By Kate Manning, 10-22-14
To be unmarried and pregnant meant deep trouble.
Writing a novel—'My Notorious Life'—about an orphan girl on the streets of New York in the 19th century, I came across the fascinating lost history of a "females physician," who practiced for decades. Her name was Ann Lohman, alias "Madame Restell," and she was known as "the wickedest woman in New York." Why was she considered so wicked? Because she advertised and sold medicines that might cause miscarriage. If they didn't, Madame would perform an abortion. Restell's story was a wild one— of vast riches, sensational trials, riots, and the plight of many desperate women who used her services. This history was so compelling to me that my orphan girl protagonist grows up to share Madame's profession, and my novel borrows details of Restell's rip-roaring life. I came away believing that, far from being 'wicked,' Restell was an early pioneer of reproductive rights. My research led me to trial transcripts, old medical textbooks, newspaper headlines, and the advertisements that drew scores of women to Madame's offices, women like Maria Bodine.
In 1844 Maria Bodine, a 26-year-old unmarried servant girl, found herself pregnant by her boss, Joseph Cook. He sent Maria to see the infamous Madame Restell, whose advertised services included the sale of "Female Pills: an infallible regulator of ****** [menses]. They must not be used when ********[pregnant]." The many ads like this claimed the medicines would alleviate menstrual symptoms but were understood to mean that they'd end an unwanted pregnancy. The concoctions were made variously of tansy oil, pennyroyal, rue, ergot, perhaps opium, and had dangerous side effects (damage internal organs, seizures, death) but in correct doses were sometimes effective in causing miscarriage. If not, Madame promised "safe and immediate removal of all irregularities in females, with or without medicine, from whatever cause, at one visit." These ads were perhaps the first publicly available information women had about the possibility of family planning.
In the 1800s, unmarried pregnant girls like Maria were in deep trouble. Religious ideas about sin held that a woman's "virtue" was ruined if she had sex outside of marriage. Thus disgraced, a woman had few options if her "seducer" refused to marry her. Often she was banished, forced to live apart from family and community. This was an era when birth control was not widely available or reliable. Women could not vote, own property, or control their own money. (They could also be committed to an insane asylum on the say-so of a man[1]). Countless 'fallen' women—who'd been raped, or jilted by their lovers—had to resort to prostitution to make ends meet. Prostitutes lived an average of about four years, falling victim to violence and venereal disease. As for surrendering a child for adoption, in the mid-1800s, there were 30,000 homeless children[2] living on New York streets, and no reliable foster care or orphan asylums. Maria Bodine was in dire straits. Could Madame help her?
Restell suggested Maria board with her and have the baby, for, in addition to offering birth control information and devices like the "female syringe," Restell delivered babies, and helped place infants for adoption. But Maria could not afford boarding fees and Mr. Cook would not support a child. She chose to have an abortion. As with childbirth, there was no anesthesia in those days stronger than a shot of whiskey. "I was in great agony all the night," Maria later testified. "Madame slept with me. In the morning...I took a great flooding. [Madame] told me to have patience, and I would call her mother for it." When it was over, Restell brought her tea and crackers, gave her a dollar for travel and a kiss, before sending her on her way.[3]
Abortion in the early 1800s was considered a misdemeanor until "quickening," the time when a woman felt a fetus' movements. But it was difficult to prove that a woman had terminated a pregnancy, and women were not lining up to confess. The only reason there is a record of Maria's experience is because she felt unwell, went to a (male) doctor, and was made to accuse her 'seducer' Joseph Cook, and Madame, who were both arrested. Cook denied he knew Maria, claimed he was a victim of extortion, and was never prosecuted. But Restell's resulting trial sparked headlines, riveting the city.[4]
In court, the lawyers, judge, jury, and journalists were all men. Maria was viciously cross-examined on the witness stand. Restell's lawyers, to defend their client, said Maria was not to be trusted, for "as regards women, when they part with their chastity...no reliance can be placed in her that loses it." Maria was called a "foul, corrupt, loathsome, guilty a thing as ever polluted God's blessed earth by her pestilential presence." Listening to this invective, Maria collapsed in the courtroom.
Restell, who the papers called "a hag of misery," (and worse) was sentenced to a year in jail, guilty of misdemeanor. Yet after her release, Restell continued to practice. The wealthiest women in the city flocked to her offices. In her long career, despite other arrests, Restell was never proved to have injured a woman, an indication that she was a skilled practitioner. She earned so much money from selling medicines and helping her female patients, she built a mansion on Fifth Avenue. But in 1878, she was arrested again, entrapped by Anthony Comstock, a religious "anti-vice" crusader who posed as a husband seeking help for his wife—he said she might die if she had another child. The 1873 "Comstock Laws" had made it illegal to possess any birth control information or devices, and had outlawed abortion. In addition, male doctors were forcing women out of the practice of midwifery. Comstock was rumored to boast he had driven 15 people to suicide. One of them was Restell. Facing another sensational trial, Restell killed herself the morning she was due in court. Noting the date, April 1st, many believed she had faked suicide, and would one day spill the secrets of all the wealthy, powerful men whose wives, daughters, sisters, and mistresses who had used her services for decades. (When I read that, the plot of My Notorious Life fell right into my lap.)
By some estimates[5], one in five pregnancies ended in abortion in the 1800s. It was perhaps the most common form of birth control, and while dangerous, many women survived it. Childbirth was dangerous, too, and maternal mortality rates were high. But it was scandal and death by abortion, often carried out by unskilled practitioners, that brought sensational headlines and led to changes in the laws. In 1854, the papers were riveted by the story of 22-year-old Cordelia Grant, who'd accused her guardian, George Shackford, of impregnating her five times, each time insisting she have abortions. He promised to marry her, then abandoned her. In 1871, Alice Bowlsby, an unmarried woman, was found dead of an abortion, stuffed in a trunk in a railway station. The abortionist was arrested, and Bowlsby's lover killed himself, unwilling to endure the shame a trial would bring.
Still, for the most part, it was not single women who were having abortions, but married mothers wishing to limit the size of their families. "I am 30 years old and have 11 children... kidney and heart disease, wrote one mother to Margaret Sanger, who founded Planned Parenthood in 1921.[4] "Can you please help me. I have miss a few weeks and don't know how to bring myself around. I have cryed my self sick... The doctor won't do anything for me... Doctors are men and have not had a baby so they have no pitty..."(sic)
For most of history, women have resorted to abortion—the first known reference is in the Ebers Papyrus, an Egyptian medical text from about 1500 B.C.[6] The procedure was usually done alone and in secret, perhaps with the help of a friend or midwife. Women used probes—whalebone or turkey feather—and poisons like lye, and turpentine,[7] willing to risk injury, death, arrest, and shame to limit their family size. One woman, an actress, purportedly wrote a letter to Madame Restell in 1840, [6] saying: "It was a lucky star for me under which you were born. God bless you, dear Madam." A newspaper printed it as an example of Restell's wickedness. But in our times, we might interpret this letter as a rare example of a woman's voice, expressing gratitude for the choice to bear a child or not. As George Ellington wrote in his 1869 book The Women of New York, "The practice of producing abortions is indulged in by women of nearly all classes of society."[8] The difference between then and now is that abortion is legal, and one of the safest medical procedures.
Kate Manning is the author of My Notorious Life, a novel based loosely on the life of Ann Lohman.
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[1] See "Women & Madness" Phyllis Chesler. And: Most famous example of woman committed on say-so of husband.
[2] Inst. for Children, Poverty, Homelessness
[3] Clifford Browder, The Wickedest woman in New York p. 84
[4] "The Wonderful Trial of Caroline Ann Lohman" trial transcript
[5] It is estimated that the abortion rate jumped from one abortion in every 25-35 live births during 1800-1830 to one in every 5-6 live births by 1850. These figures may be a bit high (evidence is still sketchy), but are indicative of a trend. — Timothy Crumrin
[6] History of Contraception, Malcolm Potts and Martha Campbell
[7] Leeches, Lye and Spanish Fly, New York Times
[8] George Elington, The Women of New York, p. 410
From: From: elle.com
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