Chapter III: Part 3

The _diet_ must be sparing in quantity, mild in quality, and such as to leave after its digestion, as little to pass through the bowels as possible.

I would beg attention to one more observation on this subject. The removal of piles by operation, during the pregnant state, is perhaps never justifiable. Let the patient, therefore, consult her medical attendant in time, and not by a false delicacy expose herself to an evil which it is her duty to endeavour to prevent.

_Enlargement of the Veins of the Legs._

This is a frequent, but not very troublesome, accompaniment of the latter months of pregnancy. It arises in some degree from the pressure of the womb upon the large venous trunks, impeding to a certain extent the free flow of blood through them. It is frequently remarked in pregnant women who have passed a certain age; but it is particularly unusual for it to happen, in the case of young women, even during a series of repeated pregnancies.

When first observed, _if the veins have not become knotty_,—that is, having little lumps or swellings in their course up the leg,—the only means which it is necessary to employ, is the application of a muslin or cotton bandage,—six yards in length, and as wide as three fingers—from the sole of the foot up to the knee, and sufficiently firm to give support to the venous trunks. This bandage well and equally applied to the limb, with a little aperient medicine twice a week, and the recumbent position for two or three hours in the middle of the day, will cure this form of the affection.

When after a time the _veins, more and more distended, have become lengthened, tortuous, coiled up or knotty_, the female begins to experience a sense of heaviness, numbness, and sometimes very acute wandering pain, through the whole of the affected limb. In a more advanced stage, in proportion as the knotty tumours increase, the limb becomes generally swollen.

This form of the disease calls for much care and patience on the part of the sufferer. The legs should be strapped, from ankle to knee, with strips of adhesive plaster, and over this a muslin or cotton bandage must be applied with a moderate degree of tightness, and kept wet with goulard water. In conjunction with these local appliances, it is sometimes wise to lose a few ounces of blood from the arm, and always necessary to take every other night a gentle aperient, to live upon a spare diet, and for some days to keep the horizontal posture. An elastic laced stocking made for the purpose may be afterward worn, and will be found at once a sufficient support to the limb, and a source of great comfort to the wearer.

_Swelling of the Feet and Legs._

In the course of pregnancy, during the latter months particularly, the feet and legs frequently become much enlarged. It is partly owing to the pressure of the womb, but sometimes apparently independent of it. It is first observed towards night, about the ankles; by degrees the swelling rises higher, and the legs may become of a very large size. The female suffering from this complaint, always goes to bed with legs much swollen, but towards morning her face swells, and the enlargement of the legs disappears to a greater or less extent, returning, however, as the day advances.

Sometimes this disease is very trifling in its character, and in ordinary cases, except aperients, no medicine is necessary, and support may be given by a well-applied flannel roller; but when the swelling is extensive and permanent, remaining in the same degree after the patient has been for several hours in bed, and connected with uncomfortable sensations in the head, an accelerated pulse, &c., a medical man ought to be consulted, for the consequences might otherwise be dangerous.

_Palpitation of the Heart._

If this affection occur for the first time during pregnancy, it is rarely connected with disease of the heart itself; it is therefore without danger, although very distressing. Occasionally there is connected with it throbbing of the vessels in the temples, as also in the abdomen; the latter not unfrequently mistaken by the patient for the beatings of the heart itself.

It will make its attack repeatedly in the course of a day, particularly after a meal; and very frequently at night, on first lying down in bed; and it may be brought on at any time by the slightest agitation of mind.

_Treatment for an attack._—When it comes on it is to be relieved by putting the hands and arms up to the elbows in water, as warm as can be borne—friction with the warm hand applied to the feet—absolute rest—and taking the following draught: Compound spirits of ammonia, half a teaspoonful; Camphor mixture, a wine-glass. It may be repeated again in an hour or so, if necessary. It will be well to keep a bottle of this mixture in the bedroom; a resource will always be then at hand, and the dread which attends anticipation in a great measure removed. This is the more necessary, as an attack, if it comes on in the night, is always very distressing. The patient awakes, perhaps, out of a frightful dream, with a sense of fluttering in the region of the heart—calls out for breath—begs to have the curtains of the bed withdrawn, the door of the room opened—and will tell you she feels as if she was dying;—wine, brandy, any stimulant that is at hand is resorted to, for the husband or friend of the patient is naturally much excited, and in his alarm scarcely knows how to act. Now there is no occasion for alarm; the sufferer must be assured of this; her mind must be soothed and quieted; the means just pointed out for the relief of a paroxysm must be used; the palpitation will after a little time cease, and the patient will drop off into a quiet and tranquil sleep.

_These attacks may be prevented_ by taking for ten days or a fortnight a teaspoonful of the following electuary three times a day:—Carbonate of iron, one ounce and a half; syrup of ginger, one ounce and a half. The bowels must be carefully regulated; a tablespoonful of Elixir Prop. is the best aperient, provided there are no piles. Fatigue and all exertion must be avoided, and the mind kept perfectly tranquil.

_Fainting Fits._

Fainting may occur at any period of pregnancy; but is most frequent during the first three months, and especially about the time of quickening. It may come on when the person is at perfect rest; but is ordinarily produced by unusual exertion,—exposure to heat,—or any sudden excitement of the mind. The paroxysm or fit is sometimes of short duration; and the female does not lose her recollection; she has a knowledge of what is going on about her, and soon recovers; but in other instances the fainting fit is complete and of long duration, continuing for an hour, or upwards.

_The treatment during a fit._—This consists in immediately placing the patient in a recumbent posture—the use of pungent volatiles—sprinkling the face with cold water—free exposure to air, and the cautious administration of cordials. And if the fit continue long, the extremities must be kept warm, and the friction of a warm hand be applied to the feet.

It is scarcely necessary to add, that those who are subject to these attacks ought to avoid fatigue—crowded or hot rooms—fasting too long, quick motion, and agitation of mind. The bowels must be attended to; and a wine-glass of the infusion of columbo or cascarilla, taken every morning, will be useful in giving tone to the system.

After a few weeks the disposition to fainting will altogether subside, and although a very alarming state to those who are inexperienced, yet the subject of it should never allow her mind to be depressed, or to anticipate an unfavorable result. Pure air, simple diet, and regular exercise, as we said above, will do much to prevent it.

_Toothache._

This may appear a trifling disease, to notice in connexion with the subject before us: but, in the course of pregnancy, females will sometimes suffer severely from erratic pains in the face and teeth. As these pains are generally induced by the increased irritability of the nervous system, the result of the new action which is going on in the womb, and not from the decay of any particular tooth, extraction of any tooth for its cure is out of the question. Indeed, did the suffering arise from a carious tooth, its removal is unadvisable, inasmuch as this operation has been immediately followed by a miscarriage. The fact is, that the patients who have consulted me while suffering from this affection, have had, apparently, in most cases, very sound teeth; and, feeling confident that its cause has been what has been before pointed out, the treatment has been purely constitutional. The following pill may be taken, night and morning:—Socotrine aloes, one grain and a half; blue pill, two grains; together with one drachm of the rust, or carbonate of iron, mixed with treacle or milk. The latter must be repeated twice a day for four days, and then a third dose may be added in the middle of the day; and the remedy continued, even after all uneasiness in the face has subsided for some time, with great advantage to the general health.

The only local application I would advise, is that of washing out the mouth and teeth, night and morning, with salt and cold, or lukewarm water. This plan of treatment not only relieves the painful affection of the face and teeth, but allays also that local irritability of the nerves, upon which it depended.

If a carious tooth seems alone affected, it has been proposed carefully to apply a drop or two of nitric acid, which is said to be infallible; a drop or two of oil of kreosote or cajeput is frequently useful.

_Salivation._

A pregnant female must not be surprised, if, some little time after conception, or during any of the months of gestation, the ordinary quantity of saliva, which lubricates and keeps the mouth constantly moist, should increase to such an extent as to be exceedingly troublesome; and, indeed, sometimes become so excessive, as seriously to affect her health. It is a symptom of pregnancy, but a very unusual one; although the quantity of saliva discharged has now and then exceeded three, and even four pints daily.

It differs essentially from the salivation produced by the exhibition of mercury, inasmuch as in this case, there is no tenderness of the gums, or disagreeable fœtor in the breath. The fluid itself is either perfectly colorless and transparent, or more tenacious and frothy. It has an unpleasant taste, and, when tenacious, induces vomiting. It is generally accompanied with acidity; and the plan of _treatment_ most advisable, when the disease is moderate in its character, is the frequent use of from twenty to thirty grains of magnesia, say every morning, rinsing the mouth out very often with lime-water, and to resist the desire to discharge the saliva from the mouth as much as possible, for, if it is not very great in quantity, it may be swallowed to advantage. Should this symptom, however, be very excessive, the health will suffer considerably in consequence, and the assistance of the medical man is imperatively called for.

_A Painful and Distended Condition of the Breasts._

Pain and tension of the breasts frequently attend, as also they are natural consequences of, conception.

In a first pregnancy, a large and rapid development of this organ may take place, the breast becoming two or three times as large as before marriage; but if tight lacing be only avoided, and the breasts be permitted to expand, no material inconvenience will arise from this circumstance.

As, however, these symptoms are sometimes attended with considerable distress, I would advise, under such circumstances, the application of half a dozen leeches, or more, tepid fomentations, and a gentle aperient—two drachms of Epsom salts in a little peppermint water—night and morning. These means, by relieving the over distension and fulness of the vessels of the part, remove the cause and complaint at once.

If these symptoms occur to a female who may have been several times pregnant, and formerly has had an abscess in one or other breast, that bosom is generally most painful which was before affected, and there will be an increased hardness about it, which may give rise, perhaps, to the apprehension of an abscess again forming, or, what is much worse, to the disease terminating in cancer. Both these fears are groundless: and, if she will only use fomentations, gentle friction frequently during the day, with almond oil and laudanum—about a drachm of the latter, to an ounce of the oil, warm,—and exercise patience, everything will do very well.

Nature often seeks her own cure, and a colourless, thin fluid runs from the nipple, which relieves the symptoms.

_Cramp, and Pains in the Legs, &c._

Some females, during the latter months of pregnancy, suffer dreadfully from cramp and pain in the legs, and about the sides and lower part of the stomach. This symptom arises from the pressure of the womb upon certain nerves in its neighbourhood, which proceed to the extremities.

If the cramp be seated in the muscles of the legs, a hard, knotty induration is perceivable to the touch, accompanied with great soreness, the latter continuing for a long time after the lump has disappeared. An uneasy position of the muscles is a sufficient cause of irritation, to produce it, and it is frequently removed, by simply rising from the bed or sofa, and walking the room, so as to put the muscles of the leg into action. If this does not succeed, warm friction with the naked hand, or with camphorated oil, generally will.

If spasm affect the sides, or lower part of the stomach, the speediest relief will be obtained from twenty, to five-and-twenty, or thirty drops of laudanum, with a little ether, in distilled peppermint water, or, even at the moment, a little brandy and water; but I generally order, for patients who are at all subject to this affection, the following mixture:—Batley’s sedative solution of opium, one drachm; compound tincture of lavender, half an ounce; distilled peppermint water, six ounces. Two tablespoonfuls to be taken before retiring to rest, if there is the slightest intimation of an approaching attack, and also direct that the feet be put into a mustard foot-bath. During the attack, great benefit will be derived from the external application of hot flannels, moistened with the compound camphor liniment.

_Violent movements of the Child._

Before the third month of pregnancy, the child is not sufficiently developed to enable it to move. When a little further advanced in growth, it moves, but so feebly and imperfectly, that the mother is not yet sensible of it. A period, however, soon arrives, when its movements, although at first like the mere fluttering of a bird, acquire a power and force, that enable it to give decided proof of life. It is instantly recognised, the female knows she has quickened, and perhaps the sensation experienced is so sudden, that she faints. After this time the motions of the child increase both in frequency and degree, and are readily perceived by the mother, but after a time the womb accustomed to this action within itself, is less sensible of its effects, and except as a satisfactory evidence of the life of the child, is little regarded.

Sometimes, however, the child is _disagreeably_ active, so violent as not merely to alarm the mother, but occasion much sickness and uneasiness;—sleepless nights; feverish symptoms, &c., and all this to such an extent, as to require medical interference. If this is not thought necessary, relief will be obtained from losing blood, when not otherwise objectionable, to the amount of a few ounces; gentle aperients, and a night draught containing from twenty-five to thirty drops of Batley’s sedative solution of opium. These remedies will afford the greatest relief, and if the symptoms are not altogether removed by them, the female must then endure patiently, recollecting they are a proof that the child is alive and vigorous.[25]

_Soreness and Cracking of the Skin of the Abdomen._

It will sometimes happen during the latter months of pregnancy, that the skin covering the abdomen will not yield readily. This produces much uneasiness; the skin becomes tender and fretted, and if there is very great distension, cracks. It forms a source of great discomfort, and renders the female miserable whenever she moves.

It is to be relieved by fomenting the parts with a decoction of poppy-heads;[26] and the frequent use of warm almond oil, applying in the intervals spermaceti ointment, spread very thinly on a piece of soft linen.

_Inconvenience from Size._

Many women in the latter months of gestation experience considerable annoyance, and sometimes severe suffering from the great size of the abdomen, and from want of support, when even not so very large. This is a rare occurrence in a first pregnancy, owing to the firmness of the abdominal muscles, but very frequent in subsequent ones. Little women especially suffer from this unpleasant cause, and, in fact, it is so universally the case with all, who have borne children _rapidly_, that it is highly important for a female to be provided with the means of relieving it.

There is but one remedy with which I am acquainted, but have usually found it answer every purpose. It is wearing during the day-time _a well-applied belt_, next the skin. It must be sufficiently broad for its upper edge to surround the abdomen above the point of its greatest diameter, and its lower edge to come down to, and be supported by, the hips. It must be drawn tight by a lace-string behind, as circumstances may require, and it must likewise be supported by broad straps passing over the shoulders. This will give the required support to the womb, and when the patient is in an upright position, as much as possible of the weight, of what she externally carries, will be thrown upon, or hang from, her shoulders.

Those who suffer much from this cause, ought also to lie down upon a couch or bed, for two or three hours every day; this will give great relief to the muscles.

_Being Unwell during Pregnancy._

A female may be pregnant, and yet be unwell for one period or more while in that condition. Indeed, it may take place every month to the time of quickening, and has even continued in some rare cases up to the time of delivery.

Now, although this can scarcely be called one of the diseases of pregnancy—for it, ordinarily, in no way, interferes with the health—still, as while the discharge is actually present it predisposes to miscarriage, it is necessary to give one or two hints of caution.

Any female, then, thus circumstanced should manage herself with great care immediately before the appearance, during the existence—and directly after the cessation of the discharge. She should observe the most perfect quiet of body and mind—keeping upon the sofa while it lasts, and carefully abstaining from any stimulating or indigestible article of food, and if any symptoms of pain, uneasiness, or threatening miscarriage come on, immediately seek medical advice.

A case, showing the necessity of carefulness under such circumstances, occurred to me some time since, and its relation is all that I need add upon this point.

A lady, resident in Gloucestershire, missing one period, suspected herself of being pregnant, but being unwell on the following month, supposed herself mistaken. She had occasion, however, to come to London on the second day of her being unwell—Monday. On the Wednesday following she suffered considerable uneasiness from the exertion attendant upon the journey, and on Friday while from her hotel was obliged to return home in haste, and before night, miscarried.

Here then is a case in point—first proving, what some persons deny, that a female may be unwell and yet be pregnant, for she could not perceive the slightest difference in the appearance of the discharge from what ordinarily took place, and it was exact as to the time of its return—and next, showing how necessary is great caution, and the most perfect quiet, since undoubtedly this lady would not have miscarried, if her journey had only been delayed another week.

Jaundice sometimes occurs in the early or latter parts of the pregnancy—certain affections also of disordered functions of the heart, producing palpitation—a troublesome cough, accompanied with considerable pain in the head, sudden attacks of difficulty of breathing, and distressing inconvenience from irritable bladder.

These, and many other slight affections, may manifest themselves during gestation, but of those I say nothing. It would be advancing beyond the bounds by which I thought it right to limit myself, and departing from the object proposed.[27]

I have finished what was purposed, and presented the married female with that information for direction and relief, in those little ailments and discomforts which frequently arise during pregnancy, for which she does not think it necessary to consult her medical adviser, and yet from which she will not unfrequently go on suffering for weeks, rather than speak of them.

PREVENTION TO CONCEPTION.

We have seen from the preceding pages, that in addition to what may be termed diseases ordinarily attendant upon a state of pregnancy, there are others in which to become pregnant is to hazard the health, and often the life of the woman, involving a peremptory necessity either for instrumental or Cæsarean operation, premature delivery or miscarriage. Apart from its agonizing torture, the danger of the Cæsarean operation is imminent to a frightful extent. Premature delivery is often attended with success, but the offspring being prematurely born, if they survive, rarely attain maturity, and even then mostly during their short existence very sickly. Miscarriage, although attended with but little danger when skilfully effected and properly conducted, can only be considered as an alternative; only a choice of evils. But thanks to the indefatigable researches of the learned and humane M.M. Desomeaux for his great discovery by which _pregnancy can be prevented_. By this discovery every woman can have in her own power the means of prevention.

The imperative, and self-evident necessity that, in some cases, pregnancy should not take place, cannot, for a moment, be doubted, in view that it is within the knowledge of every medical man, who makes his profession subserve the amelioration of the suffering to which the female is subject—knowledge, too, acquired within the sphere of his daily practice—that there are women who should not become pregnant, for with them pregnancy is peril to life. And even when life is spared, the birth of every child snatches many years from the life of the mother, hurrying her, with a constitution shattered, and health destroyed, to a premature grave.

Some women are so constituted that they cannot give birth, not to say to _healthy_, but not to _living_ children. Others again cannot give birth at all, except through the instrumental mangling and cutting of the Cæsarean operation—of a piece-meal extraction of the infant from the mother’s womb—happy, indeed, if the woman’s life fall not a sacrifice to the butchery. Truly, such spectacles are too horrid to contemplate. And yet such women are permitted to become pregnant, in total ignorance that pregnancy ought and can be _prevented_, by safe, simple, invariably healthy, and infallibly certain means.

Some women, again, although not in immediate danger from becoming too frequently pregnant, yet during seven or eight of the nine months of pregnancy, experience the utmost agony of mind and body, making existence a continuous state of misery and suffering, destructive alike of their health, beauty, vigor, and spirits; who, after confinement and recovery, live in constant and perpetual fear and dread of again becoming pregnant, again to undergo the series of intense sufferings from which they have but just emerged. Life, under such circumstances, to the fond and affectionate wife, is but a constant suffering. Can it be otherwise to the kind husband? Can he behold the partner of his joys and sorrows—his bosom companion—the mother of his children—his solace in sickness or difficulty, thus dragging out her days of wretchedness and anguish, emaciated, disheartened, broken in body and spirits; and that, too, in the meridian of her life, in the hey-day of her existence, perceptibly sinking into an early grave, to leave her offspring motherless, or entrust them to the cold and sordid care of the world! Can a husband, possessing the feelings of a man, behold this with indifference; nay, will he not shudder at the possibility of such consequences arising from too frequent pregnancy! Will he not pause and reflect ere he becomes the cause from which such dreadful effects would flow? Surely, if he is a thinking, reflecting, rational, humane man, he must reflect—he must pause, and permit the adoption of the mode pointed out in these pages, by which pregnancy can be prevented, and that, too, without the least sacrifice of those pleasurable sensations experienced in the connubial embrace.

The happiness as well of husband, of wife, and children, will be enhanced by the preservation of her health, by lengthening the intervals between the periods of pregnancy, making the interval between the births three, four, or more years (as in France), depending upon the health of the wife. Thereby it will, under ordinary circumstances, be preserved to rear, guard, and educate her children,—to soothe and comfort the declining years of the father when age and decrepitude are upon him. When, perchance, his own sufferings can be assuaged by only her hand, who alone knows and anticipates his every wish—whose affectionate attention, having accompanied him through the rugged path of life, alone knows how to impart content and happiness.

Surely, then, circumstances do arise where it is folly, madness, wickedness, to permit pregnancy to take place.

Where, for example, the health of the wife evidently sinks under a too frequent state of pregnancy or a too rapid increase of family; or the births taking place in too close succession.

Where the female cannot be in a state of pregnancy without the most intense and excruciating suffering during such period, endangering her own future health, and perhaps that of her offspring.

Where an incapacity exists to give birth to _living_ children, either in consequence of malformation of the pelvis, or other deformity; and where, from the same, or other causes, recourse is necessarily had to the Cæsarean operation. All which causes have either the health or the life of the female in view.

But there are still other reasons scarcely less urgent why pregnancy should be sometimes prevented, which have the welfare of the offspring in view.

It is but too lamentable a fact that the sins or misfortunes of the parent are visited upon their offspring. It is indisputable that diseases which carry off their thousands, are, many of them, hereditary,—transmissible from parent to child. Such as confirmed consumption, King’s Evil, or Scrofula, Gout, Venereal Disease, Hypochondria, Insanity, and other diseases, and even drunkenness.

In view, then, of the transmission of disease and suffering to our offspring, should they even survive a brief existence, every reflecting being should hesitate whether it were not better to prevent pregnancy than to thrust human beings into the world, and blighting their brief existence with entailed disease and wretchedness—for such offspring are seldom reared to maturity. This fact accounts for the great mortality of children, especially in cities. Those, however, that do pass through a sickly childhood, becoming necessarily endeared to their parents, are cut off in their early years—sometimes in the bloom of youth—blasting the fond hopes just springing into existence in the breasts of their parents. Thus, in some families, five or six, one after another, are apparently prematurely cut off.

The causes, doubtless, to a superficial observer, looking only upon effects, appear inexplicable: not so to those who look beyond mere effects. To such the _present_ is but the child of the _past_, and the _parent_ of the _future_.

In discussing, therefore, the propriety, the morality, nay, the inevitable necessity, in some cases, of preventing pregnancy, it has an important bearing.

In presenting these considerations, however, we must bear in mind that they are not applicable where the female is capable of enduring the ordinary inconveniences arising from a state of pregnancy, or where her health is not thereby injuriously affected, because the reasons for prevention do not, in such case, exist. Indeed, it is not unusual, that the health of the female, so far from being injured, is often improved, in consequence of the existence of pregnancy, and others, again, who enjoy perfect health without reference to their condition in this respect.

And, again, it is unquestionable that children are often a source of domestic happiness—the binding link—the pledge of affection and love—the delight and joy of parents, upon whose growth and development they look with pride mingled with fond anticipations of the future. The paths of life are made less rugged, the charms of home more pleasant, toil itself becomes less irksome by their influence.

When, therefore, neither the life nor health of the mother is jeopardized, and the offspring free from hereditary or constitutional taint, it is, of course, unnecessary that preventive measures should be used. Neither is it, under such circumstances, recommended.

In regard, however, to the prevention of pregnancy, there are still other views, taking still other grounds, treating the subject in a moral and social point of view, which, although not strictly belonging to its consideration in a medical and physiological character, are yet of sufficient interest to be embraced in this work.

The following remarks are from a celebrated physiological writer, and are certainly worthy of consideration, whether we coincide with the author or not. He thus eloquently introduces the subject:

“Libertines and debauchees! these pages are not for you. You have nothing to do with the subject of which they treat. Bringing to its discussion, as you do, a distrust or contempt of the human race—accustomed as you are to confound liberty with license, and pleasure with debauchery, it is not for your palled feelings and brutalized senses to distinguish moral truth in its purity and simplicity. I never discuss this subject with such as you.

“It has been remarked, that nothing is so suspicious in a woman, as vehement pretensions to especial chastity; it is no less true, that the most obtrusive and sensitive stickler for the etiquette of orthodox morality is the heartless rake. The little intercourse I have had with men of your stamp, warns me to avoid the serious discussion of any species of moral heresy with you. You approach the subject in a tone and spirit revolting alike to good taste and good feeling. You seem to pre-suppose—from your own experience, perhaps—that the hearts of all men and more especially of all women, are deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; that violence and vice are inherent in human nature, and that nothing but laws and ceremonies prevent the world from becoming a vast slaughter-house, or an universal brothel. You judge your own sex and the other by the specimens you have met with in wretched haunts of mercenary profligacy; and, with such a standard in your minds, I marvel not that you remain incorrigible unbelievers in any virtue, but that which is forced on the prudish hot-bed of ceremonious orthodoxy. I wonder not that you will not trust the natural soil, watered from the free skies and warmed by the life-bringing sun. How should you? you have never seen it produce but weeds and poisons. Libertines and debauchees! cast these pages aside! You will find in them nothing to gratify a licentious curiosity; and, if you read them, you will probably only give me credit for motives and impulses like your own.

“And you, prudes and hypocrites! you who strain at a gnat and swallow a camel; you whom Jesus likened to whited sepulchres, which without indeed are beautiful, but within are full of all uncleanness; you who affect to blush if the ankle is incidentally mentioned in conversation, or displayed in crossing a stile, but will read indecencies enough, without scruple, in your closets; you who, at dinner, ask to be helped to the bosom of a duck, lest by mention of the word breast, you call up improper associations; you who have nothing but a head and feet and fingers; you who look demure by daylight, and make appointments only in the dark—you, prudes and hypocrites! I do not address. Even if honest in your prudery, your ideas of right and wrong are too artificial and confused to profit by the present discussion; if dishonest, I desire to have no communication with you.

“Reader! if you belong to the class of prudes or of libertines, I pray you, follow my argument no further. Stop here, and believe that my heresies will not suit you. As a prude, you would find them too honest; as a libertine, too temperate. In the former case, you might call me a very shocking person; in the latter, a quiz or a bore.

“But if you be honest, upright, pure-minded—if you be unconscious of unworthy motive or selfish passion—if truth be your ambition, and the welfare of our race your object—then approach with me a subject the most important to man’s well-being; and approach it as I do, in a spirit of dispassionate, disinterested free inquiry. Approach it, resolving to prove all things, and hold fast that which is good. The discussion is one to which it is every man’s and every woman’s _duty_ (and ought to be every one’s _business_) to attend. The welfare of the present generation, and—yet far more—of the next, requires it. Common sense sanctions it. And the national motto of my former country, ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense,’[28] may explain the spirit in which it is undertaken, and in which it ought to be received.”

PREVENTION TO CONCEPTION;
CONSIDERED
IN ITS SOCIAL BEARINGS.

“What would be the probable effect, in social life, if mankind obtained and exercised a control over the instinct of reproduction?

“My settled conviction is—and I am prepared to defend it—that the effect would be salutary, moral, civilizing; that it would prevent many crimes and more unhappiness; that it would lessen intemperance and profligacy; that it would polish the manners and improve the moral feelings; that it would relieve the burden of the poor, and the cares of the rich; that it would most essentially benefit the rising generation, by enabling parents generally more carefully to educate, and more comfortably to provide for, their offspring. I proceed to substantiate as I may these positions.

“And first, let us look solely to the situation of married persons. Is it not notorious, that the families of the married often increase beyond what a regard for the young beings coming into the world, or the happiness of those who give them birth, would dictate? In how many instances does the hard-working father, and more especially the mother, of a poor family, remain slaves throughout their lives, tugging at the oar of incessant labor, toiling to live, and living but to toil; when if their offspring had been limited to two or three only, they might have enjoyed comfort and comparative affluence! How often is the health of the mother, giving birth every year to an infant—happy if it be not twins!—and compelled to toil on, even at those times when nature imperiously calls for some relief from daily drudgery—how often is the mother’s comfort, health, nay, her life, thus sacrificed! Or, if care and toil have weighed down the spirit, and at last broken the health of the father, how often is the widow left, unable, with the most virtuous intentions, to save her fatherless offspring from becoming degraded objects of charity, or profligate votaries of vice!

“Fathers and mothers! not you who have your nursery and your nursery-maids, and who leave your children at home, to frequent the crowded rout, or to glitter in the hot ball-room; but you by the labor of whose hands your children are to live, and who, as you count their rising numbers, sigh to think how soon sickness or misfortune may lessen those wages which are now but just sufficient to afford them bread—fathers and mothers in humble life! to you my argument comes home, with the force of reality. Others may impugn—may ridicule it. By bitter experience you know and feel its truth.

“Yet this is not all. Every physician knows, that there are many women so constituted that they cannot give birth to healthy—sometimes not to _living_ children. Is it desirable—is it _moral_, that such women should become pregnant? Yet this is continually the case, the warnings of physicians to the contrary notwithstanding. Others there are, who ought never to become parents; because, if they do, it is only to transmit to their offspring grievous hereditary diseases; perhaps that worst of diseases, insanity. Yet they will not lead a life of celibacy. They marry. They become parents, and the world suffers by it. That a human being should give birth to a child, knowing that he transmits to it hereditary disease, is in my opinion an immorality. But it is a folly to expect that we can ever induce all such persons to live the lives of Shakers. Nor is it necessary; all that duty requires of them is, to refrain from becoming parents. Who can estimate the beneficial effect which rational moral restraint may thus have, on the health, beauty, and physical improvement of our race, throughout future generations?

“But, apart from these latter considerations, is it not most plainly, clearly, incontrovertibly _desirable_, that parents _should have the power_[29] to limit their offspring, whether they choose to exercise it or not? Who _can_ lose by their having this power? and how many _may_ gain! may gain competency for themselves, and the opportunity carefully to educate and provide for their children! How many may escape the jarrings, the quarrels, the disorder, the anxiety, which an overgrown family too often causes in the domestic circle?

“It sometimes happens, that individual instances come home to the feelings with greater force than any general reasoning. I shall, in this place, adduce one which came immediately under my cognizance.

“In June, 1829, I received from an elderly gentleman of the first respectability, occupying a public situation in one of the western states, a letter requesting to know whether I could afford any information or advice in a case which greatly interested him and which regarded a young woman for whom he had ever experienced the sentiments of a father. In explanation of the circumstances to which he alluded, he enclosed me a copy of a letter which she had just written to him, and which I here transcribe verbatim. A letter more touching from its simplicity, or more strikingly illustrative of the unfortunate situation in which not one, but thousands, in married life, find themselves placed, I have never read.

“‘_L——, Kentucky, May 3, 1829._

“‘Dear Sir,

“‘The friendship which has existed between you and my father, ever
since I can remember; the unaffected kindness you used to express
towards me, when you resided in our neighborhood, during my childhood;
the lively solicitude you have always seemed to feel for my welfare,
and your benevolence and liberal character, induce me to lay before
you in a few words, my critical situation, and ask you for your kind
advice.

“‘It is my lot to be united in wedlock to a young mechanic of
industrious habits, good dispositions, pleasing manners, and agreeable
features, excessively fond of our children and of me; in short,
eminently well qualified to render himself and family and all around
him happy, were it not for the besetting sin of drunkenness. About
once in every three or four weeks, if he meet, either accidentally or
purposely, with some of his friends, of whom, either real or
pretended, his good nature and liberality procure him many, he is sure
to get intoxicated, so as to lose his reason; and, when thus beside
himself, he trades and makes foolish bargains, so much to his
disadvantage, that he has almost reduced himself and family to
beggary, being no longer able to keep a shop of his own, but obliged
to work journey work.

“‘We have not been married quite four years, and have already given
being to three dear little ones. Under present circumstances, what can
I expect will be their fate and mine? I shudder at the prospect before
me. With my excellent constitution and industry, and the labor of my
husband, I feel able to bring up these three little cherubs in
decency, were I to have no more: but when I seriously consider my
situation, I can see no other alternative left for me, than to tear
myself away from the man who, though addicted to occasional
intoxication, would sacrifice his life for my sake; and for whom,
contrary to my father’s will, I successively refused the hand and
wealth of a lawyer and of a preacher; or continue to witness his
degradation, and bring into existence, in all probability, a numerous
family of helpless and destitute children, who, on account of poverty,
must inevitably be doomed to a life of ignorance, and consequent vice
and misery.

“‘M. W.’”

“Need I add one word of comment on such a case as this? Every feeling mind must be touched by the amiable feeling and good sense that pervade the letter. Every rational being, surely, must admit, that the power of preventing, without injury or sacrifice, the increase of a family, under such circumstances, is a public benefit and a private blessing.

“Will it be asserted—and I know no other even plausible reply to these facts and arguments—will it be asserted, that the thing is, in itself, immoral or unseemly? I deny it; and I point to the population of France, in justification of my denial. Where will you find, on the face of the globe, a more polished or more civilized nation than the French, or one more punctiliously alive to any rudeness, coarseness or indecorum? You will find none. The French are scrupulous on these points, to a proverb. Yet, as every intelligent traveller in France must have remarked, there is scarcely to be found, among the middle or upper classes (and seldom even among the working classes), such a thing as a large family; very seldom more than three or four children. A French lady of the utmost delicacy and respectability will, in common conversation, say as simply—(ay, and as _innocently_, whatever the self-righteous prude may aver to the contrary)—as she would proffer any common remark about the weather: ‘I have three children; my husband and I think that is as many as we can do justice to, and I do not intend to have any more.’[30]

“I have stated notorious facts, facts which no traveller who has visited Paris, and seen anything of the domestic life of its inhabitants, will attempt to deny. However heterodox, then, my view of the subject may be in this country, I am supported in it by the opinion and the practice of the most refined and most socially cultivated nation in the world.

“Will it still be argued, that the practice, if not coarse, is immoral? Again, I appeal to France. I appeal to the details of the late glorious revolution—to the innumerable instances of moderation, of courage, of honesty, of disinterestedness, of generosity, of magnanimity, displayed on the memorable ‘three days,’ and ever since; and I challenge comparison between the national character of France for virtue, as well as politeness, and that of any other nation under heaven.

“It is evident, then, that to married persons, the power of limiting their offspring to their circumstances is most desirable. It may often promote the harmony, peace, and comfort of families; sometimes it may save from bankruptcy and ruin, and sometimes it may rescue the mother from premature death. In _no_ case can it, by possibility, be worse than superfluous. In _no case can it be mischievous_.

“If the moral feelings were carefully cultivated, if we were taught to consult, in everything, rather the welfare of those we love than our own, how strongly would these arguments be felt? No man ought even to _desire_ that a woman should become the mother of his children, unless it was her express wish, and unless he knew it to be for her welfare, that she should. Her feelings, her interests, should be for him in this matter _an imperative law_. She it is who bears the burden, and therefore with her also should the decision rest. Surely it may well be a question whether it be desirable, or whether any man ought to ask, that the whole life of an intellectual, cultivated woman, should be spent in bearing a family of twelve or fifteen children; to the ruin, perhaps, of her constitution, if not to the overstocking of the world. No man ought to require or expect it.

“Shall I be told, that this is the very romance of morality? Alas! that what ought to be a matter of every day practice—a commonplace exercise of the duties and charities of life—a bounden duty—an instance of domestic courtesy too universal either to excite remark or to merit commendation—alas! that a virtue so humble that its absence ought to be reproached as a crime, should, to our selfish perceptions, seem but a fastidious refinement, or a fanciful supererogation!

“But I pass from the case of married persons to that of young men and women who have yet formed no matrimonial connexion.

“In the present state of the world, when public opinion stamps with opprobrium every sexual connection which has not received the orthodox sanction of an oath, almost all young persons, on reaching the age of maturity, desire to marry. The heart must be very cold, or very isolated, that does not find some object on which to bestow its affections. Thus, early marriages would be almost universal, did not prudential considerations interfere. The young man thinks, ‘I must not marry yet. I cannot support a family. I must make money first, and think of a matrimonial settlement afterwards.’

“And so he goes to making money, fully and sincerely resolved, in a few years to share it with her whom he now loves. But passions are strong, and temptations great. Curiosity, perhaps, introduces him into the company of those poor creatures whom society first reduces to a dependence on the most miserable of mercenary trades, and then curses for being what she has made them. There his health and his moral feelings alike are made shipwreck. The affections he had thought to treasure up for their first object, are chilled by dissipation and blunted by excess. He scarcely retains a passion but avarice. Years pass on—years of profligacy and speculation—and his first wish is accomplished; his fortune is made. Where now are the feelings and resolves of his youth?

“‘Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
They are gone—and for ever?’

“He is a man of pleasure—a man of the world. He laughs at the romance of his youth, and marries a fortune. If gaudy equipages and gay parties confer happiness, he is happy. But if these be only the sunshine on the stormy ocean below, he is a victim to that system of morality which forbids a reputable connexion until the period when provision has been made for a large, expected family. Had he married the first object of his choice, and simply delayed becoming a father until his prospects seemed to warrant it, how different might have been his lot! Until men and women are absolved from the fear of becoming parents, except when they themselves desire it, they ever will form mercenary and demoralizing connexions, and seek in dissipation the happiness they might have found in domestic life.

“I know that this, however common, is not an universal case. Sometimes the heavy responsibilities of a family are incurred at all risks; and who shall say how often a life of unremitting toil and poverty is the consequence? Sometimes—if even rarely—the young mind _does_ hold to its first resolves. The youth plods through years of cold celibacy and solitary anxiety; happy, if before the best hours of life are gone, and its warmest feelings withered, he may return to claim the reward of his forbearance and of his industry. But even in this comparatively happy case, shall we count for nothing the years of ascetical sacrifice at which after-happiness is purchased? The days of youth are not too many, nor its affections too lasting. We may, indeed, if a great object require it, sacrifice the one and mortify the other. But is this, in itself, desirable? Does not wisdom tell that such sacrifice is a dead loss—to the warm-hearted often a grievous one? Does not wisdom bid us temperately enjoy the spring-time of life, ‘while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh’ when we shall say, ‘we have no pleasure in them?’

“Let us say, then, if we will, that the youth who thus sacrifices the present for the future, chooses wisely between two evils, profligacy and asceticism. This is true. But let us not imagine the lesser evil to be a good. It is _not_ good for man to be alone. It is for no man’s or woman’s happiness or benefit that they should be condemned to Shakerism. It is a violence done to the feelings, and an injury to the character. A life of rigid celibacy, though infinitely preferable to a life of dissipation, is yet fraught with many evils. Peevishness, restlessness, vague longings, and instability of character, are among the least of these. The mind is unsettled, and the judgment warped. Even the very instinct which is thus mortified assumes an undue importance, and occupies a portion of the thoughts which does not of right or nature belong to it; and which, during a life of satisfied affection, it would not obtain.

“I speak not now of extreme cases, where solitary vice[31] or disease, or even insanity, has been the result of ascetical mortification. I speak of every day cases; and I am well convinced that (however wise it often is, in the present state of the world, to select and adhere to this alternative), yet no man or woman can live the life of a conscientious Shaker, without suffering, more or less, both physically, mentally, and morally. This is the more to be regretted, because the very noblest portion of our species—the good, the pure, the high-minded, and the kind-hearted—are the chief victims.

“Thus, inasmuch as the scruple of incurring heavy responsibilities deters from forming moral connexions, and encourages intemperance and prostitution, the knowledge which enables man to limit his offspring, would, in the present state of things, save much unhappiness and prevent many crimes. Young persons sincerely attached to each other, and who might wish to marry, would marry early; merely resolving not to become parents until prudence permitted it. The young man, instead of solitary toil or vulgar dissipation, would enjoy the society and the assistance of her he had chosen as his companion; and the best years of life, whose pleasures never return, would not be squandered in riot, or lost through mortification.

“My readers will remark, that all the arguments I have hitherto employed, apply strictly to the present order of things, and the present laws and system of marriage. No one, therefore, need be a moral heretic on this subject to admit and approve them. The marriage laws might all remain for ever as they are; and yet a moral check to population would be beneficent and important.

“But there are other cases, it will be said, where the knowledge of a preventive would be mischievous. If young women, it will be argued, were absolved from the fear of consequences, they would rarely preserve their chastity. Unlegalized connexions would be common and seldom detected. Seduction would be facilitated. Let us dispassionately examine this argument.

“I fully agree with that most amiable of moral heretics, Shelley, that ‘Seduction, which term could have no meaning in a rational society, has now a most tremendous one.’[32] It matters not how artificial the penalty which society has chosen to affix to a breach of her capricious decrees. Society has the power in her own hands; and that moral Shylock, Public Opinion, enforces the penalty, even though it cost the life of the victim. The consequences, then, to the poor sufferer, whose offence is, at most, but an error of judgment or a weakness of the heart, are the same as if her imprudence were indeed a crime of the blackest dye. And his conduct who, for a momentary, selfish gratification, will deliberately entail a life of wretchedness on one whose chief fault, perhaps, was her misplaced confidence in a villain, is not one whit excused by the folly and injustice of the sentence.[33] Some poet says,

‘The man who lays his hands upon a woman,
Save in the way of kindness, is a wretch
Whom ’twere gross flattery to call a coward.’