The Victorian Joy of Sex: Prudish? Far from it. A racy new book reveals our ancestors could teach today's lovers a thing or two about, ahem, 'courtship'
Those with small breasts
were advised that a little judicious padding might not go amiss — with
the proviso that if they began this deception with a suitor before
marriage, they should be prepared for him to be disappointed on the
wedding night. Like their
21st-century counterparts, Victorian commentators worried about the
legalisation of the sex industry, the ethics and availability of
contraception and the horrors of human trafficking and child
prostitution.
But, writes Riddell, if the
19th century abounded with attitudes that we can readily identify with,
our forebears also espoused many ideas that now seem utterly alien. Among
the most significant of these, she suggests, is the Victorian fear of
the dangers involved with what they euphemistically called the practice
of ‘the solitary vice’.The
Swiss neurologist Samuel-Auguste Tissot had published his influential
L’Onanisme in 1760, in which he suggested that the consequences of
masturbation included insanity or even death.
More than 100 years
later, Tissot’s theories were still widely believed, with the fear of
‘the solitary vice’ dominating Victorian marriage guides and advice on
morals and manners. One well-known author on the subject was J. H. Kellogg, creator of the cornflake. Those
tempted to indulge, it was suggested, should avoid mustard, pepper,
rich gravy, beer, wine, cider and tobacco, all of which created a
craving for sensual gratification. Rather
than risk the consequences of ‘the solitary vice’, those in possession
of 100 guineas could purchase a ‘femme de voyage’ or inflatable sex aid,
for the ‘special use of gentlemen on their travels’.
These
ingenious contraptions could be packed up and stored under a
gentleman’s hat, and were also ‘a highly successful alternative to those
who fear contamination or pollution from illicit acts with questionable
lovers’. Another commonly
held and erroneous belief was the notion that a woman could become
pregnant only if she experienced an orgasm at the same time as her
lover.Without this, the female seed could not be released and no child would be formed in her womb. Furthermore, at the conclusion of the sexual act, the wife must not talk, cough or sneeze, lest this impede conception.
In 1845, the French
physician Eugene Becklard, in his book Physiological Mysteries And
Revelations In Love, Courtship And Marriage: An Infallible Guide-book
For Married And Single Persons, In Matters Of The Utmost Importance To
The Human Race, took this argument to its supposed logical conclusion
and argued that since the ‘fecundating principle’ would not enter the
womb unless a woman craved it do so, ‘a rape can never be productive of
real offspring’. He also
propounded the view that ‘the party, whose temperament predominates in
the child, was in the highest state of orgasm at the period of
intercourse’. Crucially,
any union without true love, according to the manuals of the day, would
bring forth ‘ill-looking, sour and spiritless offspring’, while those
hoping for good-looking children should remember that sex must not be
‘faintly or drowsily performed’. Intriguingly, though, babies conceived during the daytime often turned out both ‘fine and handsome’. Conversely,
women were cautioned that ‘a child that was begat upon a set of stair
is most likely to be born with a crooked back and given in no small way
to the fault of staring’. And if the husband was unfaithful, children he sired were likely to be ‘weak and wretched’ and grow up unhappy. As
if all this weren’t enough for the beleaguered Victorian matron to take
in, further gems of advice unearthed by Riddell’s researches include
the suggestion that children who were conceived in spring and summer
could be expected to have darker complexions than those conceived in
autumn and winter. Similarly,
children ‘begat when the wind is blowing from the north’ would tend to
be stronger than those conceived during an easterly wind. An illegitimate child, on the other hand, would be full of ‘fire and energy’.
This was evidence (albeit
hypocritical in view of the Victorians’ moral code) of the passions
which engulfed its parents at the time of conception. On
the subject of choosing a partner, a wealth of advice — some of it
downright bizarre — was available to young men and women of the period. No
man, for example, should marry a woman with a nose similar to his own.
Women with Roman, or hooked, noses should not marry at all — or else
find a small-nosed husband. Not only this, but potential suitors should remember to check skin tone, body shape, chin, height and size of feet. A broad and square chin was thought to be indicative of a jealous nature, while a long chin proved grace and humility. Big-footed
men and women, although awkward on first meeting, made the most
reliable partners, while small-footed people were deemed prone to
reckless gaiety. The plump
were renowned for their affable and easy nature. Those with sharp and
angular forms were energetic and earnest and prone to find fault with
the indolence of others. Tall
people were thought to have the most self-control, while short people
were the opposite, hence their frequent appearance in riotous mobs.
Gentlemen
were advised that the easiest way to choose their future intended was
to be guided by the shape of her legs. Sturdy legs with a neat ankle
were thought the most suitable for a man who wanted an intellectual
companion. Heavy legs
and coarse shoes were regarded as indicative of a coarse nature, while
thin yet muscular pins were best for a gentleman who wanted his home run
with military precision.
Once
marriage was finally in prospect, couples were counselled to bear in
mind that a warm climate made people feel sexier — an important factor
when planning the honeymoon, or wedding tour. Later,
however, when the stresses and strains of family life began to show,
gentlemen were reminded by one author that ‘hysterical wives or children
should be laid on a waterproof sheet on the floor and doused with a jug
of cold water.’ The
idea of such dominant men and submissive wives is, on the whole,
suggests Riddell, not a representative one. In reality, she says, the
century was full of strong, energetic women excelling in the fields of
literary and scientific endeavour, or campaigning to improve conditions
for their sex. While much of
the advice given out at the time was misguided and inaccurate, the
19th-century tenets of true love, respect and mutual physical pleasure
are, she believes, as relevant today as they were 150 years ago. And
for their timeless and illuminating advice on how to conduct a
successful sexual relationship — along with a wealth of architecture,
engineering, art and literature — we have a lot to thank the Victorians
for.
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