Few circumstances are more injurious to beauty than the constrained
movement, suffused complexion, and labored respiration that betray
tight-lacing. The play of intelligence, and varied emotion, which throw
such a charm over the brow of youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs
the flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. In Greece, where
the elements of beauty and grace were earliest comprehended, and most
happily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was left untortured.
But the influence of this habit on beauty is far less to be deprecated
than its effects upon health. That pulmonary disease, affections of the
heart, and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some of our
fairest and dearest to Fashion's shrine to die, is placed beyond a doubt
by strong medical testimony.
Dr. Mussey, whose "_Lectures on Intemperance_" have so forcibly arrested
the attention of the public, asserts that "greater numbers annually die
among the female sex, in consequence of tight-lacing, than are destroyed
among the other sex by the use of spirituous liquors in the same time."
Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in our own native land,
lay, with their own hand, the foundation of diseases that destroy
life!--and are willing, for fashion's sake, to commit suicide!
Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for the Insane, in
Connecticut, to whom science and philanthropy are indebted, adduces many
instances of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation on the brain.
Being requested by the instructress of a large female seminary to
enforce on her pupils the evils of compression in dress, he said, with
that eloquence of eye and soul, which none, who once felt their
influence, can ever forget: "The whole course of your studies, my dear
young ladies, conspires to impress you with reverence for antiquity.
Especially do you turn to Greece for the purest models in the fine arts,
and the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting, as disciples, at
the feet of her men of august minds, you may have sometimes doubted how
to balance, or where to bestow your admiration. The acuteness of
Aristotle--the purity of Plato--the calm, unrepented satisfaction of
Socrates--the varied lore of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno,
have alternately attracted or absorbed your attention. Permit me to
suppose, that the high-toned ethics of the Stoics, and their elevation
of mind, which could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud
lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your peculiar complaisance.
Yet, while meting out to them the full measure of your applause, have
you ever recollected that modern times--that your own country came in
competition for a share of fame! Has it occurred to you that your own
sex--even the most delicate and tender part of it--exceeded the ancient
Stoics in the voluntary infliction of pain, and extinction of pity? Yes;
some of the timid and beautiful members of this seminary may enter the
lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysippus, and cherish no slight hope
of victory. I trust to prove to you that the ancient and sublime Stoics
were very tyros in comparison with many a lady of our own times. In
degree of suffering, extent of endurance, and in perfection of
concealment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, that, its most
illustrious masters--fruitful as they were in tests to try the
body--never invented, imagined, nor would have been able to sustain that
torture of tight-lacing which the modern belle steadily inflicts without
shrinking, and bears without repining sometimes to her very grave. True,
they might sometimes have broken a bone, or plucked out an eye, and been
silent; but they never grappled iron and whalebone into the very nerves
and life-blood of their system. They might possibly have passed a dagger
too deeply info the heart, and died; but they never drew a ligature of
suffocation around it, and _expected to live_! They never tied up the
mouths of the millions of air-vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them
to the full measure of action and respiration. Even Pharaoh only
demanded bricks without straw for a short time; but the fashionable lady
asks to live without breathing for many years!
"The ancient Stoics taught that the nearest approach to apathy was the
perfection of their doctrine. They prudently rested in utter
indifference; they did not attempt to go beyond it; they did not claim
absolute denial of all suffering; still less did they enjoin to persist
and rejoice in it, even to the 'dividing asunder of soul and body.' In
this, too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a flight beyond
the sublime philosopher. She will not admit that she feels the slightest
inconvenience. Though she has fairly won laurels to which no Stoic dared
aspire, yet she studiously disclaims the distinction which she faced
death to earn--yea, denies that she has either part of lot in the
matter; surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all that antiquity
can boast or history record."
We quote the following from Miss Sedgwick: "One word as to these small
waists: Symmetry is essential to beauty of form. A waist
disproportionately small is a deformity to an instructed eye. Women must
have received their notions of small waists from ignorant dress-makers.
If young ladies could hear the remarks made on these small waists by men
generally, and especially men of taste, they would never again show
themselves till they had loosened their corset-laces and enlarged their
belts."