Unmentionable, page 10
“You may think that you can then throw off all restraint, and make her feel that she is yours, but beware! though she will be yours, she will have her maidenly feelings… she will be the same modest young lady whom you courted, but do not shock her modesty. Treat her with the same consideration as when you courted her.”
“No, everything’s fine! She talked it over with her mother, and they decided ether was the best way to tackle the problem.”
There were reasons beyond common decency to treat your bride with patience and gentleness that first night. Most of the authors on the topic agreed that a poorly executed initial marital congress (“playing a game of nug-a-nug!”) laid the groundwork for a lifetime of suffering, for both partners.
John Harvey Kellogg, one of the most famous physicians of the late nineteenth century (and, as we will later learn, an absolute monster), was surprisingly sympathetic to the bride. Should this night be ugly, he warns the grooms, so shall be the rest of your married life.
“Many a woman dates the beginning of a life of suffering from the first night after marriage; and the mental suffering from the disgusting and even horrible recollections of that night, the events of which were scarred upon her mind as well as upon her body, have made her equally as wretched mentally as bodily. A learned French writer, in referring to this subject, says, ‘The husband who begins with his wife by a rape is a lost man. He will never be loved.’”
Dr. Kellogg also shows uncommonly advanced thinking about a woman’s right to her own body.
“The most heroic battle which many a man can fight is to protect his wife from his own lustful passions. Every young wife should know that it is her duty as well as her privilege to protect herself from the possible causes of life-long suffering. It is no woman’s duty to surrender herself soul and body to her husband simply because he has promised to ‘love and protect her.’”
Hudson agrees. Especially since, according to his experience, a lady’s first time making love (“having your corn ground!”) will be horrible no matter what you do.
“But you must be patient; never try to force matters at all; be as tender as a mother with her child; remember that the pleasures of married life will be anything but pleasures to the young maiden whom you have taken for your wife. Be as gentle as you may, they will cause her intense suffering; but if you are coarse, and brutal and rash, what torture they will be to her! They may even render your person ever after repulsive to her, so that she can never enjoy them with you. Such a feeling would deprive you of the enjoyment which you are expecting in the marriage relation, and might lead you to that ruinous step, infidelity to the marriage vow. Be wise, therefore; deny yourself at first, for the sake of future enjoyment; regard your wife’s feelings and desires to the utmost.”
Most experts were in agreement. Don’t rape your wife, though technically it is your right; women are tetchy and hold grudges about that kind of thing.
Some jokes don’t age as well as others.
Dr. Virgil Primrose English went a step further and illustrated, in story form, just how such a night might unfold, particularly if the husband had well acquainted himself with prostitutes before his marriage. He, being a very stupid young man, assumes that the behavior of the paid sex worker is indicative of all women.
“The harlots with whom he used to associate… flattered him regarding his sexual parts and powers, and the pleasure he gave them by intercourse, leading him to believe that he is as far superior to other men, as the sun is brighter than the moon. He realizes that his bride is virtuous, and inexperienced, and he congratulates himself upon the pleasure he is about to give her. His manner is more or less rough, and decidedly thoughtless as he attempts intercourse, and he is greatly surprised that the penis does not readily enter the vagina, and when the bride displays evidence of pain, he thinks she is trying to deceive him, and he perseveres with redoubled persistence and vigor. This results in thoroughly frightening the bride, and in causing her intense suffering, and injuring her besides. She perhaps cries, and wishes she had never left her home, and he is disappointed and thoroughly disgusted, and thinks she is a little fool, and good for nothing. He doesn’t see how she could be so unlike other women, and heartily wishes he had never seen her. The reader may imagine the rest.”
Gertie was always up for anything.
I don’t understand. The women I paid to say I was the best lover they ever had all said I was the best lover they ever had! And they’ve had a lot! So what’s your deal, crybaby? If you’d stop sniveling and put your knees over your head like Dirty Gertie always does, you’d have a chance to enjoy this incredible experience I’m offering you!
As I said, a very stupid man, but yet not out of the realm of possibility.
Slaves and Graves
The dangers of a botched wedding night go beyond hurt feelings and sore soft bits. One way or another, bad sex kills. Says Dr. English,
“The bride’s beauty and vigor, the voluptuous figure and feelings, the hopes and plans, the love and sentiment, aye, even the interest in her husband, and the desire to live, will be quickly blasted.… What husband can be happy, and hopeful, and light hearted, and picture a rosy future, when his wife is slowly sinking into her grave?”
And he’s not just talking about the death of the soul. Similarly, Dr. Kellogg is a man prepared for the worst, including having your bride bleed out, right there in the honeymoon suite.
“The beginning as well as the full fruition of physiological marriage is accompanied by a more or less considerable amount of suffering on the part of the wife. This is in part due to the highly sensitive character of the mucous surfaces, and in part to the presence of the hymen. It should be borne in mind, however, that it is not only possible for such a rupture to take place, but that undue violence may give rise to a dangerous and even fatal hemorrhage, or to an equally dangerous inflammation.”
A young John Harvey Kellogg, before he went completely starkers.
Perhaps this is what leads Dr. Kellogg to once again make the bold pronouncement that women are under no obligation to give a husband sex on demand. He decrees this slavery.
“Many a woman is by her marriage vow introduced to a slavery far more galling and vastly more debasing than that which cost this nation years of civil war and hundreds of thousands of lives to abolish. The great majority of sufferers keep their troubles wholly secret, knowing that they have little sympathy to expect from those who believe this to be the proper lot of woman,—a burden imposed upon her by the curse; but now and then a woman’s sufferings become too great to be longer borne in silence, and the facts come to the surface. It is high time that there was a change of public sentiment in reference to this matter. Of all the rights to which a woman is entitled, that of the custody of her own body is the most indubitable.”
Oh, Dr. Kellogg. Why is it so often the absolute nutters who, between their blistering of six-year-old boys’ penises so they won’t masturbate and prescribing cornflakes to cure “hysteria,” which isn’t even really a thing, also speak sense so far ahead of their times? Granted, Dr. Kellogg would not have extended this support of a woman’s right to her own body much further than the marriage bed. But it was very forward thinking for his era.
Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up Without Age-Appropriate Knowledge
What can be done to save a bride from the trauma of physical love (“bonestorming!”)? Much, say the Victorian men whose minds dwell so completely on the state of women’s private parts. (I might add here that I searched deeply for a book of this nature written for women by women. I am still convinced one must exist. I have not found it. So we are left once again to have the men teach us how to tend our peaks and valleys.)
Only a few of the authors, including Dr. Hoff, seem to have decoded the physical necessity of what is commonly known today as foreplay. Unless you caress and comfort your new wife, her sacred orifice will fold in upon its own tight and dusty walls.
“The condition of the female organs depends upon the condition of her mind, just as much as in the case of the male. He, however, is more sensual, and is more quickly roused. She is much less often or early ready. In its unexcited state, her vagina is lax, and its walls closed together and somewhat harsh and dry, little lubricating secretion being present. The modest bride has no desire that this sacred vestibule to the great arcana of procreation shall be immediately invaded.”
“All right, darling. I think my vestibule is prepared. Thank you for your patience.”
Yes, a husband’s knowing that his wife must be cajoled and sweetly led to a state of submission that she may participate in an act the likes of which she’s seen played out only in a barnyard (“grummeting!”) is one good way to keep your marriage from imploding on its first night.
But the best defense should be instigated long before that night. A young husband may struggle to believe this, and most certainly not want to dwell on it in the heat of the moment, but his only real ally in this endeavor is the bride’s mother. A mother’s timely and prudent advice will maintain the purity of his bride’s mind (no naughty pictures, no lascivious stories that will engorge her delicacy before he gets a chance to) while making sure she doesn’t enter the marital chamber with the mentality of a frightened child. And to many “experts” of the time, a mother’s common refusal to do this was a near-criminal act. Says Kellogg,
“Many mothers seem to regard it a sort of virtue in their daughters that they are wholly ignorant of the import of marriage and its duties, and purposely keep them in ignorance, repressing in them any desire to acquire knowledge on the subject. Such a course we regard as criminally foolish, and the result of a perverted education on the part of the mothers of the present generation.”
Even today, when every deodorant commercial and chewing-gum package is somehow saturated in sexuality, it is difficult for many mothers and daughters to discuss personal subjects. But asking a Victorian woman to violate a lifetime of shushed modesty to pollute her most innocent creation with the news that things are about to get real—well, it must have been excruciating. Who among us wants to be part of a dialog that begins:
“Remember, sweetheart, when we took Flossie to mate with the Gundersons’ bull? And you thought he was killing her? And she was lowing away like she was in such pain? Well, aren’t you in for a surprise!”
But Kellogg rightfully insists: it’s practically a form of abuse to send a girl into the marital chamber without preparing her. What if she thinks he made “it” (the Featherbed Jig) up himself? The very fact that he could concoct such a perversion will crush her soul and send her screaming into the night!
“Don’t be glum, dearest! I always like to think of it as a good time to go over the household budget in my head!”
“On this subject every woman should have full and reliable information before entering the marriage relation. Mothers should not think that because they were ignorant, their daughters should be equally so. Thousands of women might have saved themselves from life-long suffering had they received the proper instruction at the right time.”
Dr. Hoff paints an even more heart-wrenching picture. A poor girl jumps into her marriage bed in her new bridal peignoir made of the heaviest-quality cambric, with eleven separate rows of tucks, ribbons, flounces, beading, Hamburg embroidery, and point de Paris lace, all set to snuggle the daylights out of her handsome groom. (Because heaven knows those bridal trousseaus don’t allow for much other movement.) And inside the bed what does she find? Mortification, that’s what.
And sometimes being forewarned just makes for depressing wedding photography.
“What wonder that some brides have come to their mothers and female friends after marriage, to whom they had a right to look for advice and warning concerning these things, and, with passionate tears of shame and indignation, have reproached them bitterly, saying: ‘Oh, why did you not tell me! Why should an innocent girl be thus deceived and outraged with allurements of false happiness!’”
Allurements of false happiness! She had been led to believe that there were no penises, and now that beautiful dream is dashed to bits. For shame, mothers. The girl is going to discover that pernicious member one way or another. How cruel of you to send her into the wilds of marriage and not even suggest that, like the concealed but deadly poison dart frog of South America, there are penises a-lurk in this apparent paradise, and they are ready to strike!
Pleasure Is a Pulsating Womb
So aside from foreknowledge, and foreplay, what other measures can be taken to ensure a pleasant wedding-night experience?
This is important. Don’t let him try to crunch you up into any weird, unnatural positions. James Ashton doesn’t want to see that peculiar tube of yours curving in the wrong directions. After all, creative positioning during the venereal act (“frickle-frackle!”) can cause fungal growth, cancer, and death.
“Any unnatural performance of this act is apt to impair the health of the female, and many women have been seriously injured and rendered miserable for life by the beastliness of their husbands in this respect. Unnatural positions will cause derangements and bearing down of the womb… and sometimes will originate tumors and fungi in the private parts. A woman of delicate mould and constitution might be fatally injured in this manner; and no female, however robust, can enjoy sexual intercourse except in the position intended by Nature.”
To be clear, Ashton explains the one true position, ordained by God and Nature, for amorous congress (“jiggery-pokery!”).
“The natural position to which we have alluded suggests itself to every married pair who possess the most remote particle of love for each other. But to make it unmistakable, we would say, that the female should lie upon her back, with her legs straight down or if the legs are raised, they should be but slightly elevated. All other positions are unnatural and unhealthy. I could illustrate this fact by several cases in point, but the details are too disgusting.”
Having the woman’s legs firmly locked downward seems as if it would make an already tricky act nearly impossible, but you, my virgin flower, are not to know that. Luckily other experts, like Dr. Hoff, allow the female to slightly draw her knees up. That extra bit of berth may be quite helpful.
But don’t go any further with your acrobatics, now. Just so that you can be certain to never, say in a moment of passion, accidentally perform any of the forbidden marital connections (“a rough mow!”), Dr. Ashton hints at them.
“Suffice it then to say, that I have known females suffering from painful diseases caused by sexual connection in a standing position, in a position where their partners approached them from behind, and also in one case where the woman was forced or persuaded to lie on her back with her knees up against her chest. No female can desire such intercourse as this, because she cannot enjoy it.”
Hush! Upon your lips is the question “How in the world would you presume to know that, sir?” and there it will stay! He knows because he has probably seen many an unhappy woman with female trouble, asked them what their sexual positions of late have been, and thereby drawn the obvious conclusion. That’s called science. At least in this century. To these men.
Besides, everyone knows that there is only one way a woman can fully enjoy connubial thrusts. A woman who does not reach a state of polite ecstasy during intercourse is not having her parts properly manipulated.
If you think this indicates a lack of clitoral stimulation, that is your second mistake. Your first is thinking about a clitoris at all, you tawdry thing. No, it is commonly known that clitoral stimulation is no more than an exterior irritation women must do their best to ignore. Rather, the seat of female climax is, most naturally, the seat of life itself: her womb.
Says Ashton:
“Many women say that they experience very little sexual feeling, and that the act of copulation is to them a matter of indifference. This is because the mouth of the Womb is not reached or touched by the glans of the male organ; and the pleasurable sensation of the female is then confined to a slight irritation of the Clitoris and Nymphaea [labia], in the private parts.
“When the amorous sensations of the female are excited during connection, the womb becomes engorged with blood, and moves up and down in the Vagina, bringing the neck in contact with the glans of the male organ, and this contact, if not too violent, is the perfection of sexual indulgence for both parties.”
Quick guide: peculiar tube leads to sloshy baby hole. Ignore the rest; it’s just there to confuse you.
The problem is you’ve not got your womb bouncing good and proper. If you were performing the act as it was intended, your uterus would begin to bounce and slosh like a buoy on a lake full of motorboats, likely in anticipation of the small human who may soon lodge within it. That is the only way a woman can experience true sexual fulfillment.
Warning: Do Not Have Relations (“Rumbusticating!”)
After a large meal, “instances having been known of apoplexy [cerebral hemorrhage or stroke] being induced by the excitement of connection, being superadded to the stimulative influence of wine and food.”
