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.’
What epithet then belongs to him who makes it a trade to win a woman’s
gentle affections, betray her generous confidence, and then, when the
consequences become apparent, abandon her to dependence, and the scorn
of a cold, a self-righteous, and a wicked world; a world which will
forgive anything but rebellion against its tyranny, and in whose eyes it
seems the greatest of crimes to be unsuspecting and warm-hearted! I will
give my hand freely to a galley-slave, and speak to the highway-robber
as to an honest man; but there is one character with whom I desire to
exchange neither word nor greeting—the cold-hearted, deliberate,
practised, and calculating seducer!
“And, let me ask, what is it gives to the arts of seduction their sting,
and stamps to the world its victim? Why is it, that the man goes free
and enters society again, almost courted and applauded for his
treachery, while the woman is a mark for the finger of reproach, and a
butt for the tongue of scandal? Because she bears about her the mark of
what is called her disgrace. She becomes a mother; and society has
something tangible against which to direct its anathemas. Nine-tenths,
at least, of the misery and ruin which are caused by seduction, even in
the present state of public opinion on the subject, result from cases of
pregnancy.
“If the little being lives, the dove in the falcon’s claws is not more
certain of death, than we may be, that society will visit, with its
bitterest scoffs and reproaches, the bruised spirit of the mother and
the unconscious innocence of the child.
“If, then, we cannot do all, shall we neglect a part? If we cannot
prevent every misery which man’s selfishness and the world’s cruelty
entail on a sex which it ought to be our pride and honor to cherish and
defend; let us prevent as many as we can. If we cannot persuade society
to revoke its unmanly and _unchristian_[34] persecution of those who are
often the best and gentlest of its members—let us, at the least, give to
woman what defence we may, against its violence.
“I appeal to any father, trembling for the reputation of his child,
whether, if she were induced to form an unlegalized connexion, her
pregnancy would not be a frightful aggravation? I appeal to him, whether
a preventive which shall save her from a situation which must soon
disclose all to the world, would not be an act of mercy, of charity, of
philanthropy—whether it might not save him from despair, and her from
ruin? The fastidious conformist may frown upon the question, but to the
father it comes home; and, whatever his lips may say, his heart will
acknowledge the soundness and the force of the argument it conveys.
“It may be, that sticklers for morality will still demur to the
positions I defend. They will perhaps tell me, as the committee of a
certain society in this city lately did—that the power of preventing
conception ‘holds out inducements and facilities for the prostitution of
their daughters, their sisters, and their wives.’
“Truly, but they pay their wives, their sisters, and their daughters, a
poor compliment! Is, then, this vaunted chastity a mere thing of
circumstance and occasion? Is there but the difference of opportunity
between it and prostitution? Would their wives, and their sisters, and
their daughters, if once absolved from the fear of offspring, all become
prostitutes—and sell their embrace for gold, and descend to a level with
the most degraded? In truth, but they slander their own kindred: they
libel their own wives, sisters, and daughters. If they spoke truth—if
fear were indeed the only safeguard of their relatives’ chastity, little
value should I place on virtue like that! and small would I esteem his
offence, who should attempt to seduce it.[35]
“That chastity which is worth preserving is not the chastity that owes
its birth to fear and to ignorance. If to enlighten a woman regarding a
simple physiological fact will make her a prostitute, she must be
especially predisposed to profligacy. But it is a libel on the sex. Few,
indeed, there are, who would continue so miserable and degrading a
calling, could they but escape from it. For one prostitute that is made
by inclination, ten are made by necessity. Reform the laws—equalize the
comforts of society, and you need withhold no knowledge from your wives
and daughters. It is want, not knowledge, that leads to prostitution.
“For myself, I would withhold from no sister, or daughter, or wife of
mine, any ascertained fact whatever. It should be to me a duty and a
pleasure to communicate to them all I knew myself; and I should hold it
an insult to their understandings and their hearts to imagine, that
their virtue would diminish as their knowledge increased. Vice is never
the offspring of just knowledge, and they who say it is, slander their
own nature. Would we but trust human nature, instead of continually
suspecting it, and guarding it by bolts and bars, and thinking to make
it very chaste by keeping it very ignorant, what a different world we
should have of it! The virtue of ignorance is a sickly plant, ever
exposed to the caterpillar of corruption, liable to be scorched and
blasted even by the free light of heaven; of precarious growth; and even
if at last artificially matured, of little or no real value.
“I know that parents often think it right and proper to withhold from
their children—especially from their daughters—facts the most
influential on their future lives, and the knowledge of which is
essential to every man and woman’s well-being.[36] Such a course has
ever appeared to me ill-judged and productive of very injurious effects.
A girl is surely no whit the better for believing, until her marriage
night, that children are found among the cabbage leaves in the garden.
The imagination is excited, the curiosity kept continually on the
stretch; and that which, if simply explained, would have been
recollected only as any other physiological phenomenon, assumes all the
rank and importance and engrossing interest of a mystery. Nay, I am well
convinced, that mere curiosity has often led ignorant young people into
situations, from which a little more confidence and openness on the part
of their parents and guardians, would have effectually secured them.
“But if we _could_ prevent the circulation of truth, why _should_ we? We
are not afraid of it ourselves. No man thinks _his_ morality will suffer
by it. Each feels certain that his virtue can stand any degree of
knowledge. And is it not the height of egregious presumption in each to
imagine that his neighbor is so much weaker than himself, and requires a
bandage which he can do without? Most of all is it presumptuous to
suppose, that that knowledge which the man of the world can bear with
impunity, will corrupt the young and the pure-hearted. It is the sullied
conscience only that suggests such fears. Trust youth and innocence.
Speak to them openly. Show them that you respect them, by treating them
with confidence; and they will quickly learn to respect and to govern
themselves. You enlist even their pride in your behalf; and you will
soon see them make it their boast and their highest pleasure to _merit_
your confidence. But watch them, and show your suspicions of them but
once,—and you are the jailor, who will keep his prisoners just as long
as bars and bolts shall prevent their escape. The world was never made
for a prison-house; it is too large and ill-guarded: nor were parents
ever intended for jail-keepers; their very affections unfit them for the
task.
“There is no more beautiful sight on earth, than a family among whom
there are no secrets and no reserves; where the young people confide
everything to their elder friends—for such to them are their parents—and
where the parents trust everything to their children; where each thought
is communicated as freely as it arises; and all knowledge given, as
simply as it is received. If the world contain a prototype of that
Paradise, where nature is said to have known no sin or impropriety, it
is such a family; and if there be a serpent that can poison the
innocence of its inmates, that serpent is SUSPICION.
“I ask no greater pleasure than thus to be the guardian and companion of
young beings whose innocence shall speak to me as unreservedly as it
thinks to itself; of young beings who shall never imagine that there is
guilt in their thoughts, or sin in their confidence; and to whom, in
return, I may impart every important and useful fact that is known to
myself. Their virtue shall be of that hardy growth, which _all_ facts
tend to nourish and strengthen.
“I put it to my readers, whether such a view of human nature, and such a
mode of treating it, be not in accordance with the noblest feelings of
their hearts. I put it to them, whether they have not felt themselves
encouraged, improved, strengthened in every virtuous resolution, when
they were generously trusted; and whether they have not felt abased and
degraded, when they were suspiciously watched, and spied after, and kept
in ignorance. If they find such feelings in their own hearts, let them
not self-righteously imagine, that they can only be won by generosity,
or that the nature of their fellow-creatures is different from their
own.
“There are other considerations connected with this subject, which
farther attest the social advantages of the control I advocate. Human
affections are mutable, and the sincerest of moral resolutions may
change.[37] Every day furnishes instances of alienations, and of
separations; sometimes almost before the honey-moon is well expired. In
such cases of unsuitability, it cannot be considered desirable that
there should be offspring; and the power of refraining from becoming
parents until intimacy had, in a measure, established the likelihood of
permanent harmony of views and feelings, must be confessed to be
advantageous.
“It would be impossible to meet every argument in detail, which
ingenuity or prejudice might put forward. If the world were not actually
afraid to think freely or to listen to the suggestions of common sense,
three-fourths of what has already been said would be superfluous; for
most of the arguments employed would occur spontaneously to any
rational, reasoning being. But the mass of mankind have still, in a
measure, everything to learn on this subject. The world seems to me much
to resemble a company of gourmands, who sit down to a plentiful repast,
first very punctiliously saying grace over it; and then, under the
sanction of the priest’s blessing, think to gorge themselves with
impunity; as conceiving, that gluttony after grace is no sin. So it is
with popular customs and popular morality. Everything is permitted, if
external forms be but respected. Legal roguery is no crime, and
ceremony-sanctioned excess no profligacy. The substance is sacrificed to
the form, the virtue to the outward observance. The world troubles its
head little about whether a man be honest or dishonest, so he knows how
to avoid the penitentiary and escape the hangman. In like manner, the
world seldom thinks it worth while to inquire whether a man be temperate
or intemperate, prudent or thoughtless. It takes especial care to inform
itself whether in all things he conforms to orthodox requirements; and
if he does, all is right. Thus men too often learn to consider an oath
an absolution from all subsequent decencies and duties, and a full
release from all responsibilities. If a husband maltreat his wife, the
offence is venal; for he premised it by making her at the altar, an
‘honest woman.’ If a married father neglects his children, it is a
trifle; for grace was regularly said before they were born.
“With such a world as this, it is a difficult matter to reason. After
listening to all I have said, it may perhaps cut me short by reminding
me, that nature herself declares it to be right and proper, that we
should reproduce our species without calculation or restraint. I will
ask, in reply, whether nature also declares it to be right and proper,
that when the thermometer is at 96°, we should drink greedily of cold
water, and drop down dead in the streets? Let the world be told, that if
nature gave us our passions and propensities, she gave us also the power
wisely to control them; and that, when we hesitate to exercise that
power we descend to a level with the brute creation, and become the
sport of fortune—the mere slaves of circumstance.[38]
“To one other argument it were not, perhaps, worth while to advert, but
that it has been already speciously used to excite popular prejudice. It
has been said, that to recommend to mankind prudential restraint in
cases where children cannot be provided for, is an insult to the poor
man; since all ought to be so circumstanced that they might provide
amply for the largest family. Most assuredly all _ought_ to be so
circumstanced; but all _are_ not. And there would be just as much
propriety in bidding a poor man to go and take by force a piece of
Saxony broadcloth from his neighbor’s store, because he _ought_ to be
able to purchase it, as to encourage him to go on producing children,
because he _ought_ to have the wherewithal to support them. Let us exert
every nerve to correct the injustice and arrest the misery that results
from a vicious order of things; but, until we have done so, let us not,
for humanity’s sake, madly recommend that which grievously aggravates
the evil; which increases the burden on the present generation, and
threatens with neglect and ignorance the next.
“It now remains, after having spoken of the _desirability_ of obtaining
control over the instinct of reproduction, to speak of its
_practicability_.
“I have taken great pains to ascertain the opinions of the most
enlightened physicians of Great Britain and France on this subject;
(opinions which popular prejudice will not permit them to offer publicly
in their works;) and they all concur in admitting, what the experience
of the French nation _positively proves_, that man may have a perfect
control over this instinct: and that men and women may, without any
injury to health, or the slightest violence done to the moral feelings,
and with but small diminution to the pleasure which accompanies the
gratification of the instinct, refrain at will from becoming parents. It
has chanced to me, also, to win the confidence of several individuals,
who have communicated to me, without reserve, their own experience: and
all this has been corroborative of the same opinion.
“However various and contradictory the different theories of generation,
almost all physiologists are agreed, that the entrance of the sperm
itself (or of some volatile particles proceeding from it) into the
uterus, must precede conception. This it was that probably first
suggested the possibility of preventing conception at all.”
The eloquent writer, who was at that time unaware of the existence of
Desomeaux’s mode of prevention to conception,[39] states the same result
was attained by a complete withdrawal on the part of the male previous
to emission. But this mode, it will be readily perceived, is attended
with, to some, insurmountable difficulties.
In the first place, few men can invariably control themselves in this
respect, and to be an effectual preventive, he must ever, and invariably
control his passions. Now it cannot be denied, that even those who
habitually can, and do control themselves, will inevitably, now and
then, in so exciting a passion, lose their self-control. It is
impossible to do otherwise. And one moment’s forgetfulness defeats the
end. In the second place, even if always and invariably practicable, it
makes the act of coition incomplete and unsatisfactory. In the third
place it would be almost, nay quite impossible, to prevent an
imperceptible and unconscious escape of semen, sufficient however to
produce conception, often giving rise to unjust and unfounded
suspicions, when, in fact, the cause for the existence of pregnancy is
the same as though no withdrawal was practised. And lastly, its effects
upon the constitution are frequently not unlike those produced by
onanism. In addition to which, it is unsafe, because uncertain;
consequently, when indispensable to prevent pregnancy, is of no avail,
if not actually dangerous.[40]
To sum up, in brief, why pregnancy should be prevented, the reasons
adduced seem to be conclusive to the able and talented writer, in its
moral, social, and physiological aspect.
_Morally._ Firstly. It induces early marriages by removing the principal
obstacle thereto, viz.: the fear of having offspring before the parents
are in a pecuniary condition to support, rear, and educate them. And,
Secondly, By inducing early marriages, seductions would become less
frequent, and consequently prostitution, comparatively, become extinct.
_Socially._ Firstly. Young men, instead of seeking excitement and
amusement in the intoxicating cup, gaming, night carousals, brothels,
&c., acquiring habits of dissipation deadening alike to the keen, fresh
susceptibilities belonging to youth—habits too, which often cling to
them in after life, habits which, perhaps for ever destroy their
health,—as tainting their constitution with some foul and incurable
disease,—would, with a view to early marriage, cultivate the social and
domestic ties, while yet pure and uncontaminated by contact with the
dissolute and vicious. And
Secondly, Young persons, even though with very limited means, would
nevertheless marry, and by not becoming parents, be enabled, unitedly,
to husband their resources, with the view to the bettering their
condition pecuniarily; in the meantime, and in the days of their youth,
enjoying all those social endearments which each sex finds in the
society of the other, where reciprocity of views, interests, and
feelings exists. So too, those in middling circumstances would marry
early, merely deferring an increase of family until they will have
established themselves in some business, ere the constant accumulating
expenses of an increasing family encroach upon, or eat up their small
capital, the immediate incurrence of which thus early would, perhaps,
for ever destroy the means for the comfortable provision of themselves,
as also the future welfare of their children.
_Physiologically._ By inducing early marriages, the dire evils arising
from promiscuous sexual intercourse with the tainted or diseased, will
gradually disappear, and in a generation or two we would find springing
up, in the place of the present sickly, puny race, a healthy, robust,
and pure generation.
In regard to the morality of preventing conception it is contended that
everything which tends to the amelioration of mankind, to improve their
condition physically, morally, and socially, or equalize their condition
pecuniarily, cannot be immoral. That the instinct of reproduction should
be, like our other appetites and passions, subject to the control of
reason,—that when the gratification of this instinct results in evil
effects either to ourselves or to our offspring, or even to society—if
such evil can be prevented, it is the obligation of morality that it
should be.
It is contended, then, that the use of a preventive to conception will
make men and women rational, reflecting, thinking beings, regardful
alike of their own welfare and the welfare of their offspring. That it
will banish poverty, vice and profligacy, by enabling the poor to
improve their pecuniary condition and thus engendering habits of
frugality, reflection and economy, which the prospect of future
competency is so calculated to inspire. Vice so often springing from
despair and hopeless poverty will disappear, because the children, by
reason of the competence and moral structure of the parents, will not in
infancy be thrust upon the world to mingle with the depraved and the
licentious. Sexual profligacy and licentiousness will be checked, as
early marriages become more prevalent and universal, as there then will
exist no reasons as now, why two persons, attached to each other, should
not marry, refraining merely from becoming parents. Dishonorable
advances therefore would be spurned, seductions thus have no existence,
and prostitution, the offspring of seduction, would be unknown, and even
the ravages of that disease, engendered by promiscuous sexual
intercourse, now carrying off its tens of thousands, transmitting its
pestiferous poison to thousands yet unborn, would entirely disappear.
The able author thus concludes his views:
“And now let my readers pause. Let them review the various arguments I
have placed before them. Let them reflect how intimately the instinct of
which I treat is connected with the social welfare of society. Let them
bear in mind, that just in proportion to its social influence, is it
important that we should know how to control and govern it; that when we
obtain such control, we may save ourselves—and, what we ought to prize
much more highly, may save our companions and our offspring, from
suffering or misery; that, by such knowledge, the young may form
virtuous connexions, instead of becoming profligates or ascetics; that,
by it, early marriage is deprived of its heaviest consequences, and
seduction of its sharpest sting; that, by it, man may be saved from
moral ruin, and woman from desolating dishonor; that by it the first
pure affections may be soothed and satisfied, instead of being thwarted
or destroyed—let them call to mind all this, and let them say, whether
the possession of such control be not a blessing to man.
“As to the cry which prejudice may raise against it as being unnatural,
it is just as unnatural (and no more so) as to refrain, in a sultry
summer’s day, from drinking, perhaps, more than a pint of water at a
draught, which prudence tells us is enough, while inclination would bid
us drink a quart. _All_ thwarting of any human wish or impulse may, in
one sense, be called unnatural; it is not, however, ofttimes the less
prudent and proper on that account.”
As to the practical efficacy of this preventive, the experience of
France, where it is universally practised, might suffice in proof. We
know, at this moment, several married persons who have told us, that,
after having had as many children as they thought prudent, _they had for
years employed it with perfect success_. For the satisfaction of our
readers, we will select some instances.
A few weeks since, a respectable and very intelligent father of a
family, about thirty-five years of age, who resides west of the
mountains, called at our office. Conversation turned on the present
subject, and we expressed to him our conviction that this preventive was
effectual. He told us he could speak from personal experience. He had
married young, and soon had three children. These he could support in
comfort, without running into debt or difficulty; but, the price of
produce sinking in his neighborhood, there did not appear a fair
prospect of supporting a large family. In consequence, he and his wife
determined to limit their offspring to three. They have accordingly used
it for seven or eight years; have had no more children; and have been
rewarded for their prudence by finding their situation and prospects
improving every year.
The next communication from which we shall copy is from a young man of
excellent character, living in a neighboring state, and now one of the
conductors of a popular periodical. After suggesting to us the propriety
of re-publishing some English works now out of print, he proceeds as
follows:
“Had I not been addressing you upon another subject, I should not have
ventured to obtrude on you my small need of approbation; but I cannot
let slip this opportunity of endeavoring to express how much I feel
indebted to you for its publication.
“To know how I am so indebted, it is necessary you should also know
something of my situation in life; and when it is described, it is
perhaps a description of the situation of two-thirds of the journeymen
mechanics of this country.
“I have been married nearly three years, and am the father of two
children. Having nothing to depend upon but my own industry, you will
readily acknowledge that I had reason to look forward with at least some
degree of disquietude to the prospect of an increasing family and
reduced wages: apparently the inevitable lot of the generality of
working men.
“I had apparently nothing left but to let matters take their own course,
when your valuable work made its appearance.
“I read it; and a new scene of existence seemed to open before me. I
found myself, in this all-important matter, a free agent, and, in a
degree, the arbiter of my own destiny. I could have said to you as Selim
said to Hassan,—‘
‘Thou’st hew’d a mountain’s weight from off my heart.’
My visions of poverty and future distress vanished; the present seemed
gilded with new charms, and the future appeared no longer to be dreaded.
But you can better imagine, than I describe, the revolution of my
feelings.
“I have since endeavored to circulate this book as widely as my limited
opportunities permit, and shall continue to do so, believing it to be
the most useful work that has made its appearance.”
The next extract, from an inhabitant of Pennsylvania, we have selected
chiefly as it furnishes a beautiful, and, alas! a rare, example, of that
parental conscientiousness which scruples to impart existence where it
cannot also impart the conditions necessary to render that existence
happy. In this view, the control in question is indeed all-important.
Were such virtue as this cultivated in mankind generally, how soon might
the very seeds of disease die out among us, instead of bearing, as now,
their poison-fruit from generation to generation! and how far might
human beings, in succeeding ages, surpass their forefathers in strength,
in health, and in beauty!
This view of the subject is to the physiologist, to the philosopher, to
every friend of human improvement, a most interesting one. ‘So long,’ to
use the words of an eloquent lecturer, ‘as the tainted stream is
unhesitatingly transmitted through the channel of nature, from parent to
offspring, so long will the text be verified which “visits the sins of
the fathers on the children, even to the third and fourth generation.”’
And so long, we would add, will mankind—wise and successful whenever
there is question of improving the animal races—be blind in perceiving,
and listless in securing, that far nobler object, the physical, and
thereby—in a measure—the mental and moral improvement of our own.