This may be thy picture, lovely daughter of Albion! Make thyself, then worthy of the likeness, and thou wilt fulfil the fondest wish of thine unknown friend.
APPENDIX.
ON THE USE OF CORSETS.
The following pages are abridged by an eminent English physician from an Essay on the Use of Corsets, by Soemmerring, the German physiologist:
Fashion lives on novelty, and we have on this account much charity for its wanderings and eccentricities. Bonnets, with a snout as long as an elephant’s proboscis, or a margin as broad as a Winchester bushel, are merely ridiculous. Shoulders that look like wings, and sleeves as wide as a petticoat, we think are not particularly graceful; but they have at least the merit of being airy, and we take no offence. We cannot, however, extend our indulgence to the compressed waist, which is the rage at present. We know that as often as the waist is lengthened to its natural limits, this tendency to abridge its diameter appears; and we confess we are puzzled to account for the fact; for surely it is strange, that a permanent prepossession should exist in favor of a mode of dress which is at once ugly, unnatural, and pernicious. Were fashion under the guidance of taste, the principles of drapery in painting and sculpture would never be lost sight of in its changes. The clothes that cover us may be disposed in an infinite variety of forms, without violating those rules which the artist is careful to observe. The true form of the body ought to be disclosed to the eye, without the shape being exhibited in all its minutiæ, as in the dress of a harlequin; but in no case should the natural proportions (supposing the figure to be good) be changed. Ask the sculptor what he thinks of a fashionable waist, pinched till it rivals the lady’s neck in tenuity, and he will tell you it is monstrous. Consult the physician, and you will learn that this is one of those follies in which no female can long indulge with impunity; for health, and even life, are often sacrificed to it.
Corsets are used partly as a warm covering to the chest, and partly to furnish a convenient attachment to other parts of the female dress. This is all proper and correct; but to these uses fashion superadds others, originating in fantastical notions of beauty. Corsets are employed to modify the shape, to render the chest as small below, and as broad above, as possible, and to increase the elevation, fulness, and prominence of the bosom. To show how this affects the condition of the body, we must begin by giving a short description of the thorax or chest, which is the subject of this artificial compression.
Every one who has seen a skeleton, knows that the chest consists of a cavity protected by a curious frame-work of bones. These are, 1st, the back-bone, (consisting of vertebræ, or short bones jointed into one another,) which sustains the whole upper part of the trunk; 2d, the breast-bone, about seven or eight inches long, and composed of three pieces; and 3dly, the ribs, of which there are generally twentyfour. The twelve ribs on each side are all fixed to the back-bone behind; seven of these, the seven uppermost, are also attached to the breast-bone before, and are, therefore, called true ribs. The eighth rib has its end turned up, and rests on the seventh; the ninth rests in the same way on the eighth; but the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth are not connected with one another in front at all. The fore extremity of each rib consists not of bone, but of an elastic substance called cartilage. The elasticity of this substance, combined with the oblique position of the ribs, constitutes a beautiful provision, in consequence of which the chest enlarges and contracts its volume, to afford free play to the lungs.
We now wish to call attention to the form of this cavity, which, as we have seen, is surrounded and protected by the back-bone, ribs, and breast-bone, and is called the thorax, or chest. The uppermost pair of ribs, which lie just at the bottom of the neck, are very short; the next pair is rather longer; the third longer still; and thus they go on increasing in length to the seventh pair, or last true ribs, after which the length diminishes, but without materially contracting the size of the cavity, because the false ribs only go round a part of the body. Hence the chest has a sort of conical shape, or it may be compared to the bee-hives used in this country, the narrow or pointed end being next the neck, and the broad end undermost. The natural form of the thorax, in short, is just the reverse of the fashionable shape of the waist. The latter is narrow below, and wide above; the former is narrow above, and wide below.
The lower part of the thorax is also much more compressible, and of course more easily injured by ligatures than the upper. In the upper part, the bones form a complete circle; and, from the small obliquity of the ribs, this circle presents a great power of resistance to external pressure. But the last five ribs, called the false ribs, besides being placed more obliquely, become weaker as they decrease in length, and having no support in front, their power of resisting external pressure is probably six times less than that of the true ribs. Hence ligatures applied to this part of the body may contract the natural size of the cavity perhaps one half. Nature, in this instance, has entrusted the belle with a discretionary power, guarding against its abuse, however, by severe penalties. If she chooses to brave the consequences, she may always, with the help of lace and cord, produce a great change on this part of her person.
From the great care nature has bestowed to strengthen the outer shell of the thorax, and to combine mobility with strength, we may judge of the importance of the organs within, and of the value of free motion to their healthy action. It is a further proof of this, as Soemmerring observes, that the ribs are the first part of the bony frame-work which nature forms; for, in the unborn child, no other bones except those of the ear are so perfect. The contents of the thorax are,—first, the heart, which is the centre of the circulating system, and which, for the sake of its metaphorical offices, every lady must be anxious to keep from injury;—next, the lungs, which occupy by far the largest space, and of the delicacy of whose operations every one may judge. There are, besides, either within the thorax, or in juxtaposition with it, the stomach, liver, and kidneys, with the œsophagus, the trachea, or windpipe, part of the intestines, and many nerves, all intimately connected with the vital powers. Most of these organs are not only of primary importance in themselves, but, through the nerves, arteries, &c., their influence extends to the head, and the remotest parts of the limbs, so that when they are injured, health is poisoned at its source, and the mischief always travels to other parts of the system.