, accustomed to work in the garden, and to take long walks, mentions to a group of fashionable young ladies, that she has just walked six miles. "Wonderful! dreadful! is it possible? Why, I couldn't walk six miles to save my life." Perhaps the country aunt says, "I finished a large washing before leaving, and hung the clothes upon the line." Miss Araminta exclaims, "I never washed anything in my life. Why, how is it done? and how dreadful it looks to see all sorts of clothes hanging out in a yard." The common affectation of ignorance of all useful work is another illustration. A young lady sometimes knows how to make certain rare and delicate cake, but she never knows how to make bread; she knows how to make pink dogs in worsted, but not how to make a shirt. She knows how to crochet, but not how to make garments for herself or her brothers; and thus on through the whole list. She knows nothing whatever of useful work, in which the body and heart may be brought into earnest, womanly play. My dear girls, I could show you in this city a sight, which would make you sick at heart. I know a home, in which you could see, on any day, just before dinner, a pale, thin, overworked mother hurrying to and fro in her kitchen, and in the parlor overhead four daughters. One young lady is playing the piano (classical music), and the others are crocheting, tatting, and feasting upon the "Awful Secret of the Mysterious Milk-Maid," and one other thing—waiting to be called to dinner. And, although the mother generally thinks it very hard, I have known many cases where she joined in, and really advocated this plan of bringing up daughters. You may hear such a mother exclaim, "Well, I don't care; my girls shan't be worked to death as I have been. Let them have an easy time while they can; their turn will come soon enough." So they screw up their waists, recline upon a couch, and ponder the "Fearful Doom of the Mysterious Count," and thus get ready to take their turn. Thousands of young ladies, in this city, are being trained for wives and mothers by such means. |
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