After my previous article on Regency Women: Beauty Behind the Scenes, I realized that the things I really want to know more about concerning Jane Austen’s Regency women aren’t (and weren’t) discussed as much as other topics such as beauty regimes.
I wanted to know about bodily functions (where in the world did a lady relieve herself if she was, say, at a ball?), feminine hygiene (what did women do during “that time of the month?”), and pregnancy and birth (why did so many women die as a result of childbirth?).
Finding this information wasn’t as easy as some of the other information I’ve researched over the years. Why? Because some of these topics (such as menstruation) weren’t discussed openly or written about during Jane Austen’s time. Scholarly authors and bloggers even sometimes make the joke, “maybe women didn’t menstruate back then!”
The truth is, Regency women had specific needs, just as women do now, but information about those needs was shared more discreetly. Women passed information, supplies, and advice to one another—from mother to daughter, sister to sister, cousin to cousin, and even friend to friend. Additionally, terms and nicknames were used for certain topics, such as “in that way” (pregnant); “lying-in” or “confinement” (nearing her due date); and “brought to bed” (gave birth). We can imagine that in some families, young women were informed about such topics without much or any discussion; in others, perhaps a bit more instruction was provided.
I can’t help wishing they had not travelled quite so fast, nor made such a long journey of it, for they came all round by London upon account of some business, for you know (nodding significantly and pointing to her daughter) it was wrong in her situation. I wanted her to stay at home and rest this morning, but she would come with us; she longed so much to see you all!”
Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen (emphasis mine)
Mrs. Palmer laughed, and said it would not do her any harm.
“She expects to be confined in February,” continued Mrs. Jennings.
Lady Middleton could no longer endure such a conversation, and therefore exerted herself to ask Mr. Palmer if there was any news in the paper.
In attempt to shed some light on these topics, the following is an overview of each, along with a few resources that go into greater detail. As always, I heartily encourage our well-read JAW readers to comment with other resources that can help provide more information on these “privy” matters (pun intended).
Bodily Functions
At home, chamber pots were frequently used and kept under the bed, out of sight, and emptied and cleaned by a servant. A privy or outhouse was outside the home, away from the house. Many times, flowers were planted near the outhouse to help cover the odor. For an in-depth history of Regency plumbing, you can read this wonderful article from The Jane Austen Centre on The Development of Regency Plumbing.
But what about when a lady was traveling or at a ball? As some of you may already know, a fully dressed lady could (carefully) relieve herself using a small chamber pot called a bourdaloue (or bourdalou) without soiling her skirts. Her maid would stand nearby to help and/or receive the pot and empty it. (Note: Men were known to relieve themselves behind a screen into a chamber pot in the dining room.) For more on this strangely intriguing topic, you can read Vic’s engaging article, Regency Hygiene: The Bourdaloue.
Feminine hygiene and sanitary items
And what, pray tell, did a lady to do when menstruating? In her article “On ‘Flowers’: A short but frank post on how 18thC women dealt with menstruation,” Lucy Inglis has several interesting tidbits to share: Early sanitary pads were used by women in Georgian England, made from a variety of materials. “Women troubled by particularly heavy periods wrapped a belt or bandage about their hips and wore a baby’s muslin napkin looped over the front and back, with stitched ‘sanitary pads’ lining this loincloth. These pads could be boiled and reused…”
As for tampons, this was surprisingly not unheard of. Early handbooks discuss “‘suppositories’ for the ‘privy place’ made from a smoothed stick, wrapped in absorbent linen rags and securely stitched. A long cord was sewn in. Some disposable; some boiled and reused” (Inglis). For menstrual cramps and other issues, herbal remedies were often used. For more on this topic and others like it, check out Inglis’ book Georgian London: Into the Streets.
Pregnancy and childbirth
During the Regency era, childbirth was still one of the most dangerous threats to a woman’s health and life. Up to 20% of all women died either in childbirth, or immediately following birth, most often due to infection. (Many accounts place the infant mortality rate at about the same level.) The practice of washing hands, disinfecting instruments, and providing clean linens and ventilation in birthing chambers did not become common until about the 1840s, which then lowered the mortality rate from 18% to about 6% (Jane Austen Centre). To read an in-depth discussion of birth, birthing rooms, and advances in obstetrics, read here: “Developements in Childbirth in Regency and Victorian England: Childbirth and Lying-In during the Regency” by Kathleen Charon.
Some of the issues that plagued new mothers and babies were due to limited medical practices and a lack of simple hygiene, but there were other factors at play as well. For instance, instead of having women move, walk, and get a breath fresh air, a “lying-in” or “confinement” period was observed before, during, and even after giving birth.
During the birth, a midwife would likely be in attendance; in some instances, a doctor might come. The birthing room was heated and enclosed so that women would not catch cold; however, the stifling rooms often caused a host of other issues, including an increase in infection. After giving birth, women were kept in bed, often given only weak tea and a liquid diet, instead of hearty, nourishing foods to help her heal and gain strength.
I have just received a note from James to say that Mary was brought to bed last night, at eleven o’clock, of a fine little boy, and that everything is going on very well. My mother had desired to know nothing of it before it should be all over, and we were clever enough to prevent her having any suspicion of it…
Jane Austen’s Letters, Godmersham Park, 17 November 1798.
Indeed, life for women in Jane Austen’s Regency England, even as part of the upper classes, was uncomfortable, difficult, and dangerous. When I think of my own birth, and the births of my two children, by caesarean section, with the help modern medicine, I stand amazed at the bravery of the women who came before me. To say I’m thankful for the miraculous advances in medicine and obstetrics today would be an understatement.
This, I’m sure, is only the tip of the iceberg with these topics. If you have other resources to share, such as books, articles, podcasts, or talks, please include them in the comments! Next month, check back for my upcoming article, Regency Women: Pin Money and Private Expenses.
RACHEL DODGE teaches college English classes, gives talks at libraries, teas, and book clubs, and writes for Jane Austen’s World blog and Jane Austen’s Regency World magazine. She is the bestselling author of The Anne of Green Gables Devotional: A Chapter-By-Chapter Companion for Kindred Spirits and Praying with Jane: 31 Days Through the Prayers of Jane Austen. Her newest book The Little Women Devotional is now available for pre-order and releases December 2021. You can visit Rachel online at www.RachelDodge.com.
Jane Austen's World 
But how do we reconcile the use of a chamber pot or the outside ‘necessary house’ with the refinement of manners in the drawing room? There is, with our modern sensibilities, an immediate recoiling from the conjunction.
But be the sensibilities modern or Georgian, the plumbing sophisticated or absent, I suspect that the imperative of bodily functions has remained a potential social embarrassment; our regency forbears would also have recoiled.
There is an evolutionary instinct that prompts us, in answering the call of nature, to seek privacy to avoid physical vulnerability and the hazards of pathogens and this instinct becomes codified in manners that are accepted by the tribe (society).
The regency population were inevitably obliged to confront these concerns more directly than we, but would nevertheless I believe, have had the same understanding about the exclusion of such matters from polite conversation. There must have been a corresponding understanding between servants and served about the degree of notice (if any) between them of bodily functions.
Extract from Ch.15 ‘Jane’s Chamber Pot’ of ‘Jane Austen: The Missing Pieces’ by Harvey T. Dearden. Available from Amazon.
(See book review on this blog using ‘search’)
When in Bath and looking around as a tourist it’s amazing to think that Roman ideas of hygiene were ignored during Jane’s time there.
My great grandmother, born in the 1880s, told me in the 1960s that when she was young, they used cloths for periods, which they had to boil in order to clean them for re-use. It sounded as if she and other young women had to do this themselves. (No servants around to do this rather yucky chore.)
It sounds as if not much had changed since Jane Austen’s day.
A Hungarian doctor, Ignaz Semmelweis, who worked at a Vienna hospital, realized that puerperal fever after childbirth was killing women. His fellow physicians were outraged as the “insult” and viciously attacked him and his medical credibility. He died in a mental hospital.
There are several YouTube videos
5000 years of period protection history
History of menstruation- history teatime. Lindsay holiday
Also by her
History of childbirth and conception
Book
Publ. Palgrave USA menstruation a cultural history.
My mother, who passed away at 95, told me of having very little in the way of menstrual supplies in the 1930s and that she had been told absolutely nothing of the upcoming event. She thought she was bleeding to death at first and screamed for help. Then she was reassured by her mother and older sister, given a pad and belt, and told she was becoming an adult. She promptly went out and told her thirteen-year-old male cousin all about it in the belief that he would be getting one too and was just a little late. I wonder how many women’s experiences were just like that over time. Certainly, one might think that would happen in the nineteenth century. Possibly even earlier, what a ridiculous lack of information!
My mother was born in 1946 and didn’t know anything about menstruation. She told me she was outside and she just suddenly started to bleed “down there”. She also thought she was bleeding to death and ran home for help. But, then again, my mother also thought she could get pregnant just by kissing a man…which is why she got pregnant with me on her honeymoon.
As ever, fascinating. From the Gravel Walk (Bath) one can see the toilet plumbing on the back of the grand terrace houses facing Brock Street and the Circus. It seems that it all emptied into the garden below.
Being a bloke I don’t feel that I have much to input on this article which of course is very interesting. I was at the birth of all four of mine, nearly got my neck broken during the birth of Alice our second and laughed out loud when Abigail our fourth was born. My wife on the other hand… well I don’t think I can really comment as I said before. Its not my place.I don’t know anything really. I was inspired to comment however because of the photograph of the, “Ladies Bourdaloue.”Do they look like gravy boats to you or is it just me?
I shared this article a bit ago, https://www.baltimoresun.com/news/bs-xpm-1994-11-20-1994324193-story.html but I can’t find the original post. Since there’s a paywall, I’ll share this part of the section from the article:
Elizabeth Patterson Bonaparte (1785-1879) was for a brief time the wife of Jerome Bonaparte, Napoleon Bonaparte’s baby brother.
The Baltimore-born daughter of a millionaire, she was as fastidious about her health and hygiene as she was flamboyant about her dress. (Her cleavage-baring gowns were the subject of many whispers.)
Her diaries and purchase records show she made her own makeup, cold cream and eau de toilette. Remedial recipes flank her account books, showing mustard oil as her choice cure for rheumatism, tartaric acid for corns. She restored her hair with lead sulfur, castor oil and “spirits of wine,” and her nerves with a homemade sedative of liquid ammonia, camphorated alcohol and brine.
To enhance her comfort on treks between Maryland and Europe, she toted a portable bidet for personal hygiene. Crafted from mahogany in neoclassical, Louis XVI style, it had a silver basin inscribed by Napoleon’s personal silversmith.
She also had a bourdaloue, which ladies of the day took along on long carriage rides. Hers was made in about 1805 of Paris porcelain. Its lines are very graceful, which explains why early museum curators didn’t recognize it as a take-along chamber pot.
“At one point, after coming to the historical society, the bourdaloue served as a sauce boat in a period dining room, until it was suggested that its function hardly was appropriate for the dinner table,” wrote J. Jefferson Miller, former director of the society and an authority on porcelain.
Many of Betsy Bonaparte’s belongings, including the bidet and bourdaloue, were given to the museum by the widow of prominent lawyer Charles Joseph Bonaparte in 1921. He was Betsy Bonaparte’s grandson.
I’ve often wondered, on long road trips, did they just go in front of everyone in the carriage or did the carriage stop, everyone got off and then they did their business. Having a bourdalou along suggests it could be done either way. Even if they were outside, being able to stand to urinate would be easier with all the trappings of their dresses.
I think they just went in the carriage and dumped it out the door or window.
They look like gravy boats.
Yes. They do look like gravy boats (without the pouring spout).
gerardcharleswilson ah no. The down pipes on the backs of the terraces in Bath lead to a fully functioning modern sewerage system. In the 18th century water supply was by way of wells and pumps in the backyard of each house. Poorer people might have shared a street pump. As for urinating and defecation, chamber pots in each bedroom were used. The chamber pots would have been emptied every day into a cess pit, probably in the back yard.Daily a soil collection cart would have emptied each cess pit. Some of it would have been used as manure on farmers fields but most was poured into local rivers. The Thames for instance became an open sewer during the late Georgian and early Victorian period. Then the Victorians got work and the rest is history!! Ha! Ha! Those Victorians were geniuses.
On a trip in Israel, our guide would say, “Coffee in, coffee out,” when we made pit stops. It has always stuck with me. So, I would think many a young lady would decline beverages at balls, with the thought they might not have to use the pots. Not sure with all the tea drinking and visiting…Maybe you learned to hold it until you got home.
A friend was working on her Master’s in Public Health and was able to take a trip to a museum on menstruation near D.C. I don’t know if it’s still around. She felt the guy running it was a bit creepy.
It appears to now be closed. https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/a-period-comes-to-an-end-100-years-of-menstruation-products/2016/04/25/1afe3898-057e-11e6-bdcb-0133da18418d_story.html
But, Amsterdam has one. And, apparently, the Smithsonian has objects in the Medical and Science collections: https://www.si.edu/spotlight/health-hygiene-and-beauty/feminine-hygiene-products
Denise
Thank you for things I’ve always wanted to know.