"Grant her in health and wealth long to live."
These are the words in which many of us, Sunday after Sunday, pray for
our gracious Queen. We desire for her health and wealth; and justly so;
both are necessary. The one for her comfort, and to enable her to
perform her arduous duties; the other for her exalted rank and position.
For ourselves, however, it is to be hoped we rarely pray for what is
termed wealth; but, on the other hand, how needful it is that we should
supplicate unceasingly for health. "Grant me health, Lord, to perform my
daily task." We have, indeed, need to ask for that unpurchasable, that
priceless blessing. If we possess it already, we need to implore its
continuance; if we have lost it, so much the more earnestly and devoutly
should we solicit a return to its paths. Yes, next to the possession of
a healthy conscience, we hold physical health to be the greatest of all
gifts, but, like most of the grandest, fairest, and divinest things on
earth, many of us accept it as a matter of course. And when, through our
own want of forethought, through neglect of the most ordinary rules of
health, through reckless indifference, we are forced practically to
acknowledge that the most robust health has its limits of endurance,
then we chafe and pine; and life, which seemed such a joyous, easy thing
a month ago, is now a dreary burden, duty a heavy chain, pleasure a
fiction; and self, weary self, rises in the ascendant, occupies all our
sympathies and thoughts, and leaves us dissatisfied and indifferent,
ungrateful and ungracious.
There are those who believe that by not attending to or neglecting their
health they are acting unselfishly. They say it is so selfish to be
always considering whether this is good or harmful or that is likely to
encroach upon the domain of health. If this sentiment is carried to the
verge of hypochondria, we grant its truth. There is nothing more odious
than a person who is constantly looking out for the weathercocks, and
who, as soon as he finds the wind in a certain quarter, shuts himself
up, and carefully excludes all intercourse from the outer world; or who
can trace certain symptoms--the hypochondriacs' pet word--to the extra
spoonful of salt or sugar in yesterday's seasoning; who is a bore to his
surroundings and a melancholy object of interest to himself; who is
nothing but a useless encumbrance upon the face of the earth.
This is not the taking care which we advise or suggest. Things good in
themselves may be perverted into errors by the spirit and the want of
judgment with which they are pursued, and we fervently believe that if
our prayer for health is answered, it will be first by the opening of
our own eyes to facts and laws to which we were hitherto blind, or of
which we have been ignorant, than to the practical observance of these
laws, and our willingness to be subject to them.
But it is not of those who are merely inconvenienced by illness that we
would speak to-day. Not of those who are only subjected to the loss of a
little pleasure, a good deal of temper, and who are learning a lesson in
being patient. In a word, we do not write for the well-to-do invalid,
but for a very different class. Our remarks are intended especially for
those of "our girls" to whom health is, perhaps, the only capital they
possess. To whom loss of health means loss of work, loss of wage,
anxiety, which aggravates matters, and perhaps serious privations to
those in any way dependent upon their exertions.
Yes, the army of girl and women workers in this great metropolis is,
indeed, a vast one, and work for them is no sinecure. If they cannot
work so thoroughly or efficiently as men, at least it is for them
greater toil than for the sterner sex. Of a more delicate organisation,
of less robust frame, of smaller powers of endurance, the "buffets of
fortune" meet with less resistance, and are more readily yielded to.
Added to this, men have the advantage of being early trained to the
habit of work which many of our girls have not, and they have greater
facilities afforded them for outdoor exercise, of which they very
readily avail themselves. These are all advantages which women do not
possess, or if they do, it is after a careful course of acquired
systematic training with a view to meet those demands upon their health
and strength which are entailed by the continued and steady application
to one branch of labour or to one particular profession. There is no
doubt that a girl cannot take up an engagement which demands her daily
presence at a stated place and at a given time, to perform duties which
perhaps require the concentration of mental powers, and very frequently
the maintenance of the body in one position for many hours together.
There is no doubt, we repeat, that unless such avocations are begun and
continued with decidedly common-sense views as to diet, hygiene, and
general deportment, but little time will elapse ere our girl will
succumb for a greater or less period to the unusual fatigue and the
unwonted restrictions to which she has to submit.
It is fatal in such cases to regard health from a careless or
indifferent standpoint. It is a question which must be considered by
every one of the legion of working girls and women who labour for their
own, and often for others' bread. Looking at it from the most practical
standpoint, it will be found to be the greatest economy in the end. If
the health is kept at a fair standard of excellence, the mental powers
are maintained in a state of useful energy. As soon as health is below
par, even when not sufficiently so as to force us to desist from work,
the brain loses its elasticity; we are dull, become mere machines
instead of intelligent workers, and our duty gets irksome and fails to
interest us. And here let us interpose one word. If we wish to spare
ourselves that most wearying of all sensations, that fatal sense of
boredom and disgust for our daily task which sometimes creeps in upon
us, we must try with all our hearts to take an interest in what our
hands find to do. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do that do with thy
might." It is not only right to think and act up to this; it is the
greatest wisdom also; for our own comfort and happiness. Work done with
a will only takes half the time in doing. The hours fly, and the sense
of weariness has no time to creep in. This is a spirit, it will be
found, which can be easily cultivated, and will, after a little effort,
come quite naturally, much to our benefit in every way.
It has seemed to us, in spite of the great advance that has been made in
the teaching of hygiene, and the possession by many of a fair knowledge
of the laws which govern it, that there is still a lamentable want of
practicability in its application; that is to say, the theories we
learn, and to which we subscribe, are rarely, and then very imperfectly,
carried out in actual individual life. We grant that great improvements
are visible on all sides, in what we might term general hygiene; but
where we perceive a great deficiency still, is in that personal
application of the laws of health which must and can only be properly
applied by individuals to themselves, so as to make them fit into the
circumstances under which they exist.
It will not help our girls much, for instance, to have learnt the number
of cubic feet of oxygen that is necessary for turning the purple blood
into scarlet--the amount of nitrogenous, phosphatic, carbonaceous, and
other elements which are requisite for building up new tissue, etc.,
etc., and many other dry facts of a kindred nature, if she does not put
this knowledge to practical use. There is a wide division between facts
thus learnt off glibly at school and the practical application of them
to our daily wants.
The human body, if it is to be maintained in but a fair state of health,
requires a certain amount of fresh air--a certain amount of
flesh-forming, bone-forming, brain-forming, and warmth-giving nutriment.
Our girls require to have a tolerable, if not exactly a faultless,
circulation, in order that these various foodstuffs may be digested,
_i.e._, converted into these flesh, bone, and brain-forming tissues. In
order to have a tolerable circulation, the body must have a regular
amount of exercise and of fresh air. There, in a nutshell, is the secret
of the whole matter. Given a fairly normal state of health to begin
with, that health may be maintained by a little wise direction of our
actions towards supplying the really very moderate demands of Nature,
upon which, however, modest as they are, she insists, to enable her to
carry on the process of healthy life. Deprive her of that little, and
the results are such as we too frequently see--broken-down health from
overwork (so-called) of many of our busy sisters. It is our intention
here to endeavour to put this plainly before our girls.
We will imagine, then, that some of our girls have to pass many--say
eight or ten--hours of their days in work; that that work is sedentary
work; that our girls are very apt to stoop, for their poor backs get
weary sometimes. We will imagine that it is winter, and sitting as they
do all day, they like to have all the windows closed. Our girls will not
feel very hungry when meal-time comes, especially if they have to
provide their own meals. In fact, many of our girls practise a little
economy in this direction, if the choice of doing so rests with them.
Economy, we all know, is imperative in many conditions of life--not only
amongst working girls; and it is a serious matter to practise it
wisely--to determine and mark clearly the line that divides the luxuries
from the necessities. In the former practise as much economy as you
will; in the latter it is only a false way of meeting matters which will
have to be balanced by-and-by with heavy interest.
Well, our girls not being very hungry (for their lungs are full of
impure air, and they feel tired and weary--rather sleepy too--all from
the same cause), they think they will make themselves "a nice cup of
tea--strong, you know." They do not care whether they have milk with it
or not, so long as the tea is strong and gives them a fillip. With this
they will eat a little roll and butter or bread and cheese. This
so-called meal is either partaken of in the room in which they work, or
our girls go out for it. In the latter case they stand a little better
chance; for often the fact of going out of the room in which they have
been seated all the morning brings with it a sense of returning
appetite, and induces them to procure a more substantial meal. But even
this is rarely the case; for they have an odd sinking at the chest, and
if they eat a heavy meal and sit down directly after it, they get that
weight behind their waistbands, they cannot breathe, and they feel
altogether miserable. They do not feel like this, they think, after the
good, strong tea--the clearest proof to them that they should look to it
as a main resource during the midday rest. Probably tea is again hailed
with delight during another break in the work-hours; and at the end of
the day our weary one is so fearfully tired, although she has been
sitting all day, that she feels as though her limbs would never carry
her home. Come what may, she must ride. She puts herself into the first
Underground Railway carriage that will take her to her destination, and,
exchanging the carbonic acid gas of the workroom for the sulphurous gas
of the underground tunnels, she arrives home spent and utterly tired
out, longing to get to bed and rest her weary limbs and pillow the poor,
fatigued head. In the morning, feeling refreshed after Nature's kind and
grateful rest, she plucks up again and walks to the scene of her duties.
But she has to be there by a certain time, and, somehow, she always
manages to be just a little late in starting, so that at the last she
has to hurry to arrive at the appointed hour. She looks at every clock
she passes; she starts at some which tell her that it is later than she
thought, feels relieved at others which are more merciful; and, putting
on an extra spurt at the last, manages to arrive just to the minute.
But what good can our girl get from a walk taken under such
circumstances? It is ten times as fatiguing--the mind is harassed, the
heart is beating wildly, and the breathing is short and hurried.
The routine of the previous day is then repeated. There is the same
shyness of air, the same imperfect meal, the same lassitude, the same
finale.
Pursue this course, or one similar to it, for a few months and we defy
any girl to keep well. She may not yet break down altogether, but she
will have lapsed from positive into negative health, and the merest
straw may turn her negative health into actual bodily incapacity--which
means the loss of work and wages to which we have referred.
And is it to be wondered at? Our girl has been steadily withholding
from Nature all those elements upon which she imperatively insists as
the condition under which alone she will consent to carry on her work.
Long-suffering she is, and ever eager to repair any neglect that has not
been carried too far. Only return to the right path, and she busily sets
to work to make good the ravages which have followed upon our ignorance
or neglect of her laws. But it must be the right path. None other will
do. She will not be cajoled into working with any other than her own
simple tools.
Our girls have withheld from her air, food, exercise--the three great
factors of her powers--and have given for them miserable substitutes.
Though kind, she cannot be put off with excuses. She is inexorable, and
the same results will follow our neglect of her laws, whether it be due
to a want of acquaintance with them or want of attention. It is as much,
if not more, from these causes, then, that our girl has become ill than
from the supposed overwork. Overwork might have been the immediate
cause; that is to say, her collapse might have followed upon a little
extra pressure or hurry of work; but the real cause will be found to lie
in that steady neglect of the primary laws of health to which we have
alluded, and upon which too much emphasis cannot be laid. Had it not
been so, the fatigue engendered by an extra hour's work would have been
set right by a good night's rest.
And when our girl is ill, her recovery will depend upon the degree to
which she is enabled to meet the demands of Nature. If she can have
plenty of rest, peace of mind, fresh air, light, digestible, and
nourishing food, sunshine, and genial surroundings, she will soon be
herself again. But if our brave worker has not these indispensables, or
has them in a chance, get-me-if-you-can sort of way, then she lingers
on, and often rises from her couch but half cured, and plunges on again
under the old conditions, until something occurs which some persons call
"a chance," some by another name, which mercifully changes the current
of her life for a while, or perhaps for a permanency.
It is said that "men do work while women weep." That is part of an
old-time ditty. In this generation women do not leave all the work to
their brothers, and we will hope that in proportion as we work more, so
we weep less. And women are not to be pitied that it is so. Work is one
of the greatest of blessings, and when its aim is high, is, we believe,
blessed. There is no reason why our work should be irksome to us, or
should be aught but a pleasure. We must make up our minds to a certain
number of disagreeables, and be prepared to meet them as they arise; but
beyond that we should endeavour to take a pleasure in our work and a
pride in its correct fulfilment. This will be easy to do with health,
but without it will require more moral resolution than many of us
possess.
Let us then turn this subject over in our minds and see if nothing can
be done to make matters a little smoother; to enable us to be happy in
our work-a-day lives; to lessen the chances of becoming ill, and, in
spite of circumstances, to meet Nature's demands in one way or another.
First, then, as to air. That early morning walk is a good thing. It is
well to get the lungs filled with pure morning air. Even in the London
streets the air is tolerably good at that time. But many of our girls
live a little way from the crowded streets, and only come into them for
business or professional purposes. Some live too far to walk the whole
distance into town. If that is the case, they should ride part of the
distance. They should choose for the walking that part of the route
which has the most trees about it, going a little out of their way even
to walk through one of the parks or squares. They should not hurry, but
should take care previously to allow themselves ample time. This can
quite well be done by a little management, and when our girls are imbued
with a sense of its importance we are sure will be. They should, if
possible, meet one of their companions who is going the same way, and
should chat to their hearts' content. (We are not afraid of the
non-performance of this part of our prescription.) This will exercise
the lungs, send plenty of fresh air into them, and lessen fatigue. A
walk, under such conditions, is of untold value.
Our girl then will begin her day in better spirits. She will feel in a
lighter mood; difficulties will be brushed aside. Instead of a furtive
glance at the clock, and a thankful gasp that she has arrived in time,
she will never think of the hour till she enters the room, for she has
not troubled her mind about it, knowing she has given herself ample
time. With all the arts of persuasion at her command she will then seek
to lead her companions to have the windows open, just a chink or two at
the top; and will gradually lead them round to her own conviction of the
necessity for fresh air, and of the great desirability there is for an
outlet for the carbonised air which is being emitted by one and all from
their lungs. Before long she will have gained her point, and the open
window will be a daily fact.
We are speaking now, of course, of our sensible girl, the one who has
taken in the justice of our remarks, and who intends to act up to them
as far as she can.
At luncheon time she will produce from her store some well cut
sandwiches, made preferably with brown bread, and, with heroic
determination, refuse tea (for it is hard to give up a habit), and will,
instead, regale herself with a glass of milk, or a cup of cocoa; or, if
she has neither of these, she will make a little strong beef-tea of
Liebig's extract of meat, and partake of it with her roll and butter,
remembering that, by the addition of an egg, she will make her broth
more sustaining.
If she goes out to a restaurant and does not care for meat, she will
recollect that its properties may be found more or less in eggs, in
milk, in lentils, in haricot beans, in oatmeal, and in peas. Oatmeal
porridge and milk form an excellent, inexpensive, and nutritious lunch
or midday dinner. In some form or other one of these nitrogenous foods
should be taken during the midday meal; and, if the taste and finances
permit, should be supplemented by a little fresh, stewed, or dried
fruit. Fruit is most wholesome, and is well enclosed within the border
line of necessities.
Then, when tea time comes round, our sensible girl will either take milk
again, or else will dilute her tea largely with milk, or, failing that,
with water, and will refuse altogether to drink tea that has "stood" for
more than a quarter of an hour. In the evening she will feel less tired
(_i.e._, less exhausted from want of air and food), and will repeat her
method of procedure of the morning on her journey home. Arrived there,
she will feel far less weary and exhausted, and will enjoy a quiet,
social evening, a book, a little music, or some such relaxation.
But we can hear her, O. S. G., saying, after pursuing this _régime_ for
awhile, "It is true I am better in a great many ways, but I do still
have back-ache, I do still have the weight in my chest, which I know now
to be indigestion; you say nothing about that. Even your pea-soup or
your oatmeal porridge punishes me, and make me wish we could altogether
live without eating."
Be not so impatient, my dear sensible one, we are coming to that now.
One great reason of your back-ache is that stoop of yours. You seem to
think it essential to maintain your spine in the shape of the letter C.
You have got into a very bad habit, and if you try now to sit upright
you get as tired as possible--your back, too, is not the only sufferer;
your digestive organs are all cruelly cramped--all the delicate
machinery, by the aid of which occur the changes of the food in its
conversion to the different bodily tissues, is impeded in its action, is
hemmed in, is fretted. Instead of a free circulation, and an unimpeded
course between all the channels of communication, the functions of
digestion are carried on with difficulty, and the stooping pose is the
cause of many other complications into which we have not space to enter
here.
We have said that exercise is necessary. A great part of that is indeed
gained by the walk to and from business. But that is not sufficient.
Indeed, we do not consider that walking exercise, exclusive of any
other, is sufficient to keep the body in health; but in the instance we
are imagining it is especially insufficient. The body ill brooks being
kept in one posture for any length of time; and during sedentary
occupation some of the muscles are maintained in a state of extension,
whilst others are as unduly kept in a state of relaxation. These
relative conditions, kept up as they are for hours and hours, cannot
fail to have their marked results on the health of our girl. If she were
at home, she would throw her work aside, get up and walk about a little,
or run upstairs to stretch out her limbs; but in business this is not to
be thought of; so she must bear it as best she can. Not so, say we.
There is even here a remedy--even here a way of procuring an immense
amount of relief. Our only fear for its adoption, however, rests in its
extreme simplicity. But when our girl thinks a little more she will
learn that all really great and effective things are simple, and that it
is only their useless wrappings that blind people to their real simple
grandeur. We shall give O. S. G. our remedy in its modest garb of
truthfulness, and she will, we think, not reject it. We would advise
her, then, three or four times during the day, to stand upright by her
chair--she need not even move from her place--throw her shoulders back,
stretch her head up, expand her chest, and arch the spine well inwards,
remaining in that position for at least half a minute. This will
entirely change the posture of all the muscles, those which before were
expanded being now contracted, and _vice versâ_. She will then send her
arms straight up over her head, and either bring them down from there
like a wheel, or, if she has not room for this, will bend her arms so as
to form a V with each arm, the two points of the V being respectively
the shoulder and hand and the lower point the elbow. If done properly,
this will beautifully expand the chest, and will contract the muscles of
the back both laterally and longitudinally. Our girl must take care,
however, to keep her head very erect, if she would have the whole
benefit of the exercise. The whole business occupies about a minute and
a half; it is as easy and as simple as breathing; and, we repeat, its
usefulness is not to be measured.
The chief difficulty in this part of our _régime_, after its extreme
simplicity, will lie in its novelty. It will seem absurd and ridiculous
to those who do not understand these matters, but O. S. G. will have to
learn to bear the ridicule of others some time during her life, and she
might as well begin now. She may be sure that only those will laugh at
her whose opinions are not worth considering, and if she quietly
persists in doing what is right, the ridicule will first be changed into
respect, and then into imitation.
O. S. G. must remember that her health is her all. At least, it is the
all of the girl of whom we are speaking. Now, it is most imperative that
she should guard that health as she would a treasure. Once aware of the
simple rules which must be observed to that end, she will shape her
actions so as to make them fit in with the circumstances of her life.
The dress of our girl workers is also a point to be considered. It
should be durable, suitable, comfortable, and should be made simply and
practically. The dress is far better when made in one, _i.e._, not
divided at the waist, then the weight of the garment is equally
distributed over the body, from the waist and shoulders. There should be
no steels or kindred impediments, which have to be considered in sitting
down. A durable wool material, thicker in winter, thinner and lighter in
colour and texture in summer, is always the most durable, and keeps its
freshness longer. The bodice should fit well and comfortably at the neck
and round the arm-holes, so that there is no pressure anywhere.
For a working gown there is nothing, in our opinion, to equal the
princess dress, made to clear the ground, and modernised, if our girl
wills, by a flouncing, and a little puffed drapery behind, either with
or without a scarf loosely tied round the waist.
For slender girls the round-gathered dress and bodice (in one) are very
useful and suitable. The principal advantage of the princess dress is
its continuity from the shoulders downwards, leaving the waist free of
bands and tapes. With spotless collars and cuffs, our girl will be both
suitably and well dressed. A good woollen combination under-garment for
warmth and protection from the cold, thicker in winter, thinner in
summer. One, or at the most two, woollen petticoats, made with sloping
bands, to prevent pressure at the waist, will form a very comfortable
and practical dress, and, moreover, one that will present a very fair
appearance.
No, we know we have said nothing about stays; we are no friend to them;
we dislike them heartily, and we shall never rest until we can release
our girls from their trammels. We know the difficulties that present
themselves on all sides, but these can be met and overcome. Once release
our girls from this bone and steel bondage, her health will rise to a
high state of excellence. But she has so accustomed herself to use her
stays as a prop upon which she leans, that not without great resolution
on her part will she consent to pass through the small discomfort of the
change.
Once she has done so, however, she will wonder that she never thought of
it before, so light, so free, so agile will she feel. These stays are
our girls' worst foes, and have as much to answer for the indigestion as
all else put together.
If our girls wish to be happy, merry workers, as well as hard,
responsible workers, they will have to learn to do without stays; they
will have to train their own muscles to supply them with the support
they now seek in the corset.
"How are we to do this?" we hear some exclaim, who have followed us so
far. "How are we, who work from morn till eve, to begin 'training our
muscles?' We have no time now for that sort of thing."
Get a little more patience, dear girls. Reforms go slowly, but steadily,
if willing hearts go together. We hope ere long to show you that this,
too, is possible.
Meantime, for an immediate step in the right direction, let us urge upon
those who have not the courage to throw aside the corset, to set about
rendering it less harmful. Let the working corset be soft, and denuded
of its bones, and let the front steel be exchanged for a very flexible
one, and let the stays, above all, be very loosely laced. We feel we are
weak in conceding thus much even, but we look upon it as the thin end of
the wedge, which represents the fulfilment of our aim.
We think we have now said enough to set our girls thinking, and though
we have far from exhausted our subject, we hope that each reader will be
able to deduce some hints which may be applicable to herself.