Last week, Jen wrote in the comments to our discussion about sexless romance, It almost bugs me when the historicals do have sex, because I know there are some primative birth control methods, but the heroines never seem to use them.
I have to admit to being a complete noob when it comes to the history of birth control options. I’ve read a fair share of romances wherein the hero uses a sheath of one sort or another, or introduces the heroine to such a device for pre-marital canoodling, but female birth control options? I have been pondering the idea for a good few hours now, and I’m having a hard time remembering a romance wherein the heroine practiced birth control. I recall a few “chicken’s bladder of blood” scenarios to hide an absence of virginity, but active birth control usage in an historical? My memory, admittedly, is horrible, but I’m drawing a blank.
But as Jen points out, there were historical methods available. Cast Western even has an entire collection of historical birth control devices, which includes the IUD and crocodile dung.
The Wikipedia article is particularly interesting, including this ‘misconception:’
Sneezing or urinating after sex are also completely ineffective, they do not prevent pregnancy and are not forms of birth control.
But alas it does not describe what folks did way, way back in the day, when locked in passion in the way back seat – if the carriage even had a way back seat.
Other articles, including one from Yale discuss varying types of suppositories and barrier methods, indicate that with the exception of the modern birth control pill in 1960, “there are no new methods” of birth control.
So why isn’t there birth control amongst the heroines in historical romance? I’d say there’s two reasons: one, it’s just not sexy. But more importantly, it messes up that odd requirement of sexual purity for the heroine. Candy and I were discussing this recently – there is a demand and expectation of virginity on the part of the heroine, and if there is an absence of hymen due to a man who is not the hero, it’s explained by several weary plot devices. Either, for example, she’s a widow (who of course has never known an orgasm), or she’s been induced into sexual relations by some nefarious and pitiable reasons that serve to restore nobility to her non-virginal self. The issue of virginity casts a wide shadow on heroines in historical romance, even as my cursory search for historical birth control revealed a number of folkloric methods that might easily have been passed from maid to maiden lady.
What’s your take? Are there romances that feature contraceptive-savvy heroines? Or are virginity and sexual purity a pair of powerful expectations on the part of the reader to the point where contraceptive knowledge would damage the heroine in our eyes?
In Mary Jo Putney’s Dancing On the Wind (the first historical I ever read, btw), Lucien and “Jane” (Kit) are getting hot and heavy on the divan, and she claims she needs to take “precautions,” which she indicates is some kind of birth control.
Of course, she’s actually using that as an excuse to make good her escape w/o him noticing, but the fact is, she does use birth control as a believable excuse.
(She also *doesn’t* use bc when they finally do the deed, but whatever.)
I just read a Karleen Koen historical, and her heroine was barren, which effectively solves the problem of unwanted pregnancies. Good plot device for maximum scrumpage.
Or they are aristocrats and can just pass the baby off to the wet nurse/governess.
Or somehow the main couple can go at it for months, and not get pregnant until the time is right, which is a bit too tidy for my tastes.
I’d like to see a romance with obscure birth control descriptions, but I like my historicals grimy and realistic.
Well the negotiation of sex is a form of birth control though it is not often talked about. Things like withdrawal, and sex other than vaginal, including forms of frottage (breast, buttocks and underarms,) that last one was far more conmen then, than it is now.
While I don’t have documentation historically I know both were I am from Newfoundland and Cuba (lots of friends from there) had a tradition of tonics and teas for menses. While many mothers tell their daughters its to help with cramps many are actually abortive that are taken for 3-5 days before menses on a regular basis, there by preventing some pregnancy’s with out having many of the moral compilations of “birth control†I would not in the least be surprised if historically there were things like this.
Ash
I think a vinegar or lemon juice soaked sponge was the most popular form of contraception for women, although there were various herbal concoctions one took to prevent conception, as well (or to facilitate early termination). Let’s see, I can remember books by Lisa Kleypas (Forever, My Love), Robin Schone (pretty much all of them, with an interesting scene from Awaken, My Love to illustrate the point), Susan Johnson (her most recent historical, as well as some of her earlier books), Eloisa James (the one where the heroine thinks she’s too frail to have kids so her husband gives her one of those “remedies”), uhm, uhm, uhm, I know there are others. Did Judith Ivory of Patricia Gaffney address this issue? How about in Sleeping Beauty?
Nicole Jordan’s characters frequently go about with silk pouches filled with “sponges with thin strings attached and bottles of liquid” (brandy or vinegar) that are usually supplied by the hero, who then makes a production of instructing the heroine in its uses, or he himself inserts it as part of foreplay.
I also vaguely recall some of Catherine Coulter’s western books (Wild Star, etc) using similar birth control.
Not about birth control but heroines’ virginity: a few friends and I have observed that several fantasy romance novels feature “revirginification.” The one I’m personally familiar with—not naming names here—features a heroine who is a prostitute, but whose body is returned to its “pure” state, hymen intact, just in time for Twu Wuv to come along. That was nearly a throw-the-book-across-the-room moment for me.
In “Border Bride” by Arnette Lamb the mistress uses a contraceptive sponge. The heroine finds it and apparently knows enough about birth control to know what it is.
In “The Actress & The Marquis” by Cindy Holbrook there is a very funny scene where the grandmother of the hero asks the heroine (whom she believes to be his actress/mistress) if she uses the “French letter,” and the heroine replies, “Of course. And every other kind, English, Italian, Greek! I know my translations, and… uhm… use them!”
I remember Susan Johnson’s usage of doushing with various liquids, but not much beyond that.
Speaking of real life contraceptives, the ancient Mediterranean world (Rome, Greece, Asia Minor, etc.) used Silphium as a contraceptive (Pliny the Elder mentions it). It was used so much that it became extinct!
I can’t remember any mentions off the top of my head, but I do think I’d rather go without the crocodile dung in the scene.
I didn’t read the lack of birth control as being because the Pure Innocent Virgin isn’t allowed to know such things. I thought the H/H don’t use it because evil whores hate babies, while virtuous heroines can’t wait to get knocked up by their true love. Or something.
C’mon, people, nobody’s read Diana Gabaldon? i KNOW you have. Claire does the whole sponge-in-oil thing, and teaches it to her friends. and i think there are also mentions of certain teas that can prevent conception or cause abortion. dangerous teas, but there ya go.
In one of the early Amanda Quick’s-I think it was Seduction the heroine drinks an herbal tea. Other than that,I got nuthin’.
The heroine in Jane Feather’s “Accidental Bride” uses herbs to keep from conceiving (though there is some confusion as to whether she injests them orally or stuffs them up her vagina) because one of her bestest friend is an herbalist. And I’m pretty sure I’ve read about the “herbal” method before.
And in Susan Johnson’s “Legendary Lover” they use condoms (borrowed from some other lord at the ball) and then have arguments about whether they should keep doing it after they run out of condoms.
I remember one of Elizabeth Lowell’s “Only…” westerns in which the vinegar doused sponge is used as a contraceptive… and that’s pretty much the only historical I remember where a contraceptive method is part of the plot in any way! Hmmm….
spamfoiler: cent41 (but it’s more like two only)
It doesn’t bother me when the heroine in a historical doesn’t use birth control as much as it bothers me when she doesn’t even thing about the possibility of getting pregnant.
Having said that, I’ve read historicals where they use condoms, sponges, half of a scooped out lemon (yes it would work, like a diaphragm), withdrawal (coitus interruptus), herbal douches, herbal teas, rhythm method, and mutual masturbation.
Something like a vinegar soaked sponge may not be perfect by modern standards, but I’m willing to accept almost any historic method as a plot device.
Yay! Thanks for the quote, Sarah, I squealed a bit. Ok, a lot.
I think its that the virgin who understands birth control is somehow less pure. Purity in these romance novels is a huge deal, and there is some weird view that the hero’s sperm must be completely accepted in order to make their love complete, a la Dawn Eden. I read one novel where the pirate kept pulling out, as he had for all his lovers, and the way the heroine knew he loved her was that he came inside her- or, how was it put? Was finally willing to give her a piece of himself that he had never shared. I almost threw up. “You dumb bint!†I yelled, feeling strangely British, “Don’t you know you are still engaged to another man!?â€
I think the reason heroines it’s the same reason that women, especially college women, are afraid to carry condoms- it implies that they know sex could happen, and that they are somehow slutty because of that. Meanwhile, going to a bar knowing you want sex and NOT bringing protection and having unsafe sex is somehow more pure. Likewise, we (well, someone) want our heroines way purer than regular “Grade A Virginâ€- she also can’t masturbate, understand her body, have good sex with anyone else, have sex with women, or plan her babies.
One of the most interesting books I have read is “When Abortion Was a Crime.†It discusses the shift to the idea that an abortion was a medical procedure end a pregnancy, whereas prior to that it was simply “bringing on menses.†(If anyone is interested, its also the book club book over at Pandagon, and the text is available online).
I’ve *heard* that in the Victorian era (and before, I’m sure) married couples sometimes had anal sex exclusively if it would’ve been dangerous for the woman to have more children. That’s an undocumented fact, but fun all the same!
In one of my books, the hero withdraws. In another, the heroine uses herbs (taken orally) because she don’t want no bebbies. Evil? Very possibly.
The never thinking about pregnancy thing (*cough Suzanne Enoch cough*) drives me nuts too.
I’ve been encountering contraception in hsitoricals more and more lately. In Jo Beverely’s Something Wicked, the heroine even writes a pamphlet about it. Others: The Duke by Galaen Foley (sponge), Fool for Love, the Eloisa James previously mentioned (sponge/called a sheath – but the heroine is incorrectly informed by her knowledgable friend that you can’t get pregnant the first time). One Night of Sin Foley (condom), One Night with a Prince by Sabrina Jeffries (condom). I confess I kinda like to see the condoms, I get squicked out by all the promiscuity…
I suspect we’d enjoy historical romances a great deal less if they weren’t sanitized. Romance authors seldom describe all the disgusting aspects of living in the past, especially in Medievals when people had rotten teeth, body odor and lice.
I confess I kinda like to see the condoms, I get squicked out by all the promiscuity…
I totally agree! But I also love the ol’ “he always uses a sheath, but forgets with his true love” plot device. I’m sorry, but I love it!
Mock me if you will. Those of you who don’t have a magic hooha simply don’t understand. It’s a burden shared by only a few of us.
I don’t think that it’s always a case of the heroine being a virgin in romance novels. Admittedly this was predominantly the case in the historicals written in the 1980s, but in recent years I’ve seen a fair number of historical romances that didn’t have viginal heroines. It may not be the majority of the romances in print, but non-virginal heroines even “scandalous women” as heroines do exist.
You are spot on about the birth control. I can only think of a few instances where it’s addressed (usually by the guy using “French letters.” But, you’re right, it tends to be one of the things which are glossed over in the novels.
Being a virgin with a vast expanse of sexual knowledge, I just find the idea of the virgin who’s completely unaware of sex rather tedious. So I wouldn’t find knowledge of birth control methods, or sex in general, to be out of character or distracting, even in a historical.
In “Beast” by Judith Ivory the hero uses condoms at the beginning of the book with his married lover. Her husband is such a man ho that the hero is afraid to have sex with her unless it’s wrapped.
I read one where the girl used some block of wood that was a “folk” remedy. and quite a few (surprisingly) that use some sort of sponge like contraption. It is often remarked upon by the hero that he finds it extremely sexy, or puts it there himself. HMMMM…? Doubtful?
But completely and totally accurate. There are women in the Victorian time and earlier who are known to have consulted their doctors for infertility but who were *shocked* to find out they had to have sex in order to get pregnant. Their husbands were impotent and they didn’t know there was a problem. They didn’t know sex *existed*. And I’m talking educated, intelligent women. Marie Stopes, the future birth control and sex education crusader, was one of them – and she had a double major with double honours in SCIENCE from Munich University.
Susan Johnson had one of her heroines use a cervical cap (sorry, I don’t remember which book…probably came out in the late 90s.) Of course, the hero was so, er, “manly” that the cap was knocked out of place and they then had to use condoms. Loretta Chase (?) wrote a book I read in high school about a female doctor in turn of the century NY who was advocating for BC rights. Good book, if I remember correctly, and described well the impact of the Comstock Laws and difficulties in being an advocate for BC in those days. Check out a bio of Margaret Sanger for even scarier descriptions.
Regarding the virgin not knowing anything…two points. One: that bullshit about not getting pregnant the first time is STILL going around and most sex information comes from a woman’s friends. Translate that to women in the 1800s and you have a recipe for ignorant disaster. Two: I don’t mind the virgin not knowing anything. I’m more skeptical about her not freaking out that someone is touching and invading her hooha, having multiple orgasms and loving sex from the get go. Statistics today would indicate that many young women don’t masterbate and, um, get to know themselves better. Thanks to the Hooha Monologues perhaps, the message is getting out (and has obviously reached the women of this board…yay!) But a woman from the 1800s getting jiggy wi’ it? First, consider that she probably doesn’t know that it is a source of enjoyment. Secondly, consider how badly “it” probably would have smelled. Ugh. I wouldn’t want to put my hands on/in it either.
Candice Hern’s In the Thrill of the Night the heroine drinks a concoction before the event in order to ward off pregnancy. This method was suggested by one of her fellow “merry widows”.
Or somehow the main couple can go at it for months, and not get pregnant until the time is right, which is a bit too tidy for my tastes.
While we were living together, my man and I had unprotected sex for about a year before we conceived … two weeks after we got married. Is that tidy or what? I’m pregnant with my third child right now and it took us something like six months of “baby dancing” to conceive. Yes, some people get pregnant at the drop of a hat, but for some it takes months, sometimes even years, before it happens.
I don’t recall reading any romances that talked about BC, but Michael Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White went into graphic description of the prostitutes douching themselves almost violently after sex to avoid pregnancy.
Pennyroyal, and tansy I think, is what was used in the concoction mention in Candice Hern’s book. The abortifacients prevented implantation, but were chancy because if you weren’t careful about the dosing you could end up poisoning yourself and causing damage your organs.
Jen said “…it’s the same reason that women, especially college women, are afraid to carry condoms- it implies that they know sex could happen, and that they are somehow slutty because of that. Meanwhile, going to a bar knowing you want sex and NOT bringing protection and having unsafe sex is somehow more pure.”
When I was in college, I had a neighbor who was 2 years younger than me and still in high school, inform me that “nice girls don’t use birth control because that means you’re planning to have sex and nice girls don’t plan to have sex.” I wasn’t surprised when she wound up pregnant a few months later.
and now 20+ years later, I occasionally substitute teach and unfortunately I’ve heard almost those exact words come out of the mouths of a few of the students.
‘Kay, I admit to being a little OCD: I went and searched for the books. The Susan Johnson book was “Brazen” published in 1995—let me tell you it fried my little teenaged mind. If I’d had a vibrator then many, many batteries would have been sacrificed to the lust goddess. Ten years later just the cover can make me a littel wibbly.
The other book was by Lindsay Chase (not Loretta) and was titled “The Oath.” Good luck finding it as it was published circa ‘91, but it was a good book with an unusual setting and a (gasp!) woman with a career. (It should be mandatory reading for all the infants out there who take their reproductive rights for granted. Maybe they’d wake up and care that the GOP has been steadily chipping away at them for years.)
Back to the main topic, ultimately I don’t care about the virginity issue or the BC issues as long as they’re used in character. I definately get skeeved by rampant unprotected promiscuity, especially with prostitutes (hello Mallory boys!). I think unusual (and use of BC/masturbation/what goes where would qualify) sexual knowledge needs to be explained in the character. If 21st century women don’t know that urine doesn’t come out the clitoris (I read a published nursing journal that demonstrated appropriate technique for placing a urinary catheter…the diagram showed it being inserted into the clitoris!) and tampons don’t go in the anus, I have a very low threshold for what I expect 19th century women to know. And I always expect the men to know less.
Statistics today would indicate that many young women don’t masterbate and, um, get to know themselves better.
I’m actually shocked when people are surprised/horrified/taken aback that a historical heroine wouldn’t have discovered the magic of her clitoris. Now I’m not saying there shouldn’t be masturbating heroines out there; far from it. But there are plenty of women in this enlightened day and age who don’t have orgasms until later in life, self-administered or not. And we modern women know without a doubt that orgasms are out there, just waiting for us. I think you can excuse the poor historical heroine if she’s not rubbing off every night. She didn’t get her copy of My Body, My Self.
To Victoris:
Amen, sister! And may I say that I wish my mom had just handed me a copy of My Body, My Self (I got mine in college) and not drawn all those embarassing sketches! 🙂
When I was in college, I had a neighbor who was 2 years younger than me and still in high school, inform me that “nice girls don’t use birth control because that means you’re planning to have sex and nice girls don’t plan to have sex.†I wasn’t surprised when she wound up pregnant a few months later.
Well, if it’s good enough for the federal government . . . that federal funding for sex ed is dependent on teachers NOT saying anything about condoms except to stress their weaknesses, and to allow ONLY abstinence only “education” is very revealing, isn’t it? As is the study done a couple of years ago on how kids who take those abstinence/virginity pledges routinely engage in riskier sexual behavior to avoid hymenal breakage, resulting in higher levels of STDs. And lest we forget what happened in Texas this past election—okay, now I’m depressed.
I was scarred by reading James Boswell’s diaries too young – the contraception not only sounded a bit unappealing, but it demonstratably didn’t work. He seemed to be eternally suffering with some or other sort of STD. And it honestly has left an association in my mind – if I read about a rake tying on a piece of sheep’s gut, I’d wonder who else he’d been with, and what diseases he was passing on.
When I was in college, I had a neighbor who was 2 years younger than me and still in high school, inform me that “nice girls don’t use birth control because that means you’re planning to have sex and nice girls don’t plan to have sex.†I wasn’t surprised when she wound up pregnant a few months later.
A while back, I lurked in a discussion on some romance board or other in which a poster—an author and reader of romance—opined that she doesn’t like to see heroines in romance novels carry or even consider using condoms (even in contemporary books) because it gives her the sneaking suspicion that these characters are somehow “dirty.” Diseased, on other words.
Because squeaky clean women don’t need to think of such things. Apparently, the supernatural properties of the magic hooha will ward off any and all viruses or infectious micro-organisms. Even in erotic romance, wherein the couples often get busy without knowing each other’s last names.
I had no response for this person that didn’t begin with, “You. Out of the gene pool. Now.”
And so I said nothing, assuming that her opinions about women and condom usage extended no further than the pages of the books she reads and writes, and that safe sex—monogamy, abstinence or actual use of actual rubbers—rules the day in her real life activities.
One can hope.
But a woman from the 1800s getting jiggy wi’ it? First, consider that she probably doesn’t know that it is a source of enjoyment. Secondly, consider how badly “it†probably would have smelled. Ugh.
And this is why it always cracks me up when I see a historical love scene where the heroine’s twat is described as tasting like honey. Um. No, probably it tastes of sweat and old pee. Romantic!
Amy—in defense of historical accuracy, people did wash in the old days, they just didn’t always have the opportunity to take a full bath, nor did they want to given the lack of heating and the difficulty in filling and emptying a tub.
But they’d wash areas where bacteria formed or that were viewed by the public—face, hands, neck, under arms and crotch. You don’t have to wash your limbs every day, and in fact, it’s better if you don’t. You’re washing off a lot of natural oils your body needs.
Also, you get used to body odor—yours and that of others—and eventually your sense of smell adjusts.
I find historicals where the heroine takes a full bath every day much more bothersome than one where she does a quick wash and maybe gets a twice weekly sit down in a tub if she’s wealthy.
My grandmother who was born in the mid 1880’s once said something in my hearing about what she called a “slut’s” bath—explicitly “face, feet and crotch”. Seemed eminently sensible to me if you had to haul buckets of water to fill a bath. She also acted in her community as a midwife and sort of health advisor to women, prior to 1950’s when it became easier to get medical care. She recommended as did the mother of a friend of mine, sitting in a bath of really hot water and sipping weak penny royal tea if you “friend from Red River” hadn’t come to visit on time.
Also about the sheep’s gut thing—I too read Boswell’s journals and I think one of his problems was the fact that there was no way to get rid of an STD once you had it. There were treatments (mercury!) that were either ineffective or killed you. Diana Gabaldon’s book Lord John and the Private Matter deals with the situation where the hero learns that the person who is to marry cousin has the syphilis. I had to admit I totally cracked up while listening to it when an apothecary offers the hero a sheath with a ribbon in regimental colors. They were definitely durable goods rather than single use items!
One other point, on the eBay Pottery and glass board someone recent posted a picture of a condom keeper from the early 20th century. It was Made in Japan for export. It consisted of a small dish with a penis modeled on the side with a path from the dish to the end of the penis where there was a hole. From what was said I wasn’t sure if you kept the condoms in the dish or put a condom on the modeled penis then tipped some sort of lubricate into it by tilting the dish. However, it was a fascinating bit of birth control history that I had never heard of before.
In Beyond Seduction by Emma Holly the heroine douches after sex. Of course, the hero has to show her how to do it – but hey, better than nothing.
Also, in I Do, I Do, I Do by Maggie Osborne, all the heroines use something that sounds like a cervical cap. I can’t for the life of me remember what they called it now, but I go the gist when I read the story.