Читать книгу Our Girls - Dio Lewis - Страница 23

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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,

Oh! how I long for thee;

When will my sorrows have an end?

Thy joys when shall I see?"

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

and executed scores of little plans for our amusement, while the

Misses Languid were the recipients of attentions from us all. The

Misses Vigorous ran over and flooded us all, while the Misses

Languid absorbed from us all.

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?