SLAVERY OF THE DRESSMAKERS OF LONDON.

New Zealander, Volume 9, Issue 769, 27 August 1853, Page 3

SLAVERY OF THE DRESSMAKERS OF LONDON.

[F;om the “ Times.”] What is slavery? “A slave,” says Dr. Noah Webster, in his dictionary published at New | York, “is a person wholly subject to the will of; another; one who has no will of his own, but | whose person and services are wholly under 1 ho j control of another.” The learned lexicographer —and surely at New York men should he ac- ; quninfed with the rights of the subject—pro- j cecils to inform ns that in the early ages of the I world prisoners of war were considered and treated as slaves. “ The slaves of modern | limes,” he adds, “arc generally purchased like horses or oxen." Our own Dr. Johnson defines a slave as being one “mancipated (o a master—not a free man—a dependent—one who has lost the power of resistance.” Mr. Charles Richard- | son, on (he other hand, considers a slave as a ; person “who is reduced to captivity —(o seniiude—to bondage; who is hound or compelled to serve, labour, or (oil for another.” There is always some little trouble about a definition, j and probably it requires Use cobbling and filing 1 of more than one generation to produce any- ! thing like a perfect one. There are, however, , certain conditions of life which any lexicographer ; would endeavour to include in his dragnet, if he were attempting to give a definition of sla- | very. We are all agreed about the I’ncle Toms and coloured population ofdhe southern stales of the American Onion. They arc slaves—not only in name hut in fact—kindly treated, we believe, in the majority of instances—but still essentially slaves. When we endeavour lo go a lit lie further we find ourselves considerably embarrassed. A man is the slave of his own bad passions,—of bis lust after gain or power. But this will scarcely do, for by enlarging the definition 100 much the essence and reality of the tiling (o he defined is altogether lost. ft may perhaps he heller lo begin at (lie other end, and ascend from particulars lo generals. Granting that the negro gangs who are worked on the cotton grounds of the southern stales of North America, or in the sugar plantations of Brazil, are slaves, in what way should we speak of persons who are circumstanced in the manner we are about to relate? Let us consider them as inhabitants of a distant region—say of New Orleans— no matter about the colour of their skins, and then ask ourselves what should be our opinion of a nation in which such things are tolerated. They arc of a sex and age the least qualified to struggle with (he hardships of their lot —young women, for (he most part,. between 1G and 30 years of age. As we would not deal in exaggerations, we would premise that we take them at their busy season, just as writers upon American slavery are careful to select the season of cottonpicking and sugarcrushing as illustrations of their theories. The young female slaves, then, of whom we speak, are worked in gangs in ill-ventilated rooms, or rooms that are not ventilated at all, for it is found by experience that, if air be admitted, it brings with it “blacks” of another kind, which damage the work upon which the seamstresses are employed. Their occupation is lo sew from morning (ill night and night till morning—stitch, stitch, stitch, without pause—-without speech—without a smile-'—without a sigh. In (he gray of the morning they must be at work —say at 6 o’clock—having a quarter of an hour allowed for breaking their fast. T he food served out lo them is scanty ami miserable enough, but still, in all probability, more than their fevered system can digest. We do not, however, wish U> make vul a case of starvation; the sufJVring

is of another kind-—equally dreadful of endurance. From 0 o’clock, then, till 11 it is stitch, stitch. At II a small piece of dry bread is served to each seamstress, but still she must stitch on. At 1 o'clock, 20 minutes are allowed for dinner —a slice of meal and a potato, with a glass of toasl-and-waler to each workwoman. Then again to work—stitch, stitch—until ti o'clock, when lo minutes are again allowed f r tea. The needles are then set in motion once more stitch, stitch —until 9 o'clock when J 5 minutes arc allowed for supper, a piece of dry bread and cheese, and a glass of hecr. From nine o’clock at night until one, two, and three o’clock in the morning, stitch, stitch ; the only break in this long period being a minute or l\vo--jual time enough to swallow a cup of strong lea, which is supplied lest the young people should “ feel sleepy.” At three o’clock a.m., to bed ; at six o’clock a.m., out of it again to resume the duties of the following day. There must he a good deal of monotony in (he occupation. But when we have said that for certain months of the year these unfortunate young persons are worked in the manner we describe, we have not said all. Even during (he few hours allotted to sleep—should we not rather say to a feverish cessation from toil? —their miseries continue. They arc cooped up in sleeping pens, ten in a room which would perhaps he sufficient for the accommodation of two persons. The alternation is from the treadmill —and what a treadmill! —(o the Black Hole of Calculla, Not a word of remonstrance is allowed, or is possible. The seamstresses may leave Ihe mill, no doubl, hut what awaits them on the other side of the door?—starvation, if they he honest—if not, in all probability, prostitution and its consequences. They would scarcely escape from slavery that way. Surely this is a very terrible stale of things, and one which claims Ihe anxious consideration of the ladies af England, who have pronounced themselves so loudly against the horrors of negro slavery in the United Slates. Had this system of oppression against persons of (heir own sex been really exercised in New Oilcans, it would have elicited from them many expressions of sympathy for the sufferers, and of abhorence for Ihe cruel taskmasters who could so cruelly overwork wretched creatures, so unfitted to the toil. It is idle to use any further mystification in the matter. The scenes of misery we have described exist at our own doors, and in (he most fashionable quarters of luxurious London. It is in the dressmaking and millinery establishments of the “ West end' that the system is steadily pursued. The continuous labour is bestowed upon the gay garments in which (he “ladies of England” love to adorn themselves. It is to satisfy their whims and caprices that their wretched sisters undergo these days and nights of suffering and toil. It is hut right that we should con'css Ihe fault docs not lie so much at Hie door of the customers as with lire principals of these establishments. ihe milliners and dressmakers of the metropolis will not employ hands enough lo do Ihe worlu They increase their profits from Ihe blood and life of the wretched creatures in their employ. Certainly the prices charged for articles of dress at any of the great West-end establishments arc sufficiently high—as most English heads of families know to (heir cost—lo enable the proprietors to retain a competent staff of workpeople, and at the same lime to secure a very handsome profit lo themselves. Wherein, then, lies the remedy? Will the case of these poor seamstresses be bettered if Ihe ladies of England abstain partially, or in great measure, from ghing their usual orders lo their usual houses? In that case it may lie said some of the seamstresses will he dismissed lo starvation, and the remainder will he overworked as before. We freely confess we do not see our way through (he difficulty; for we hold (he most improbable event in oiir social arrangements !o he Ihe fact (luff a lady of fashion will employ a second-rate instead of a first-rate house for the purchase of her annual fin. tv. The leading milliners and dressmakers of London have hold of English society at both ends. They hold Hie ladies by (heir vanity and their love of fine clothes, and die seamstresses by what appears lo he (heir interest and by (Heir love of life. Now, love of fine dollies and love of life are two very strong motive-springs of human action. A correspondent who lias addressed ns upon this subject*suggests that (he ladies of England —(iic censurers of American slavery—with die Duchess of Sulheiland at their beg,, should refuse lo give their patronage to any houses in which (he twelve-hour system was not slid* tly a Ihered to. We confess we see difficult! s m die way, hut not greater than “ woman’s wit” might overcome if fairly brought lo hoar upon the question. The customers, the principal:, the seamstresses, are all women. They are more competent (o deal with each other than men could by any possibility he. If the Su-Iherlaud-linuse Committee would fairly set Ihe example, and carry out (heir design with sufficient vigilance, we doubl not ill y could execute the task. They did not shrink from (lie wholesale difficulty of emancipating the 5,000,009 or 4,000,000 negroes of the United Stales, —why hesitate at grappling with the London mantuamakers who arc dependent for their existence ugon (he goodwill and patronage of (heir customers? No doubt (heir intelligence will find a way out of difficulties which puzzle the masculine brain. We should he glad indeed (o see any effective movement afoot which would compel Ihe milliners of the metropolis (oemp'oy a sufficient number of hands, and consequently lo work only for a limited number of hours. God knows, twelve hours of labour and confinement are quite sufficient for any young woman lo go through in the course of a day. For ourselves, we can hut point lo other climates where toil meets with its appropiale reward, and urge these unfortunates to leave their native shores as soon as passage-money can b.; scraped together. Those who go will find a heller England at the other side of the globe, and those who remain will find Ihe market in a more wholesome condition. Almost every week we have to record a strike for increase of wages among certain classes of male labourers—it is lime that the turn of the overworked women had conic.