Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/398

5, 1859.] the Erebus  and  Terror,  it is  not  likely  that  those quitted their  ships  in poor  fellows  would  have a season so  rigorous, and  so  long before the  Great Fish River  would be open  for  navigation. We should be the  last  to  say this, if  there  were a shadow of  founda- tion for farther  hope, either to  save  life or to  obtain  such records as  would throw more  light on the  labours  and zeal of  those  noble ships’ companies.

As those  men  fell in their  last  sad  struggle  to  reach  home,  their prayer must  have  been  that  their  countrymen  might learn how  nobly  they accomplished the task they  had  voluntarily undertaken. That prayer  has  been granted. As long  as Britain  exists,  or  our language is  spoken, so long  will  be  remembered and  related the  glorious fate of  the  crews of the  Erebus  and Terror, and  how nobly they  died  in the  execution  of their  duty  to  their Queen and  country.

DRESS AND  ITS  VICTIMS.

There are  a good  many  people  who  cannot possibly believe  that  dress  can  have  any  share  in the  deaths  of  the  100,000  persons  who  go  needlessly to  the  grave  every  year  in  our  happy England, where  there  are  more  means  of  comfort  for everybody than  in  any  other  country  in  Europe.

How can  people  be  killed  by  dress,  now-a-days? they ask. We must  be  thinking  of  the  old  times when the  ladies  laced  so  tight  that  “salts  and strong waters  ” seem  to  have  been  called  for  to some  fainting  fair  one,  as  often  as  numbers  were collected together,  whether  at  church,  or  at  Ranelagh,  or  the  theatres. Or perhaps  we  are  thinking of the  accidents  that  have  happened  during particular fashions  of  dress,  as  the  burning  of  the Marchioness of  Salisbury,  from  her  high  cap  nodding over  the  candle; or  the  deaths  of  the  Ladies Bridgeman last  year,  from  the  skirts  of  one  of  them catching fire  at  the  grate; or  the  number  of inquests  held  during  the  fashion  of  gigot-sleeves, when a lady  could  scarcely  dine  in  company,  or play  the  piano  at  home,  without  peril  of  death  by fire.

Perhaps it  may  be  the  heavy,  towering  head-dresses of  the  last  century  we  may  be  thinking of, bringing  in  a crowd  of  bad  symptoms,  headaches, congestions, fits,  palsies,  with  the  fearful  remedies  of bleeding  and  reducing,  which  we  read  of  in  medical books,  and  in  gossiping  literature,  like  Horace Walpole’s correspondence. Or we  may  even  be thinking  of  the  barbaric  fashion  of  painting  the face, neck,  and  hands,  at  one  time  carried  on  to  the excess of  enamelling  the  skin. That was  not  at  so very  remote  a time; for  I have  heard  from  the lips of  witnesses  what  it  was  like; and  a friend  of mine,  yet  living,  can  tell  what  she  saw  at  a concert where  a lady  sat  before  her  with  a pair  of broad  shoulders  which  looked  like  tawny  marble, — as smooth,  as  shining,  and  as  little  like  anything human. These shoulders  were  once  enamelled, and may  have  looked  white  in  their  day; but  no life-long  pains  to  renew  their  whiteness  -would serve after  a certain  lapse  of  time; and  there they were,  hopeless,  tawny,  and  the  quality  of the  skin  destroyed. The poisonings  by  means  of cosmetics  we  read  of  in  the  history  of  past  centuries, may  have  been  sometimes  intentional; but there was  plenty  of  unconscious  poisoning  besides.

We do  not,  however,  mean  any  of  these  things when we  speak  of  dress,  in  connection  with  preventive mortality.

Perhaps I may  be  supposed  to  be  referring  to the  notoriously  afflicted  and  short-lived  classes  of milliners  and  slop- workers  who  are  worn  out  and killed off  in  the  cause  of  dress. No; I am not now going  to  bring  forward  their  case,  because  it comes  under  a different  head. At this  moment I am not  thinking  of  either  the  political  economy or the  general  morality  of  the  dress-question,  or I should  bring  up  the  group  of  suicides  who  have perished, some  from  hopeless  poverty,  some  from intolerable degradation,  and  some  from  the  embarrassment of  gambling  debts  incurred  for  the  sake of dress.

If the  secrets  of  the  city  were  known,  we  might hear of  more  tragedies  than  the  theatres  show, from the  spread  of  gambling  among  women,  and especially among  servant-girls  and  shop-women, who have  been  carried  beyond  bounds  by  the extravagant fashion  of  the  day. But I am  not speaking of  suicides,  nor  of  the  victims  of  the needle, whose  case  is  too  grave  to  be  treated lightly, and  whose  day  of  deliverance,  too,  is  at hand,  if  the  sewing-machine  is  the  reality  it appears — and  not  a phantom — cheating  the  hopes of thousands. We may  possibly  look  into  that another time. Meanwhile our  business  is  with the injurious  and  sometimes  murderous  effect  of dress  which  we  see  worn  every  day.

It will  not  seem  so  wonderful  that  the  familiar clothing of  our  neighbours  and  ourselves  may  be  of such  importance  when  we  remember  the  explanations of  physicians — that  dress  may,  and  usually does, affect  the  condition  and  action  of  almost