Copyright© 2002

October 4, 1894

My Dear Abigail,

I have dispatched you this note by hired messenger, lest it fall into the hands of Mr. Anthony Comstock and his zealous minions in the Postal Service.

I assume that by now you have seen Ruthie's article in the Fall issue of the "Hamilton Foundation Journal." Guidance and advice for the young bride, indeed.

"Morally upright matrons are always attentive to clever and inventive methods of thwarting and discouraging the amorous advances of the husband."

Excellent advice... for driving said husband straight into the embrace of strumpets and paramours. It is a perfect recipe for conjugal unhappiness, marital discord, domestic disaster, and a broken home.

At first, I considered this malignant little screed evidence of a budding sense of humor, a quality she evinced all too little of while Horatio and I were bringing her up. Unfortunately, I can give only scant credence to that possibility. She is in deadly earnest I fear.

I suppose it was preordained. She had to marry that loathsome Lothar Livingston, a depraved wretch hiding behind a priestly collar. If there is but one woman in his parish, single or married, who has not had her bottom pinched by that pious lecher, I have yet to meet her. Ruth, too, has had her little dalliances if there is any substance to what I hear. Let her then invent her mendacious little concoctions in a vain attempt to maintain her respectability. It will come to no good in the end.

Your kindred soul,
Pauline

October 6, 1894

Good Friend Pauline,

Let me say first of all that it would be rather presumptuous of me to advise you on such matters. I am not, after all, one of that tribe of Yellow Press scribblers who have attained a measure of notoriety by dispensing soothing bromides and shopworn nostrums to care-burdened readers. Moreover, we van Burens are in the habit of keeping our own counsel. You, however, have grown so very dear to me over the years that I cannot withhold comfort.

Perchance I did find that particular issue of the Journal lying about. A member of my domestic staff evidently receives it by subscription through the mails.

My dear, I do believe this matter weighs all too heavily upon you. I recall very well Ruth's misadventures as a young maiden; how she would prefer the company of young ruffians to that of her feminine contemporaries. I recollect, too, the sorry circumstances of her marriage to the not so very Reverend Livingston. Forgive me, dear, for being excessively blunt, but she had gotten in a delicate condition as a consequence of unseemly behavior with one or more of her unsavory associates, and was thus certainly in no position to pick and choose a more seemly companion for the voyage of holy matrimony.

"The wife should lie perfectly still during the conjugal act and in no case evince that she is obtaining enjoyment from same."

Ha! I do believe this is referred to as "dead arse" in less exalted circles. It would be quite effective in convincing the husband to seek his pleasures elsewhere.

"Sex is at best distressingly animal-like and an affront to one's dignity and injurious to the higher sensibilities."

I find very interesting her word choice in the article. In an attempt to avoid what she doubtlessly considers coarse and unsuitable language, she substitutes the baroque usage "sex" for conjugal relations.

"The bride, arrayed in her sleeping gown and having turned off the lights (blessed darkness hides all!), will lie passively upon the marriage bed awaiting the entrance of her lawfully wedded husband."

Likewise, I cannot imagine what she connotes by "turning off the lights," unless that refers to the process of putting out electrical lanterns. Not having those newfangled contraptions in my own home (this electrification frenzy will pass none too soon for me!), I am quite ignorant of such esoterica.

"Should he lift her gown and attempt to caress her thereunder, the bride must pull the covering quickly back in place, extricated herself from his clutches, and give him to understand that she must immediately attend to a call of nature."

I am tempted to laughter. Imagine a reader perusing her article 100 years hence. He might well think it falsified, if not meanwhile overcome by disgust at the sheer and utter hypocrisy expressed within.

Yours as ever,
Abby

October 9, 1894

Dear Abby,

Had it not been for my own grandmother, born to the enlightened Eastchester Eastheimers in a more forgiving century than ours, I myself might well have been hoodwinked by such invidious trumpery. Prior to my wedding day, dear old Grannie Ruth (after whom we were to name our ill-starred progeny) took me under her wing and instructed me in all those matters in which a bride-to-be needs to be guided. Fortunate indeed was I, as poor, bumbling Horatio (despite his tendency to blow his own horn), had not an inkling of how to conduct himself on that most blissful of nights after we were wed.

Subsequent to his first fumbling attempts, I was able to impart to Horry an appreciation of those various portions of a woman's anatomy that have need to be stimulated in order to facilitate her arousal. Indeed, in a matter of a few days we were both in a state suitable to take our pleasure from those most sweet of relations, which our Ruthie so vulgarly calls sex. If, as a result, I am to assume the mantle of shame for indulging in an "orgy of sexual lust," then so be it.