Excerpts from
"Contest and Consent: A Legal History of Marital Rape"
by Jill Elaine Hasday. Footnotes
listed on separate page.
Copyright (c) 2000 California Law Review California Law Review
California Law Review
October, 2000
88 Calif. L. Rev. 1373
Introduction
At common law, husbands were exempt from
prosecution for raping their wives. Over the past quarter century, this
law has been modified somewhat, but not entirely. A majority of states
still retain some form of the common law regime: They criminalize a
narrower range of offenses if committed within marriage,
n1 subject the marital rape they do
recognize to less serious sanctions, n2 and/or create special procedural
hurdles for marital rape prosecutions. n3 The current state of the law
represents a confusing mix of victory and defeat for the exemption's
contemporary feminist critics. Virtually every state legislature has
revisited the marital rape exemption over the last twenty-five years, but
most have chosen to preserve the exemption in some substantial
manifestation. With rare exception, moreover, courts have not invalidated
state laws protecting marital rape. n4 Political protest and legislative
action, rather than any clear judicial [*1376] statement of
constitutional norms, has driven the partial and uneven modification of
the common law rule.
If the modern opponents and defenders of the
marital rape exemption agree on any question, it is that their dispute is
a new one. The contemporary debate over the exemption operates on the
assumption that the law's treatment of marital rape first became
controversial in the late twentieth century. Supporters of the exemption
frequently assert that women never saw the need to challenge a husband's
conjugal rights until approximately twenty-five years ago. The drafters of
the American Law Institute's Model Penal Code, who offer the most
sophisticated contemporary defense of the exemption, explain that the
rule--"so long an accepted feature of the law of rape"--has only "recently
come under attack." n5 Judges similarly note that "until 1977 there was no
serious challenge to the spousal exemption," n6 or observe that "until the
late 1970's there was no real examination of" the subject whatsoever. n7
Prominent modern feminists, in turn, identify themselves as part of the
first organized political opposition to marital rape, "a reality about
which little systematic was known before 1970." n8 To the extent that
participants on either side of the debate consider historical questions at
all, they generally content themselves with a brief citation to Sir
Matthew Hale, who wrote the most influential treatise defending the
marital rape exemption at common law. n9
[*1377] This consensual account of the history of marital rape is
founded on a massive historical erasure. As Parts I through IV of this
Article reveal, a husband's conjugal rights became the focus of public
controversy almost immediately after the first organized woman's rights
movement coalesced in 1848. n10 Over the course of the next half century,
feminists waged a vigorous, public, and extraordinarily frank campaign
against a man's right to forced sex in marriage. This nineteenth-century
debate over marital rape constitutes a powerful historical record that
deserves to be examined in its own right. It also provides a useful
framework from which to assess and understand the course of the modern
debate over the exemption.
Public discussion and legal decision making
about marital rape have proceeded without knowledge of this historical
struggle. To some extent, this is because existing historical scholarship
has not assimilated into the popular or legal consciousness. But the work
that historians of the nineteenth century have done on the feminist call
for sexual self-possession in marriage also remains very incomplete. The
leading historical accounts do not analyze the feminist effort as a legal
protest and a legal demand, made in an attempt to unseat a deeply rooted
common law prerogative and denied. Instead, they discuss the feminist
argument for a woman's control over her husband's sexual access as a
chapter in the history of birth control n11 or a moral campaign to
rationalize sexual desire. n12 This Article also [*1378] reveals
nineteenth-century feminism's garrulousness about the supposedly
unspeakable. Scholars have frequently assumed that marital rape was a
private concern that nineteenth-century feminists feared discussing in any
public or systematic way. n13 But the historical record makes clear that
these advocates not only publicly demanded the right to sexual
self-possession [*1379] in marriage, they pressed the issue constantly,
at length, and in plain language.
Excavating the nineteenth-century contest over
the law's treatment of marital rape restores a significant chapter in the
history of the first woman's rights movement in the United States,
offering a new perspective on the commitments and effectiveness of that
movement. Historians have often characterized the first woman's rights
movement as narrowly intent on securing gender-neutral rights of access to
the public sphere, n14 with suffrage defined as the movement's overriding
and most radical goal. n15 Yet leading nineteenth-century feminists
argued--in public, vociferously, and systematically--that economic and
political equality, including even the vote, would prove hollow, if women
did not win the right to set the terms of marital intercourse. Indeed,
feminists explained a woman's lack of control over her person as the key
foundation of her subordination. This claim was acutely gender-specific,
grounded in the argument that women needed to control the terms of marital
intercourse in order to regulate the portion of their lives they would
have to devote to raising children. Convinced that women's subordination
was ultimately rooted in the structure of marital relations, feminists
demanded both the right to refuse and viable socioeconomic alternatives to
submission.
This agenda, admittedly radical, was neither
dismissed nor ignored in the latter half of the nineteenth century,
although it never fully transformed customary norms. The popular
prescriptive (advice and instructional) literature on marriage contains
strong evidence that the feminist critique of marital rape resonated with
evolving societal understandings of desirable marital conduct. Very soon
after nineteenth-century feminists began speaking about a wife's right to
her own person, mainstream prescriptive authors began to offer extended
analyses of the harm that marital rape inflicted. This prescriptive
literature, however, did not challenge a husband's legal right to control
marital intercourse. It marshaled, instead, an array of moral,
physiological, and strategic arguments designed to convince husbands to
voluntarily cede discretion over sex to their wives, promising that the
concession would serve the interests of husbands as well as wives. In the
hands of the popular prescriptive literature, the feminist demand for
enforceable rights to protect women from subordination to their husbands
was recast into a series of suggested strategies for marital mutuality, to
be pursued in a husband's interest as he saw fit.
Ultimately, the law of marital rape changed only
incrementally in the nineteenth century, and only in the context of
divorce. As an episode of law reform, the course of the nineteenth-century
feminist campaign against marital rape illuminates a deep cultural
resistance to altering this [*1380] aspect of the law, at a time when
other aspects of married women's legal status were beginning to evolve.
States willing to augment the property rights of married women in the
middle of the nineteenth century, n16 or to ratify woman suffrage in the
early twentieth century, n17 were emphatically unwilling to subject
husbands to prosecution for marital rape. At least in this arena where
sexual and reproductive relations were so directly implicated,
authoritative legal sources proved staunchly opposed to the notion of
incorporating into the law a vision of marriage as a potentially
disharmonious, abusive, even dangerous site of human interaction, in which
wives might need and deserve legal rights against their husbands.
The progress of this nineteenth-century debate
on marital rape sheds new light on the modern contest over the exemption
and helps explain its trajectory. As Part V discusses, one of the most
striking aspects of the modern defense of the marital rape exemption--not
generally remarked on as such by modern commentators but clear in the
light of history--is that it assumes the aligned interests of husband and
wife. The exemption's contemporary defenders argue that the rule's
continued existence protects marital privacy and promotes marital harmony
and reconciliation, leaving both husband and wife better off. In fact,
they go farther than that. In the vision of the modern defense of the
marital rape exemption, the assumption of aligned interests between
husband and wife is so strong that proponents do not acknowledge that a
marital rape exemption might cause wives harm. The argument assumes that a
wife's interests, like her husband's, are fully and consistently served in
a marital relationship shielded from the possibility of criminal
prosecution for rape.
This line of reasoning has proven extremely
successful, despite contemporary feminist efforts to analyze the exemption
as an instrument of women's legal subordination. To be sure, the marital
rape exemption has undergone more adjustment in the late twentieth century
than in the nineteenth. The only change in the law's treatment of marital
rape that nineteenth-century feminists lived to see consisted of marginal
alterations in the terms on which divorce was available. Over the past
quarter century, in contrast, a minority of states have eliminated the
exemption and the rest have reduced its scope. But the marital rape
exemption still survives in considerable measure in most states, at a time
when the repudiation of women's legal subordination that was just
beginning in the middle of the nineteenth century has been virtually
completed as at least a formal matter. Twentieth-century feminists, like
the nineteenth-century woman's rights movement, have had an impact on the
law of marital rape, but one that falls far short of their aspirations or
their level of success in other legal contexts.
[*1381] In part, the dominant consensual vision
of the history of marital rape helps explain why this modern argument from
aligned interests has been so powerful. When one starts with the
assumption that women have long accepted the marital rape exemption
without protest, the proposition that the exemption continues to operate
to the mutual benefit of husbands and wives is more likely to seem
plausible and even intuitively convincing. That position might be more
difficult to sustain in light of a history of feminist argument and
advocacy describing a husband's conjugal rights as a crucial constitutive
element of women's oppression.
Yet it would be farfetched to suppose that the
current legislative commitment to maintaining the marital rape exemption
in substantial form, and the judicial decision not to intervene through
equal protection doctrine, would suddenly dissipate if the record of
struggle over marital rape were widely known. If the history of the
nineteenth-century campaign against marital rape suggests anything, it is
that the societal reluctance to acknowledge the possibility of
antagonistic interests and hurtful behavior in marriage through the
granting of legal rights to women is long-established, deeply embedded,
and highly resistant to feminist challenge, particularly where questions
of marital intercourse are at stake. On this view, it is hardly surprising
that modern defenders of the exemption have been so inclined to assume and
assert that the historical survival of a husband's conjugal privileges was
uncontested; we have a tremendous cultural need to understand marital
relations as consensual and harmonious, notwithstanding the contrary
evidence we confront about the nature of some unions. The modern defense
of the marital rape exemption is one of the most obvious, if odd,
manifestations of that phenomenon. Never do we hear more about the joys of
marital love, trust, and intimacy in a contemporary legal context than
when courts, lawmakers, and commentators justify the preservation of a
husband's legal right to rape his wife.
There is a highly relevant difference between
the environment in which the first organized woman's rights movement
campaigned against marital rape and present social and legal conditions,
however, which suggests that the future course of the modern campaign
against marital rape need not run parallel to that of its
nineteenth-century predecessor. In the nineteenth century, the harm that a
husband's right to marital rape inflicted upon wives was freely and
explicitly acknowledged as a social matter. In an era still committed to a
wide variety of legal structures subordinating women to men, that
acknowledgment was not enough to convince mainstream writers or
authoritative legal sources that the creation of legal rights protecting
women against their husbands was an appropriate remedy. The modern defense
of the marital rape exemption, in contrast, obscures and denies the harm
that the rule inflicts upon women. This has been a crucial tactic because
the injury that marital rape causes is far [*1382] harder to defend, and
the absence of legal remediation far harder to justify, in a nation now
explicitly committed to women's legal equality. The historical record of
struggle over marital rape helps reveal this harm, making concrete what
the marital rape exemption's contemporary champions have concealed. In the
process, this history provides a foundation upon which the modern feminist
campaign against marital rape can build.
I The Marital Rape Exemption as it was Articulated, Understood, and
Defended in the Nineteenth Century
The notion that a husband's conjugal rights were not contested until the
late twentieth century accords with a common mode of thinking about
women's legal status. This consensual account of the history of marital
rape does not draw on any factual record, and it would find no comfort
there. As this Article demonstrates, a husband's conjugal rights generated
profound controversy in the latter half of the nineteenth century,
virtually from the moment that the first feminist movement was organized.
The account operates, instead, on a presumption: that longstanding aspects
of women's legal status must have survived to the modern age because they
embody a set of shared norms, long agreed to by women and men alike.
The premise that women's legal status is the product of consensual
agreement is prominent even in many historical examinations of the first
woman's rights movement. This line of scholarship acknowledges, of course,
that nineteenth-century feminists campaigned to overturn laws
subordinating women to men. But it depicts the feminist protest as limited
in scope, and ultimately successful in convincing legislatures to reform
the law wherever feminists pushed forcefully for change. These narratives
of the nineteenth-century woman's rights movement stress the passage of
the married women's property acts in a number of state legislatures,
starting in the 1840s. At common law, married women had little, or no,
right to contract, own property, or sue. n18 Some of the first married
women's property acts modified this common law regime by codifying court
decisions that permitted married women to hold their own property in
equitable trusts and by protecting a wife's real property from her
[*1383] husband's debts. n19 Later statutes, enacted from the 1850s
onwards, granted wives the right to keep their own earnings. n20 All of
this legislation, however, focused on questions of property distribution
between husbands and wives that were of immediate practical concern to
relatively few women: Only a small subset of wives in the nineteenth
century either owned real property or worked outside the home. n21 A
number of historians nonetheless describe the married women's property
acts as satisfying feminists' demands for the reform of marital status
law. n22 In this vision, the passage of the married women's property acts
left suffrage as the most important, controversial, and far-reaching claim
of the woman's rights [*1384] movement. Suffrage became, these
historians report, "the capstone of women's emancipation." n23
"Nineteenth-century feminists and anti-feminists alike perceived the
demand for the vote as the most radical element in women's protest against
their oppression;" n24 feminists were willing to "bypass[ ] women's
oppression within the family." n25 This account explains the history of
women's legal status in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as a
story of steady liberalization and, ultimately, of consensualism. It
suggests that the demands of the first feminist movement were all
accommodated in turn, with the movement's agenda completed by the
ratification of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920. n26 On this view,
feminists never seriously challenged what remained unchanged--every aspect
of the law of marriage that the married women's property acts did not
reach. n27
[*1385] The history of the struggle over marital rape complicates this
picture. n28 It reveals that the legal demands of the nineteenth-century
feminist movement were not limited to suffrage and the marginal property
reforms at stake in the married women's property acts. The first organized
woman's rights movement offered a much more systematic critique of women's
legal status in marriage. Indeed, feminists repeatedly identified a
woman's right to control the terms of marital intercourse as the predicate
condition for women's equality, without which full property rights and
even suffrage would be meaningless. Nevertheless, the law's treatment of
marital rape hardly changed over the course of the nineteenth century, and
the modest reform that did occur was limited to divorce law. The history
of women's legal status in the nineteenth century did not follow just one
path, of gradual progress and consistent success. Lawmakers willing to
enact the married women's property acts or to ratify the Nineteenth
Amendment apparently thought there was too much at stake in changing the
marital rape exemption. The exemption's survival into the modern era is
not evidence that the rule was never contested. The rule was maintained
despite decades of feminist objection, because the exemption's defenders
were far more powerful than its critics.
2. The Law of Marriage in the Nineteenth Century
To appreciate what the defenders of the marital rape exemption understood
to be at issue requires a brief introduction to the law of marriage in the
nineteenth century. The frequent identification of the married women's
property acts as the culmination of the feminist campaign for the legal
reform of marriage might suggest-- wrongly--that the law of marriage was
somehow equalized in the middle of the nineteenth century. That was hardly
the case. The marital rape exemption was explained and [*1386] defended
amidst an elaborate legal regime that continued to explicitly subordinate
wives to husbands.
In the nineteenth century, authoritative legal sources agreed that the
rights and obligations of husbands and wives were most appropriately
understood, explained, and regulated through the organizing rubric of a
status/contract distinction. This distinction classified legal rules into
two oppositional categories: status rules (like the marital rape
exemption), which fixed marital rights and obligations in the law and made
them unalterable by private agreement, and contract rules, which permitted
husbands and wives, or couples contemplating marriage, to structure their
own legal relationship if they preferred not to rely on the default rules
set by the state. The marital relation was governed by both types of
rules, mainly at alternate parts of its life cycle.
By the first half of the nineteenth century, individuals had a large
measure of control over decisions about whether, when, how, and whom to
marry. Nineteenth-century treatises stressed, for instance, that parental
consent was not a legal prerequisite to marriage in the United States. n29
Most states also held that valid marriage ceremonies did not need to take
any particular form. n30 Indeed, over the course of the nineteenth
century, a majority of American jurisdictions recognized the legal
validity of common law marriages, where the couple had not necessarily
participated in a ceremony of any sort. n31
Status rules were much more consequential and prominent in controlling
ongoing marital relationships. A couple could choose whether to marry, but
could rarely modify the legal nature of their union. The legal terms
regulating married couples in the nineteenth century differed from
contracts in multiple respects. First, and by definition, the status rules
governing marriage provided that it was legally impossible for a husband
and wife to circumvent their requirements by mutual decision. n32 These
[*1387] rules did not depend on securing actual consent from any
particular couple; rather, they conclusively inferred consent, as a matter
of law, from the couple's initial agreement to marry. n33 Legal writers
like Joel Bishop, author of one of the most influential family law
treatises of the nineteenth century, explained that the marital relation,
as the foundational unit of society, was too important to be left to the
vagaries of individual will. "The idea, that any government could,
consistently with the general weal, permit this institution to become
merely [a] matter of bargain between men and women, and not regulate it by
its own power, is," he scoffed, "too absurd to require a word of
refutation." n34
The marital relation in nineteenth-century law also diverged from a
bilateral contract in its tremendous restrictions on the possibility of
exit. A husband and wife could not simply agree to end their relationship.
Marriages terminated at the death of one party or at divorce, which was
only available for fault (most notably, cruelty, desertion, or adultery),
and difficult to obtain even then. n35 If a husband or wife became
incapable-- [*1388] after marrying-- of performing an obligation of the
marital relationship (through impotence or insanity, for example), this
incapacity did not free the other spouse from marital obligations and did
not constitute ground for marital dissolution. n36 The availability of
remedies other than exit was extremely limited as well. If one spouse
willfully refused to perform marital obligations, the common law did not
permit the other to sue for enforcement or damages. n37 Suits between
husband and wife for torts like assault and false imprisonment were also
prohibited. n38
This structural account of status in the nineteenth-century marital
relation only provides a partial picture, however. The rights and
obligations of husband and wife also depended enormously, of course, on
the [*1389] substance of these status rules. In the nineteenth century,
many of these rules operated along common law principles of coverture,
which explicitly subordinated wives to husbands. William Blackstone, whose
treatise on the laws of England was extremely influential throughout the
United States, offered the classic definition. "By marriage," he wrote,
the husband and wife are one person in law: that is, the very being or
legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least
is incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband: under whose
wing, protection, and cover, she performs every thing ....... Upon this
principle, of an union of person in husband and wife, depend almost all
the legal rights, duties, and disabilities, that either of them acquire by
the marriage. n39
Coverture united husband and wife by subsuming a married woman's civil
identity and according husbands wide-ranging control over their wives.
Legal scholars explained the principle in the language of hierarchical
authority and obedience. As James Schouler's family law treatise
elaborated, "the laws of nature and divine revelation" jointly designated
the husband as "the head of the family." n40 "It [was] for the wife to
love, honor, and obey; it [was] for the husband to love, cherish, and
protect." n41
The implications of this understanding of the legal relationship between
husband and wife can be found throughout nineteenth-century jurisprudence.
Most notably for present purposes, a husband enjoyed substantial rights to
his wife's person. n42 The common law gave husbands the authority to
chastise, or correct, their wives, as long as the corporal punishment did
not cause permanent injury. n43 Courts and commentators had [*1390]
formally renounced this right by the latter half of the nineteenth
century. n44 But legal authorities continued, nonetheless, to treat wife
beating more favorably than other instances of assault and battery and
remained extremely reluctant to enforce criminal or civil penalties for
marital violence. n45 A husband could also, with only modest limitations,
legally restrict his wife's movements in the nineteenth century--could
conclusively determine where the couple would live, n46 could physically
restrain his wife [*1391] to prevent her from leaving that household,
n47 and could retrieve her if she did stray, particularly if she had left
to go to another man. n48 In recognition of the legal control that
husbands exercised over their wives, common law courts in the nineteenth
century presumed that married women acted under the coercion of their
husbands and accordingly excused them from liability for a wide range of
crimes if committed in their husbands' [*1392] presence. This
presumption excluded only the most serious offenses, like treason, murder,
and robbery, and crimes understood to be the particular province of women,
like keeping a brothel. n49
The marital rape exemption had deep roots in this legal regime. It was
understood, explained, and defended in the context of a wide array of
marital status rules that conclusively inferred consent from a person's
initial agreement to marry and coverture principles that organized marital
status so that husbands exercised control over their wives.
B. The Marital Rape Exemption in Nineteenth-Century Criminal Law
There was not the slightest suggestion in nineteenth-century case law and
treatises that a husband could be prosecuted for raping his wife. Rape
laws stated what a ""male person'" could not do to ""any woman, other than
his wife.'" n50 Legal writers took pains to emphasize that "[a] man cannot
be guilty of a rape upon his own wife," n51 that "a husband does not
become guilty of rape by forcing his wife to his own embraces," n52 that
rape "may be committed by any male of the age of fourteen or over, not the
husband of the female." n53 This clear prohibition on prosecution had its
intended effect. I have been able to locate no nineteenth-century attempts
to [*1393] try a husband for personally raping his wife, n54 and only
one prosecution, Frazier v. State, n55 from early in the twentieth
century. n56 The Texas court that heard Mr. Frazier's appeal in 1905
reversed his conviction for assault with attempt to rape, which is not
surprising. n57 The unexplained--and unique--puzzle of the Frazier case is
how it reached a trial court and a jury in the first place.
The history of marital rape necessarily contains large silences because of
this absence of prosecution. Cases left uninvestigated and unbrought are
much harder to reconstruct than the concrete proceedings of trials and
appeals. As a consequence, the record of the marital rape exemption has,
on occasion, bizarre locations. This section examines laws, legal
treatises, and cases, but none of these sources were responding to,
commenting on, or deciding actual marital rape suits; they addressed the
exemption in some other, less direct way. A large proportion of the
nineteenth-century judicial opinions that discussed the marital rape
exemption, for instance, revolved around the question of whether a rape
indictment, in a case with no evidence of a marital relationship between
victim and defendant, still had to state that the victim and defendant
were not married to each other. Some nineteenth-century courts actually
[*1394] reversed rape convictions because the indictment had failed to
explicitly indicate that the victim was not the defendant's wife. n58
[*1395] The notable contrast between wives' categorical exemption from
rape statutes and the protection against rape (nominally) accorded to
other highly vulnerable classes of women also helps illustrate the
exemption's deep roots in nineteenth-century law. It was a
well-established proposition in nineteenth-century treatises that
prostitutes and concubines fell within the purview of rape statutes, even
if actual conviction was unlikely since the defendant could present
evidence of the victim's occupation to the jury. n59 Legal writers
explained that the concern of rape laws centered, not on the status of the
victim, but on the fact that the act in question was "against the will of
the female on whom it is committed." n60 On this theory, prostitutes and
concubines were fully covered by rape laws; n61 a man accused of raping a
prostitute or concubine could offer reputational evidence against his
alleged victim only because such evidence was understood to speak to the
likelihood that the woman had in fact consented. n62 Yet [*1396]
nineteenth-century case law and treatises never indicated that analogous
reasoning might suggest that husbands should be criminally liable for
raping their wives. To the contrary, leading treatises reviewed the
contrasting rights of prostitutes and wives side-by-side without any
apparent qualms, noting, for example, that rape "may be committed as well
on a common prostitute, as on any other female. But a husband does not
become guilty of rape by forcing his wife to his own embraces." n63
The reasons cited to explain and justify the exemption in
nineteenth-century authoritative legal sources originated in the work of
Sir Matthew Hale, a former Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench in
England. Hale's seminal treatise, the History of the Pleas of the Crown,
n64 was first published in England in 1736 and became extraordinarily
influential in American legal circles almost immediately thereafter. n65
Even more than a century after Hale's work appeared, American treatises
and case law had not supplemented Hale's arguments for the marital rape
exemption with alternate theories of their own.
As an initial matter, this reliance on Hale suggests how secure
nineteenth-century legal authorities took the criminal exemption to be.
Indeed, one of the most striking aspects of the nineteenth-century
"debate" over marital rape is how little debate there actually was in
terms of direct exchange between the exemption's legal champions and its
critics. Although, as we will see, some late nineteenth-century courts did
modify the [*1397] law's treatment of marital rape as it affected the
terms on which divorce was available, n66 lawyers and judges saw no need
to respond to opposing arguments in the criminal arena--the core of the
exemption, rather than its peripheries. In these sources, the criminal
exemption remained a given. Treatise writers and judges saw no threat
meriting a rethinking of the claims on which they had relied for over a
hundred years.
Another explanation for this reliance on Hale, though, one equally
important to understand, is that these sources depended on Hale so heavily
because his arguments, grounded in principles of marital status law and
common law coverture, still seemed so convincing to them. In the
nineteenth century, American judges and lawyers who confronted the marital
rape exemption routinely cited Hale's argument from irretractible consent.
Hale's explication read, in full, as follows: "But the husband cannot be
guilty of a rape committed by himself upon his lawful wife, for by their
mutual matrimonial consent and contract the wife hath given up herself in
this kind unto her husband, which she cannot retract." n67 The statement
included no supporting citations, and this appears not to have been an
oversight. Even scholars who believe that ample common law authority
already sanctioned the marital rape exemption when Hale wrote, n68 posit
that the theory of irretractible consent originated with him. n69
[*1398] Yet treatises and cases would repeat Hale's words, virtually
verbatim, throughout the nineteenth century, often as the only explanation
they offered for the exemption: "A man cannot be guilty of a rape upon his
own wife; for the matrimonial consent cannot be retracted," they noted.
n70 "The husband of a woman cannot himself be guilty of an actual rape
upon his wife, on account of the matrimonial consent which she has given,
and which she cannot retract." n71 Several aspects of Hale's theory
suggest why it proved so compelling.
Hale's understanding of presumed legal consent made enormous sense in the
framework of nineteenth-century marital status law. As we have seen, all
of these status rules operated automatically, subjecting every husband and
every wife to predetermined constraints without permitting individual
negotiation or waiting for individual consent. These status rules,
moreover, remained in place as long as the marital relation itself:
Opting-out was impossible while one's marriage lasted (and the prospects
for securing a divorce were very limited). Whether a husband or wife
actually supported these rules, or would have liked to contract around
them, was irrelevant as a matter of law. The only occasion for actual
agreement was a person's decision to marry in the first place. Hale's
theory applied this same understanding of legal consent to one of the many
status rules that organized the marital relation at common law, namely,
the rape exemption. His work explained that, in this context as [*1399]
elsewhere, a married person's original agreement to marry justified a
legal presumption of permanent and irretractible consent to marital status
law.
It was, accordingly, important that Hale's consent theory, and the marital
rape exemption, did not cover forced marriages, where the wife had been
unlawfully compelled to wed. Hale himself explicitly carved out an
exception for these women, noting that their putative husbands could be
prosecuted for raping them. n72 Nineteenth-century treatises, in turn,
adopted the point. As Thomas Waterman explained in 1853, the agreement to
marry was "in reality nothing more, nor less, than a contract between two
parties." Because "a contract implied mutual consent, there [could], of
course, be no contract, when either party withheld consent, or when
consent [was] extorted by duress." The victim of a forced marriage had
never freely agreed to marry, hence she was not legally married, hence her
consent to the operation of marital status law could not be presumed. n73
I want to stress, however, that Hale's theory generally did not concern
itself with a wife's actual state of mind. To be sure, his explanation
depended on the proposition that a woman had actually agreed to her
marriage, under circumstances free from legally cognizable force, duress,
or fraud. But after a woman had made that decision, Hale's theory no
longer turned on what a woman actually wanted or would agree to if asked.
Consider Hale's last clause: "But the husband cannot be guilty of a rape
committed by himself upon his lawful wife, for by their mutual matrimonial
consent and contract the wife hath given up herself in this kind unto her
husband, which she cannot retract." n74 This clause suggested that there
might be situations in which a married woman would want to retract her
consent to marital intercourse. Hale's statement, in other words,
acknowledged the potential divergence between a wife's actual state of
mind at any particular moment during a marriage, and the legal rule
conclusively inferring consent from her initial agreement to marry. More
precisely, it acknowledged this divergence and enforced the legal
presumption of consent. In doing so, it reconciled the theory behind the
[*1400] marital rape exemption with that explaining the legitimacy of
marital status law generally.
Hale's argument for the marital rape exemption also resonated deeply with
the coverture principles that shaped the content of most marital status
rules in the nineteenth century. His explanation started by noting the
"mutual matrimonial consent and contract" of husband and wife, evidenced
by their shared agreement to marry. n75 But it proceeded to outline only
the obligation that a wife owed her husband: "for by their mutual
matrimonial consent and contract the wife hath given up herself in this
kind unto her husband." n76 In other words, Hale presented a couple's
mutual decision to marry as grounds for subjecting wives and husbands to
very different obligations and rights. Both a wife and her husband agreed
to marry, but where this agreement gave the husband a right of sexual
access to his wife, it bestowed an obligation on the wife to submit. One
might think, as a purely theoretical matter, that this explicit sex-based
differentiation required justification. But in historical context, of
course, such an explanation could easily be understood as superfluous.
Hale's theory accorded with coverture principles that generally subjected
wives to a wide array of limitations and obligations that husbands did not
bear. This is not to say that the relationship between husband and wife
was not a reciprocal one at common law. It was; a wife had the right to
support and protection from her husband. n77 But while the marital
relationship was reciprocal, it was also explicitly hierarchical. Wives
were vastly more constrained; they surrendered many more legal rights by
marrying. The marital rape exemption, with its unequal demands on husband
and wife, was just one more example of coverture principles at work. And
the widespread commitment to the operative tenets of coverture was another
reason that Hale's irretractible consent theory struck authoritative legal
sources in the nineteenth century as so satisfactory.
When nineteenth-century cases and treatises considered the marital rape
exemption, they did not limit themselves to citing Hale's consent theory,
however. They often spent just as much time, or more, articulating what I
call a "third-party caveat" to the marital rape exemption, also derived
from Hale and also meant to legitimate a wife's subordination to her
husband. This caveat stated that the marital rape exemption was a personal
privilege. It only covered acts that a husband personally committed on his
wife; it did not reach cases in which a husband had allowed, or forced,
another man to rape his wife. Why were so many pages devoted to [*1401]
stating this limit on the marital rape exemption? The effort indicates,
first, what was and was not understood to be contestable. Cases and
treatises touching upon the marital rape exemption in the nineteenth
century would often cite Hale's irretractible consent theory, but would
generally do little else to confirm the existence and soundness of the ban
on prosecuting a husband for raping his wife. The lack of standard forms
of support, like case citations, in discussions of the marital rape
exemption indicated its status as an understood baseline. In contrast,
judges and lawyers clearly felt that they had to do more to explain and
justify the third-party caveat, perhaps because the caveat functioned to
limit a husband's control over his wife's person. Even though every case
and treatise that considered the issue endorsed the caveat, n78 the rule
had to be defended rather than just stated.
More fundamentally, though, the emphasis on the third-party caveat
reinforced the point that the marital rape exemption drew the line between
legal and illegal intercourse so that it depended solely on whether a
woman was married to her sexual partner, and not on her consent. In
nineteenth-century jurisprudence, all sex outside of marriage, whether
consensual or not, was illicit by definition and formally criminalized in
fornication and adultery statutes. n79 The marital rape exemption
reflected and extended this dichotomy by making marital intercourse legal
by definition. n80 The third-party caveat helped to further underscore
this demarcation by stressing that the marital rape exemption did not
cover any sex outside of marriage, even if accomplished at a husband's
command.
Structuring the legality of sex so that it turned exclusively on whether a
woman was married to her sexual partner was crucially important because it
obscured how the marital rape exemption made a wife's position resemble
that of a prostitute. The comparison, which nineteenth-century feminists
would press aggressively, n81 appears to have made the exemption's
defenders anxious as far back as Hale. Prostitutes were generally thought
to be socially degraded in ways that wives were not. But no overwhelming
logic presented itself in this context to explain the [*1402] difference
in the work performed. After all, a husband had a duty to support his wife
at common law, n82 and the exemption gave him a legal right to take sex in
return. If a wife had extramarital relations (against her husband's
wishes), the common law permitted the husband to collect civil damages
from the other man, financially compensating him for "the invasion of his
exclusive right to marital intercourse with his wife." n83
Rather than attempt to substantively distinguish the terms on which wives
and prostitutes provided sexual services, authoritative legal sources,
with the help of the third-party caveat, separated the two sets of women
by reference to whether or not they were married to the men who had sex
with them. Consider Hale's explanation of the caveat:
A. the husband of B. intends to prostitute her to a rape by C. against her
will, and C. accordingly doth ravish her, A. being present, and assisting
to this rape ..... [T&rb>his was a rape in C. notwithstanding the husband
assisted in it, for tho in marriage she hath given up her body to her
husband, she is not to be by him prostituted to another. ..... [T&rb>he
husband being present, aiding and assisting, is also guilty as a principal
in rape, and therefore, altho the wife cannot have an appeal of rape
against her husband, yet he is indictable for it at the king's suit as a
principal. n84
In Hale's account, the difference between a wife and a prostitute is
explained solely as a matter of jurisdiction. Intercourse with one's
husband was the obligation of wives; it was part of what being a wife
signified. In contrast, adultery (forced or not) fell within the purview
of prostitutes. When a woman agreed to marry, she agreed to be a wife and,
accordingly, not a prostitute. All this meant in practical terms, though,
was that sex with one's husband (consensual or not) was licit and socially
sanctioned, and sex with a man other than one's husband (consensual or
not) was illicit and socially stigmatized. n85
[*1403] Nineteenth-century treatises and case law took care to note the
third-party caveat to the marital rape exemption, often citing Hale's
reasoning as an explanation. A husband could be found guilty of rape "as a
principal in the second degree," treatise writers observed, "by assisting
another person to commit a rape upon his wife; for though, in marriage,
the wife has given up her body to her husband, yet he cannot compel her to
prostitute herself to another." n86 Indeed, this caveat actually led to
trial judgments where husbands were found guilty of aiding in the rape of
their wives by other men. Consider two of the cases that reached a state
supreme court. n87 While there is no evidence to suggest that these cases
were representative of prosecutions under the third-party caveat, they are
instances in which a nineteenth-century court had serious occasion to
discuss, and explain, why a husband could be convicted as an accomplice to
a rape committed on his wife.
People v. Chapman, n88 the earlier of the two cases, was decided by the
Supreme Court of Michigan in 1886. Under a statute rendering all persons
who had aided, assisted, or abetted in the commission of a crime liable to
punishment as principals, Jeremiah Chapman had been tried and convicted in
the rape of his wife, Maggie Chapman. The testimony of Mrs. Chapman and of
the actual perpetrator of the offense, James Reagan, indicated that Mr.
Chapman had entered into an arrangement with Reagan, whereby Mr. Chapman
promised to pay Reagan twenty-five dollars in [*1404] return for
Reagan's agreement to seduce Mrs. Chapman so that her husband could catch
the couple in bed and use that evidence to obtain a divorce for adultery.
Mrs. Chapman, however, resisted Reagan's advances, and he proceeded to
rape her. As Reagan knew, Mr. Chapman was in an adjoining room at the
time, watching and listening to all of this through a hole he had bored
through the intervening wall. But Mr. Chapman did nothing to stop the
rape. Only after it was over, did he burst into the room, declaring ""Now
I have caught you.'" n89 Three days later, Mr. Chapman filed a bill for
divorce, alleging that his wife had committed adultery with Reagan. n90 On
appeal, Mr. Chapman argued that his actions were too tangential to make
him an accomplice: that he had simply remained passive throughout the
crime, that his agreement with Reagan had called for seduction, not rape.
n91 The court decisively rejected this claim, applying standard principles
from the law of accomplice liability. n92 It also described what it
understood to be the source of Mr. Chapman's "moral guilt." n93 In doing
so, the court did not simply explain that Maggie Chapman had been
subjected to unwanted and forced sex. That would hardly have been a
sufficient foundation for the case. Mrs. Chapman, remember, would have
suffered no legally cognizable injury if the man in bed with her had been
her husband. Rather, the opinion stressed that Mrs. Chapman, a married
woman, had been subjected to extramarital intercourse, sex the judges took
to be illicit and demeaning by definition. Jeremiah Chapman had then
compounded his crime by falsely accusing his wife of adultery, subjecting
her to the stigma of extramarital intercourse once more. In the court's
words:
A husband who could barter with another for the despoiling of his wife's
virtue, and stand by to witness it ..... , and remain passive and silent
while such object was obtained by violence, and then use such permitted
and encouraged rape to divorce her from him, and by this, and perjury
added, publish her to the world as an [*1405] adulteress, is morally
guilty of as foul a crime as can be named in the calendar. n94
State v. Dowell, n95 decided four years later in the Supreme Court of
North Carolina, also enforced the third-party caveat. In this case, "the
white husband of a white wife, under menace of death to both parties in
case of refusal, and supporting his threat by a loaded gun held over the
parties, [had] constrained a colored man to undertake, and his wife to
submit to, an attempted sexual connection." n96 Without doubt, the racial
composition of this crime had overwhelmingly increased the likelihood of
prosecution, conviction, and affirmation on appeal; witness how the North
Carolina court stated the facts. But in reasoning about the third-party
caveat to the marital rape exemption, the court here, like the court in
Chapman, explained the rule as illustrating and reinforcing the divide
between licit and illicit intercourse so that it turned on whether the
woman was married to her sexual partner, rather than on the woman's
consent. The fact that Dowell had attempted to force a black man to rape
his wife certainly underscored the illicit nature of the intercourse at
issue, but did not change the basic framework in which the court
understood the problem:
The defendant strangely insists that he is not guilty because he is the
husband of the prosecutrix; and he relies as a defense upon the marital
relation, the duties and obligations of which he has, by all the laws of
God and man, so brutally violated. In our opinion, in respect to this
offense, he stands upon the same footing as a stranger, and his guilt is
to be determined in that light alone. ..... It is true that &lb>a husband]
may enforce sexual connection; and, in the exercise of this marital right,
it is held that he cannot be guilty of the offense of rape. But it is too
plain for argument that this privilege is a personal one, only. Hence if
..... the husband aids and abets another to ravish his wife, he may be
convicted as if he were a stranger. The principle is thus tersely
expressed by Sir Matthew [*1406] Hale: "For, though in marriage she hath
given up her body to her husband, she is not to be by him prostituted to
another." n97
Authoritative legal sources in the nineteenth century agreed that a
husband could not, and should not, be prosecuted for raping his wife.
Their explanations, grounded in principles and presumptions evident
throughout nineteenth-century regulation of the marital relation and
sexuality, explicitly assumed and supported the legal subordination of
wives to husbands. Judges, lawyers, and legislators may have been willing
to oversee some modification of other aspects of women's legal status at
common law in the latter half of the nineteenth century, but they remained
emphatically unwilling to tamper with a husband's marital rape exemption.
C. The Marital Rape Exemption's Effect on the Lived Experience of
Marriage in the Nineteenth Century
It is far simpler to discern how the marital rape exemption was explained
and defended in judicial opinions and legal treatises than to discover how
a husband's conjugal rights affected the lived experience of marriage in
the nineteenth century. But the debate over marital rape turned on more
than the arguments for the exemption put forth by judges and lawyers. The
feminist campaign against marital rape did not simply treat a husband's
right to control the terms of marital intercourse as an apt symbol of
women's legal subjugation. The women challenging that right understood it
to have important practical consequences for the shape of women's married
lives. Moreover, the popular prescriptive literature that began to
delineate the harm of marital rape in the second half of the nineteenth
century focused exclusively on actual practice. These marriage manuals and
health guides did not seek to change the legal rule granting husbands
conjugal rights, but sought to ameliorate the functional effect of the
exemption by convincing husbands to voluntarily cede control of marital
intercourse to their wives.
By definition, the marital rape exemption meant that women subject to
forced sex in marriage did not have the option of seeking criminal
prosecution. It is not surprising that I was able to locate no
nineteenth-century prosecutions of a husband for raping his wife. n98 The
existence of the exemption made such attempts patently futile. The other
practical consequences of the exemption are more hidden from view.
Feminists and prescriptive writers engaged in a frank and voluminous
dialogue about marital intercourse and marital rape in the latter half of
the nineteenth century, but the social scientists of their era shied away
from the subject. The studies of women's sexual experiences in marriage
that do exist, [*1407] however, suggest a widespread desire among women
to control the terms of marital intercourse, a widespread recognition that
they did not have the right to exercise this control, and a widespread
experience of harm caused by unwanted sex in marriage.
Katharine Bement Davis's Factors in the Sex Life of Twenty-Two Hundred
Women (1929) n99 is the most systematic and rigorous examination of
women's experience of sex in marriage during this approximate period. n100
Davis, a social scientist and penologist, n101 sent ten thousand letters
to selected wives, asking them if they would be willing to answer and
anonymously return a questionnaire about their sexual experiences. n102
Her questionnaire was very thorough, n103 and she ultimately received
completed answers from 1073 married women. n104 Davis's study is not ideal
for a [*1408] number of reasons, including its concentration on women
somewhat younger than the contemporaries of the first woman's rights
movement and its narrow focus on the middle class and the elite. n105 But
notwithstanding its shortcomings, the study offers valuable information
about the nature of actual sexual practices in the approximate era in
which the first organized woman's rights movement challenged a husband's
conjugal rights. Her report presents a fascinating window into women's
lives.
The women Davis surveyed repeatedly made clear that they had entered into
marriage with the expectation that their husbands had the right to control
the terms of marital intercourse, although they were hardly enthusiastic
about that husbandly prerogative. When asked whether they had been
""adequately prepared by instruction for the sex side of marriage,'" n106
a number of women reported that their mothers had explicitly conveyed this
information about the nature of marriage to them. As one wife in this
cohort explained, ""My mother taught me what to expect. The necessity of
yielding to her husband's demands had been a great cross in her own
life.'" n107 Davis's questioning about whether the women had been
""attracted or repelled by the way in which married sex relations came
into [their] experience'" generated even more revealing responses. Nearly
a quarter (223) of the first thousand women to respond "replied
"neither.'" n108
Of these, 173 said that they "took it as a matter of fact"--something that
every married woman had to go through with, regardless of her feelings.
The other 50 qualified the "neither" with the following adjectives:
Amused, 1; astonished, 8; bewildered, 3; [*1409] disappointed, 7;
frightened, 8; indifferent, 8; indignant, 1; interested, 5; relieved (that
it was no worse), 1; resigned, 3; shocked, 1; sorry, 1; stunned, 1;
submissive, 2. n109
Davis's work also suggests that women's marital happiness in this period
importantly turned on how a husband chose to wield his authority over
marital intercourse--whether a husband actually exercised his admitted
rights or restrained himself voluntarily. Women "attracted" by their first
experiences of marital intercourse were significantly more likely to
report that their subsequent married life had been happy as well. n110 In
explaining what in their early sexual experiences had appealed to them,
these women stressed "over and over again ..... the unselfishness,
consideration, and self-control of the husband." n111 In contrast, women
who had been "repelled" by their introduction to marital intercourse--a
group that included almost one quarter (237) of the first thousand women
in the study--emphasized "just the opposite qualities ....... The wife
ignorant, unprepared, shocked at the strength of her husband's passion;
the husband unable to realize this, inconsiderate, uncontrolled; a long
period of adjustment--and if this fails, unhappiness for both." n112
Dr. Clelia Duel Mosher's earlier, if significantly smaller and less
systematic, survey of married women's sexual lives accords with Davis's
findings. n113 The Mosher study was notably less rigorous than Davis's
work. It consists of unprocessed data about just forty-five married women.
n114 Dr. Mosher, a physician and professor at Stanford University, did not
attempt to analyze her findings or to publish her study. n115 That said,
[*1410] Mosher's work provides useful information about an era somewhat
earlier than the period that Davis analyzed. Indeed, Mosher's study,
conducted between 1892 and 1920, is the earliest known survey of women's
sexual practices in the United States. n116 Seventy percent of the women
that Mosher questioned were born before 1870. Seventeen of the forty-five
women were born before the Civil War. n117
Mosher's subjects repeatedly explained that they wished to limit marital
intercourse to those occasions when it was agreed to by wife and husband
alike. When asked what they thought "would be an ideal habit" of sex in
marriage, these women stressed mutuality again and again. "Everything to
be absolutely mutual," they typically responded. n118 "When desired by
both." n119 "No habit at all, but the most sensitive regard of each member
of the couple for the personal feeling and desires and health of the
other." n120 "The marital relation when mutual," they explained, "begets a
certain bond of love and sympathy that is certainly peculiar only to those
happily mated." n121
At the same time, these women--like Davis's subjects--were well aware that
the actual conduct of their sexual lives was ultimately under their
husbands' control. Some women happily reported that their husbands had
agreed to mutuality. One wife, who had intercourse when it was "as much
desired by me as by him," explained that her husband was "an unusually
considerate man." n122 Another woman with a "considerate husband" noted
that he had delayed consummating their marriage for two weeks after the
wedding. n123 Many other women in Mosher's study, [*1411] however,
indicated that they were routinely obliged to submit to unwanted sex.
These women, like their peers, would have chosen to limit marital
intercourse to those times "when both had desire" n124 or "when acceptable
to both." n125 But they simultaneously reported their husbands' systematic
deviation from this ideal and the harm they had experienced as a result.
One of these respondents described "having intercourse on an average of
once a week," although sexual relations were "very painful" for her
because of injuries sustained in pregnancy and childbirth. n126 Another
explained that she had engaged in marital intercourse when she "often felt
averse to it" and indicated that her husband controlled decisions about
reproduction, the conception of her first child having taken place at "a
time chosen by [her] husband as one that would probably result in
pregnancy though [she] did not know his thought at the time." n127 Some
reported deep disappointment and dissatisfaction in marriage. One woman
had repeatedly been subject to much more frequent intercourse than she
desired. n128 Although she felt "more alive mentally & physically" after
sexual climax, she concluded nonetheless that her sexual experience in
marriage had been "not agreeable" and that "men had not been properly
trained." n129 A second woman in the same position wrote, more
emphatically, of the "shock and destruction of all ideals: When a pure
woman is treated by her husband as he has treated the prostitute he has
been to before marriage, it becomes loathsome." n130
Although tantalizingly incomplete, Davis's study and Mosher's work provide
some insight into how women negotiated marriage in the law's shadow. The
responses to these surveys reflect a definite understanding that men had
the authority to determine the conditions of marital intercourse and women
the obligation to submit to whatever sexual demands their husbands chose
to make. This understanding surely reflected social norms about acceptable
marital behavior. But it would be a mistake to conclude that the popular
expectations that Davis and Mosher reported were not linked to the law's
embrace of the marital rape exemption. The married women who responded to
the questionnaires that Davis and Mosher distributed made clear that
unwanted sex in marriage had caused them real harm and that they would
have greatly preferred it if their husbands had respected their desires
about sexual intercourse. Yet they knew [*1412] that their husbands had
a right to act differently, to diverge from what these women took to be
the most desirable standard of marital conduct. This understanding about a
husband's right to marital intercourse may have had nonlegal sources. But
it was certainly given enormous strength and realism by the fact that the
criminal law categorically refused to entertain claims based on forced sex
in marriage, especially when combined with the legal and socioeconomic
obstacles to securing a divorce based on marital rape (which will be
discussed below). n131 As a practical
matter, the marital rape exemption limited a woman' s options if she
sought to avoid marital rape. As a normative matter, the exemption added
the law's sanction to husbandly claims of marital authority. The marital
rape exemption was not just a theoretical question for the law books and
the legal treatises. It affected how women lived their married lives.
Yet this is hardly the full story of the marital rape exemption in the
nineteenth century. Authoritative legal sources unambiguously endorsed the
exemption, and the popular understanding of a man's marital rights seems
to have tracked the legal rule. This does not mean, however, that a
husband's conjugal prerogatives went uncontested in the nineteenth
century. As Part II recounts, the nineteenth-century woman's rights
movement fought against a husband's right to control marital intercourse
in a campaign that was remarkably developed, prolific, and insistent,
given nineteenth-century taboos against the public mention of sex or
sexuality. Leading feminists identified a husband's conjugal rights as the
crucial constitutive element of women's subordination. They called for
both an enforceable right to refuse a husband's sexual demands and
realistic socioeconomic alternatives to submission. The record of this
struggle dramatically expands our understanding of the history of marital
rape, and also provides important new insights into the goals, progress,
and efficacy of the first organized woman's rights movement, which
historians now frequently describe as overwhelmingly dominated by the
battle for suffrage.
At the level of prescriptive norms about marital behavior, discussed in
Part III, the organized feminist critique had genuine resonance, but
ultimately not transformative power. The advocates of "free love," who
operated on the leftward fringe of organized feminism in the nineteenth
century, articulated the arguments of the woman's rights movement in a
more radical voice. More surprisingly, popular tracts on marriage,
reproduction, and health agreed that the exemption's consequences should
be curbed in actual practice. Very soon after the organized woman's rights
movement mobilized against a husband's conjugal rights, these mainstream
authors began to describe and denounce the harm that marital rape
inflicted on wives. This prescriptive literature, though, did not contest
a [*1413] husband's legal right to determine the terms of marital
intercourse. Instead, it called on husbands to voluntarily refrain from
exercising their legal prerogatives, on the ground that such restraint
would benefit them as much as their wives. Where feminists demanded a
structure of rights to free women from subordination in marriage, the
prescriptive literature turned the concern over marital rape into a call
for voluntary strategies to enhance marital happiness and harmony, to be
pursued to the extent that they served a husband's interests.
In the end, as Part IV explains, the nineteenth-century feminists lived to
see no legal reform of a husband's conjugal prerogatives beyond marginal
adjustments in the terms on which divorce was available. The marital rape
exemption outlasted the rise of the first organized woman's rights
movement in the United States, the enactment of the first married women's
property acts, and the ratification of woman suffrage, but not because the
issue was uncontroversial or unspeakable. In this realm where sex and
reproduction were so clearly at issue, authoritative legal sources, like
mainstream prescriptive authors, were unwilling to translate the growing
social recognition that marital rape inflicted severe harm on wives into a
legal acknowledgment of the dangers potentially posed by the marital
relation, through the granting of legal rights that women might enforce
against their husbands.
II The First Organized Feminist Campaign Against a Husband's Conjugal
Rights
Almost immediately after the Seneca Falls Convention in 1848 sparked the
formation of the first organized woman's rights movement in the United
States, n132 feminists began to argue that full political and economic
rights, including even the vote, would not be nearly sufficient to
establish women' s equality with men. Although the woman's rights movement
was committed to each of these reforms, feminists simultaneously contended
that all of them would ultimately prove hollow unless a married woman also
had the right to regulate her husband's sexual access--the right to her
own person, in the language of the nineteenth century. Nineteenth-century
Americans were reluctant to speak openly about [*1414] sex, n133 and the
leaders of organized feminism were well aware of the social sanctions for
sexual frankness. But their commitment to establishing a woman's right of
self-possession as the foundation of her equality led feminists to offer a
systematic and thorough critique of marital rape in language wholly
understandable to contemporary audiences.
The consensual account of the history of marital rape now accepted by the
exemption's supporters and critics alike is simply wrong as a factual
matter. The nineteenth-century woman's rights movement contested a
husband's right to determine the terms of marital intercourse vociferously
and profoundly. Indeed, this campaign constitutes an important chapter in
the history of organized feminism in the nineteenth century, one that
sheds new light on the nature and dimensions of that movement.
Many historians have described the leadership of the nineteenth-century
woman's rights movement as classically liberal, meaning intent on securing
a gender-neutral distribution of political and economic rights and
uninterested in transforming the structure of familial relations. n134 On
this account, the first organized feminist movement sought to apply the
principles of the Declaration of Independence to women, without
challenging any of the document's other premises. Specifically, these
historians contend that feminists grounded their appeal for gender-neutral
rights of access to the public sphere in a natural rights argument that
stressed "that women were essentially human and only incidentally female"
n135 and regarded any mention of women's particular position, especially
in the family, "as suspect." n136 All men and women were created equal,
and the [*1415] appropriate way to recognize their equality was by
distributing political liberty, namely the right to vote for
democratically elected representatives. n137 This historical
interpretation of the woman's rights movement is grounded in a reading of
women's demands for suffrage. But historians have extrapolated from the
debate over suffrage to conclude that the nineteenth-century feminist
movement was neither alert to sources of inequality within the family that
affected women's power and resources as a class nor committed to
gender-specific structural reform. n138 Even where these historians
briefly allude to the feminist claim for self-ownership in marriage, they
do not indicate that this discussion might challenge their understanding
of the movement. n139 Nineteenth-century feminists certainly did rely on
arguments grounded in classic liberalism, which was the dominant
philosophical tradition of the era and well suited to the suffrage demand.
Indeed, the Declaration of Sentiments adopted at Seneca Falls [*1416]
was explicitly modeled on the Declaration of Independence. n140 Yet, as
the feminist argument for a wife's right to control her own person makes
clear, the notion that the woman's rights movement limited itself to
applying established liberal principles to women vastly understates the
scope of the movement's theoretical commitments. These feminists began
with liberalism's dedication to freedom and autonomy, but took it in
radically new directions.
In defining what the right to one's own person meant, articulate feminists
did not focus on gender-neutral rights to the public sphere or freedom
from coercion by the state. They were concerned about married women who
submitted to their husbands' sexual demands as the result of force, or
threats, or because they lacked palatable alternatives. The woman's rights
movement sought to establish a wife's right of refusal and to remake
women's social and economic possibilities to create realistic alternatives
to marriage. In making these claims, feminists recognized that some of the
most important barriers to female self-possession were located within the
structure of marriage, as well as the behavior of individual husbands.
Feminists criticized both a husband's legal right of sexual access and the
coverture rules that stripped married women of control over their family's
resources. They also objected to the tenuous circumstances under which
many never-married, separated, and divorced women lived, subject to both
explicit employment discrimination that left women with few ways to
support themselves outside of marriage and the social stigma associated
with living outside a husband's household. n141 Indeed, feminists called
unwanted marital intercourse, where the wife had acquiesced because of her
economic and social dependence on her husband, legalized prostitution.
n142 By that, they meant that the
wife who was structurally compelled to have sex when she did not desire
the act or its reproductive consequences was different only in name from
the woman without any available option but to sell her body to strange men
on the [*1417] street. In this vision, women's economic, legal, and
bodily vulnerabilities in marriage were all intricately connected. In
demanding a woman's right to her own person, feminists fought all of these
inequalities simultaneously.
This claim, moreover, was intensely gender-specific. Feminists campaigning
against marital rape focused solely on a woman's right to control marital
intercourse, and they did not articulate their demand as a call for women
to receive the same protections that men enjoyed. Their argument for
self-ownership was not based on a theory of bodily inviolateness that
would apply to man and woman like. Rather, it looked to women's exclusive
responsibility for raising children. Nineteenth-century feminists did not
celebrate the norm assigning women all of the work of childcare.
Nonetheless, they took it to be such a profound social expectation that
they reasoned within it, contending that women needed to have control over
marital intercourse so that they could regulate the amount of their lives
they devoted to motherhood. In demanding a woman's right to her own
person, the nineteenth-century feminist movement was asserting an equal
right, and challenging gender-based subordination, in a completely
gender-specific way. This is not to suggest that the woman's rights
movement would have countenanced sexual violence against men. But
organized feminism explained the right to self-ownership in an idiom
radically different from that employed by the nation's founders, one that
was grounded in a gender-specific understanding of the comparative social
position of women and men.
A. A Wife's Right to Her Person as the Predicate for Women's Equality
The feminist critique of women's legal subordination quickly focused on a
married woman's lack of control over her own person. This concern,
moreover, was evident throughout the woman's rights movement; feminists'
substantive views on the issue differed far less than their strategic
appraisals about how it could best be pursued. The most useful starting
point for understanding what organized feminism took to be at stake in
demanding a wife's right to her person lies in the work of Elizabeth Cady
Stanton, the most prominent and brilliant theorist of the movement.
As early as 1852, Stanton argued that marital intercourse was
inappropriate under certain conditions. Addressing a temperance
convention, she warned of the dire eugenic consequences of having children
with an alcoholic husband and informed the wives of such men that they
should cease sexual relations at once. "Live with him as a friend,"
Stanton advised, "watch over and pray for him as a mother would for an
erring son, soothe him in his wretchedness, comfort and support him, as
best [you] may--but for woman's sake, for humanity's sake, be not his
wife--bring [*1418] no children to that blighted, dreary, desolate
hearth." n143 This exhortation, of course, left the key question
ambiguous: How exactly was a wife to carry out her responsibility when her
husband insisted on sexual access? Did Stanton expect a wife to rely
solely on moral suasion? If so, what if persuasion did not work? n144
Indeed, one might read this statement as placing married women in a double
bind, wherein they would be held morally responsible for reproduction that
they did not, in fact or in law, have the ability to control. Stanton's
early ambiguity was deliberate. As she explained in a letter to Susan B.
Anthony, her closest ally, Stanton had grave doubts about "whether the
world [was] quite willing or ready to discuss the question of marriage."
n145 But Stanton's commitment to securing a married woman' s right to her
own person was clear. Indeed, in the same letter, she identified the issue
as the pivotal site of women's subordination:
It is in vain to look for the elevation of woman so long as she is
degraded in marriage. ..... Man in his lust has regulated long enough this
whole question of sexual intercourse. Now let the mother of mankind, whose
prerogative it is to set bounds to his indulgence, rouse up and give this
whole matter a thorough, fearless examination. ..... I feel, as never
before, that this whole question of woman's rights turns on the pivot of
the marriage relation, and, mark my word, sooner or later it will be the
topic for discussion. I would not hurry it on, nor would I avoid it. n146
In 1855, Stanton found the appropriate occasion for public frankness. n147
That year, her cousin, Gerrit Smith, a leading antislavery reformer who
was sympathetic to feminism, wrote her a public letter about the [*1419]
woman's rights movement. n148 In this letter, he argued that women's
continued inequality was largely the result of their dress, which was
admittedly constraining and impractical. n149 Stanton, in a forceful and
public reply, explained women's inequality as rooted in their lack of
control over their person. n150 She identified this right as the most
important that women hoped to achieve, more significant than any of the
rights for which women had been publicly agitating since 1848. Indeed,
Stanton articulated a view [*1420] of woman's citizenship that began,
locationally, with the body. She understood a woman's right to control her
person as the foundational right upon which political and economic
equality needed to rest if they were to have any value. Yet when Stanton
considered what was at stake in having control over one's person, she did
not speak in terms of physical transgression, condemning the bodily
invasion of unwanted intercourse or unwanted gestation. Instead, she
focused on the social work of reproduction, the work of raising children.
Stanton recognized that this work fell exclusively to women, and her
demand for self-possession spoke only to women's claims. Stanton's
argument about the right of self-ownership was, more accurately, an
intensely gender-specific argument about a woman's particular right. She
contended that women needed to have full control over marital intercourse
so that they could determine how many children they would raise and when.
As Stanton explained:
The rights, to vote, to hold property, to speak in public, are
all-important; but there are great social rights, before which all others
sink into utter insignificance. The cause of woman is ....... not a
question of meats and drinks, of money and lands, but of human rights--the
sacred right of a woman to her own person, to all her God-given powers of
body and soul. Did it ever enter into the mind of man that woman too had
an inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of her individual
happiness? Did he ever take in the idea that to the mother of the race,
and to her alone, belonged the right to say when a new being should be
brought into the world? Has he, in the gratification of his blind
passions, ever paused to think whether it was with joy and gladness that
she gave up ten or twenty years of the heyday of her existence to all the
cares and sufferings of excessive maternity? Our present laws, our
religious teachings, our social customs on the whole question of marriage
and divorce, are most degrading to woman ....... Here, in my opinion, is
the starting-point; here is the battleground where our independence must
be fought and won. n151
This was a claim about the right of every woman to control her own person.
Moreover, Stanton was certain that the vast majority of women, including
those who would never speak publicly, regarded present [*1421]
arrangements with "deep and settled disgust." n152 At the same time, it is
clear that when Stanton thought about the sacrifice involved in a life
unwillingly devoted to "excessive maternity," she was particularly mindful
of the position of educated and middle-class women, women very much like
herself. These women had the wherewithal and the desire to participate in
public political life, but not the opportunity, in part because of the
temporal demands of child rearing. Elsewhere in her letter to Smith,
Stanton described women's frustration--and suggested the role she
envisioned for women in the political community--this way:
Suppose yourself a woman. You are educated up to that point where one
feels a deep interest in the welfare of her country, and in all the great
questions of the day, in both Church and State; yet you have no voice in
either. Little men, with little brains, may pour forth their little
sentiments by the hour, in the forum and the sacred desk, but public
sentiment and the religion of our day teach us that silence is most
becoming in woman. n153
Stanton's argument for a woman's right to her person, first fully
developed in public in 1855, remained her pressing concern for years. n154
She consistently pursued the issue, with more or less explicitness,
although she was well aware that a demand to restructure the most intimate
relations of marriage would be extremely controversial. A year after
Stanton's reply to Smith, Lucy Stone, another leader of the woman's rights
movement, wrote Stanton privately, asking her to speak out again on "a
wife's right to her own body" at an upcoming National Woman's Rights
Convention, notwithstanding "the censure which a discussion of this
question [would] bring." n155 Stanton agreed to write to the convention,
although her public letter was less direct than Stone's private
correspondence. Rather than offer a complete account of the claim for
control over one's person, Stanton effectively referenced and invoked her
earlier argument. "Is it any wonder," she asked, "that woman regards
herself as a mere machine, a tool for men's pleasure? Verily is she a
hopeless victim of his morbidly developed passions." In the feminist
reordering, woman would be "the rightful lawgiver in all our most sacred
relations." n156 Women reading this letter would have had no difficulty
understanding its intent. In the years to follow, Stanton spoke about a
married woman's [*1422] right "to her person" again and again. n157 She
remained convinced that a wife's right to refuse her husband's sexual
demands was the bedrock foundation needed to support equality. "Woman's
degradation is in man's idea of his sexual rights," Stanton wrote to
Anthony. "How this marriage question grows on me. It lies at the very
foundation of all progress." n158
Stanton's understanding of a married woman's right to her person was
shared throughout the woman's rights movement. Consider Lucy Stone, who
was as prominent a feminist leader as Stanton but one generally taken to
be more moderate. Stone absolutely agreed with Stanton that a woman's
right to herself was the predicate on which equality depended. She
differed from Stanton only in her greater reluctance to discuss the right
in public, out of fear that outraged audiences would react by rejecting
the entire feminist agenda. Yet despite her strategic hesitancy, Stone
still publicly advocated a wife's right of self-possession, including, as
we will see, n159 through the famous protest she issued upon her own
marriage. n160 Stone was more wary of the potential costs of public
exposure, but at the same time she was also determined to create public
impetus for reform.
The tension in Stone's thought between her substantive commitment to
establishing a woman's right to herself and her fears that public
agitation on the question would be counter-productive was evident as early
as [*1423] 1853. By this point, Stanton had resolved to speak publicly
about the right to self-ownership when an agreeable opportunity arose,
n161 although she would not actually do so for another two years. n162
Stone, however, remained deeply worried that explicit advocacy was
premature. She explained her concerns in a letter to Stanton this way:
One who is in total darkness, finds his eyes pained by the sudden
admission of bright light--and closes them. So too with many, who are
thinking on the Woman question;--broach in their hearing, these thoughts,
that we must think, and feel, and their progress is yet so little, that
they will be frightened from further investigation. Such at least, has
been my fear. I do not care for any damnation, that may come from any
quarter, when I am sure that the full time has come. n163
As this passage indicates, Stone's anxieties did not reflect any doubts as
to the importance of securing a wife's right to her person. She went on to
emphasize that she agreed with Stanton, "in all, except it be the time to
strike." n164 "I know," Stone said, "that the abuse in question is
perfectly appalling. ..... One noble woman told me how she fled from her
husband, to the Shakers, because he gave her no peace either during
menstruation, pregnancy, or nursing." n165 Stone's eagerness to reform the
marital relation so that wives controlled their husbands' sexual access
was so great that even in a letter devoted to warning Stanton about the
risk of public exposure, Stone indicated the appeal that public advocacy
on the question held for her as well: "Shall we keep silence when such
curses are inflicted through woman upon the race?," Stone asked herself as
much as Stanton. "There is, I confess, much force in your reasoning upon
the subject." n166
Within two years, Stone herself had issued, on the occasion of her
marriage, a public and widely distributed protest against a husband's
legal control over his wife's person. Stone had long refused to marry
because she was unwilling to submit to the operation of coverture
principles. "It seems to me," she wrote in 1849, "that no man who deserved
the name of MAN, when he knows what a mere thing, the law, makes a married
woman, would ever insult a woman, by asking her to marry." n167 Henry
[*1424] Blackwell, her patient suitor and a reformer in his own right,
ultimately convinced her to change her mind by making clear that, in their
marriage, he would never enforce marital status law against her. n168 In
particular, she would have total freedom to determine the terms of marital
intercourse and, accordingly, unrestrained control over the social
relations of reproduction. "You shall," Blackwell assured her, "choose
when, where & how often you shall become a mother." n169 At Blackwell's
suggestion, n170 Stone agreed to make their arrangement public in the form
of a protest to be published immediately after their wedding on May 1,
1855. In this document, Stone and Blackwell specifically rejected the
theory of consent underlying marital status law, which conclusively
presumed agreement from a couple's decision to wed. They declared that
their agreement to marry "implied no sanction of, nor promise of voluntary
obedience to such of the present laws of marriage, as refuse to recognize
the wife as an independent, rational being, while they confer upon the
husband an injurious and unnatural superiority." n171 In listing the
features of coverture that they rejected, Stone and Blackwell cited a
husband's right to "custody of the wife's person" first. n172 This
statement was not as explicit as it might have been, and deliberately so,
but it was perfectly understandable to a nineteenth-century audience.
Indeed, it specifically inspired other feminists to speak publicly about a
wife's right to control her husband's sexual access. n173 Soon after her
wedding, Stone reviewed her objections to the legal terms of marriage in
language more accessible to modern readers:
[*1425]
It is clear to me, that [the marriage] question underlies, this whole
movement and all our little skirmishing for better laws, and the right to
vote, will yet be swallowed up, in the real question, viz, has woman, as
wife, a right to herself? It is very little to me to have the right to
vote, to own property &c. if I may not keep my body, and its uses, in my
absolute right. Not one wife in a thousand can do that now, & so long as
she suffers this bondage, all other rights will not help her to her true
position. n174
Stone, like Stanton, did not view a wife's right to her person as simply
one of many important rights to which women were entitled. Like Stanton,
she understood this right as the necessary foundation for equal
citizenship, without which all other legal reform would prove near
worthless.
Stanton and Stone articulated a perspective that was common in the woman's
rights movement. Feminists repeatedly singled out a woman's right to
control marital intercourse as the core component of equality. n175
Paulina Wright Davis, president of the 1871 meeting of the National
Women's Suffrage Convention, identified a woman's right to her person as
the most crucial right that women needed to achieve. She explained:
That the evils, sufferings and disabilities of the women, as well as of
men, are social still more than they are political, and that a [*1426]
statement of woman's rights, which ignores the right of self-ownership as
the first of all rights, is insufficient to meet the demand, and is
ceasing to enlist the enthusiasm and even the common interest of the most
intelligent portion of the community. n176
There is no subject, Matilda E.J. Gage agreed, "which lies deeper down
into woman's wrongs" than "the denial of the right to herself." n177 A
woman should, Lucinda B. Chandler concurred, "legally hold the custody and
control of her person in wifehood to govern according to her wisdom and
instincts the maternal office." n178 "The repeal of the law of coverture,
leaving the wife free to maintain her self-respect and to determine the
exercise of her function of maternity, will confer the greatest service
legislation can render." n179 Giving woman the right "to decide when she
shall become a mother, how often & under what circumstances" was only
just, n180 these arguments continued, because women performed the social
work of reproduction. Like Stanton and Stone, these nineteenth-century
feminists used women's exclusive responsibility for child rearing to
insist that women were entitled to control the terms of this work and
determine how much of their lives they would have to spend raising
children. n181 Chandler noted that [*1427] "one position, with its
attendant round of cares and duties, has ever been acknowledged as
especially Woman's--that of Motherhood." n182 Sarah M. Grimke elaborated:
Surely as upon her alone devolves the necessity of nurturing unto the
fulness of life the being within her & after it is born, of nursing &
tending it thro' helpless infancy & capricious childhood, often under the
pressure of miserable health; she ought to have the right of controlling
all preliminaries. If man had all these burdens to bear, would not he
declare that common sense & common justice confer this right upon him.
n183
B. Structural Consent and Marriage as Legalized Prostitution
Nineteenth-century feminists often explained that economic and political
equality would be meaningless, unless women had the right to their own
persons in marriage. The statements reflected their view that equal
citizenship needed to be grounded in self-ownership, because a wife's
right to control her husband's sexual access would enable her to determine
the conditions under which she performed reproductive labor. Yet this
point constitutes only part of the feminist claim, and overstates the
distinction that these women drew between personal self-possession, and
political and economic rights. When feminists elaborated their
understanding of consent, they made it clear that they would not be
satisfied with legal reform recognizing a wife's right to herself.
Instead, they argued that a wife could only freely consent to marital
intercourse under circumstances in which she had both the legal right to
refuse and realistic alternatives to submission. This was a structural
understanding of consent that [*1428] considered how the structure of
the marital relation, rather than simply the behavior of individual
husbands, shaped women's opportunities as a class. Feminists noted, and
attacked, the tremendous legal, social, and economic pressures that pushed
women into marriage and kept them there. A woman who lived outside a
husband's household, or (worse yet) divorced or separated, was
marginalized and often found it extremely difficult to support herself,
given laws and practices that explicitly excluded women from most jobs and
suppressed the wages for women's work. In marriage, coverture principles
stripped a wife of almost all legal claims to her household's resources
and power, leaving her to confront her husband as an economic, social, and
political dependent.
The language of "legalized prostitution" became one of the most powerful
idioms in which nineteenth-century feminists articulated this structural
understanding of consent. Even before the organization of the first
woman's rights movement, Hale and his successors had anxiously recognized
the similarities between the situation of wives subjected to the marital
rape exemption and prostitutes. As we have seen, these lawyers and judges
were never willing, or able, to present a substantive explanation
differentiating the work of prostitution from the sexual services that
husbands were entitled to take from their financially dependent wives.
Instead, the authoritative legal sources sought to distinguish the two
classes of women in jurisdictional terms. They argued that only
extramarital intercourse could constitute prostitution, that sex could
only be illicit and degrading if a woman's sexual partner was not her
husband. n184 The woman's rights movement emphatically rejected that
notion and was convinced that it had spotted a crucial weakness in the
defense of a husband's conjugal rights. Precisely countering the claims of
the exemption's supporters, feminists employed the term legalized
prostitution to describe the condition of wives who acquiesced to marital
intercourse because they had no practical alternative, nowhere else to go
and no other means of negotiating their marital relationship. They argued
that the legitimacy of sexual intercourse depended on a woman's genuine
consent (understood structurally), contending that there was little
relevant difference between married women who effectively traded sexual
access in return for their husbands' socioeconomic support, and
prostitutes who explicitly sold their sexuality to strangers because they,
too, had no better way to earn a living. Legal and illegal prostitution
were mirrored phenomena in the feminist vision, understandable on the same
terms. n185
[*1429] The feminist analysis of illegal prostitution focused on the
societal inequities that drove women to the trade, including, very
prominently, the impediments that women faced in securing a living wage.
Feminists understood prostitution as a (highly regrettable) substitute for
work in the legitimate market, for women who did not have a husband to
support them. This critique was directed outward; it did not account for
prostitution in terms of the internal character flaws or moral
worthlessness of its practitioners. Abby Price, a feminist from
Massachusetts, explained that "cruel necessity" often drove the prostitute
to vice. "The washer-woman," Price elaborated, "works as hard in
proportion as the wood-sawyer, yet she makes not more than half as much by
a day's work. Thus by narrowing the sphere of woman, and reducing her
remuneration of labor so unjustly, her resources are few and she finds it
hard to acquire an honorable independence." n186 "It is by no means rare,"
she added, "to see married women, widowed, or deserted by their husbands,
becoming abandoned, with the sole object of saving their families from
dying with hunger." n187 Lucy Stone similarly identified the causes of
prostitution. "Women working in tailor-shops are paid one-third as much as
men," she noted. Someone had calculated that this wage left women "just
three and a half cents a day for bread. Is it a wonder," Stone concluded,
"that women are driven to prostitution?" n188 "Is it not time," these
women asked, "to throw open to women, equal resources with men, for
obtaining honest employment?" n189
[*1430] The feminist attack on legalized prostitution in marriage
proceeded along the same lines, explaining why wives were not able to
exercise free choice with regard to marital relations when they had no
good alternatives to acquiescence. "Even in our republic (so called),"
Harriot Hunt reported, woman "is denied a finished education, and refused
a just remuneration for her labor, and thus has been driven into legal and
illegal prostitutions." n190 "Dollars and a home come to woman through
man." n191 Wives "prostituted" themselves "body and soul," Fuller Walker
confirmed, "for the sake of a home, a shelter, or money enough to buy
bread that the passions of men may be satisfied." n192 While many
feminists spoke of legalized prostitution as marrying "for a home," others
contended that this description was too mild. Grimke, for instance, argued
that marriages where women functionally traded sexual access for support
could not accurately be described in a language of domesticity: "Many a
woman (I call her not wife)," Grimke noted, "loathes the unhallowed
connection she has formed & would gladly welcome death as a deliverer from
that polluted prison house, which the world miscalls her home. A revolting
experience has forced upon her the conviction that she is a legal
prostitute." n193
[*1431] Feminists elaborated on this analysis as it applied to
middle-class women outside the wage labor market, but explained the
constraints that operated on women who performed market work as well.
Stanton, particularly interested in the situation of the middle-class
housewife, articulated a multi-tiered set of obstacles to exercising free
choice with respect to marital intercourse. The first obstacle, of course,
was legal. Marital status law gave women no control over their husbands'
sexual demands: "A man in marrying gives up no right; but a woman, every
right, even the most sacred of all--the right to her own person." n194 Yet
that was not the only constraint Stanton saw. If marriage was to rise
above "legalized prostitution," wives needed to have "personal freedom,"
something more, even, than a legal right to control marital intercourse.
n195 This freedom "[did] not and [could not] now belong to the relation of
wife, to the mistress of the isolated home, to the financial dependent."
n196 Middle-class women were systematically trained, in Stanton's view,
"to lives of inaction and dependance." n197 Indeed, they learned "dependance
as a womanly virtue." n198 Marriage gave men enormous legal, economic, and
social control over their wives. But women whose families could afford to
educate them were taught to shun work in the arts, literature,
philanthropy or the academy, which might have provided them with a happy
alternative to marriage where they could not find "a pure and holy love."
n199 Instead, these women were instructed to devote themselves to
attracting a husband. [*1432] "If," Lucy Stone agreed, a middle-class
woman went "heartily and bravely to give herself to some worthy purpose,
she is out of her sphere and she loses caste." n200 As a consequence,
these women had, Stanton continued, little alternative upon reaching
adulthood, but "marrying for a home, a support, a position, a head, a
protector, a defender, &c., marrying to escape the horrors of a single
life of inactivity and vacuity, the odious cognomen of old maid." n201
"Teach woman self-dependance," Stanton advised, "and you end the wholesale
degradation of the sacred institution of marriage." n202 "Educate woman,"
Ernestine Rose concurred, "to enable her to promote her independence, and
she will not be obliged to marry for a home and a subsistence." n203
Of course, it was hardly the worry of poorer women that their lives had
been squandered away in frivolity and indolence. Many women had no choice
but to engage in market work. The woman's rights movement also described
the somewhat different reasons that these women needed more than the legal
right to refuse marital intercourse before they would be able to exercise
genuine control over their own persons. As the feminists noted, most
"profitable employments" were closed to women, and women were paid less
for the work they did: "Even for the same services woman generally
receives less than man." n204 They concluded that "the present condition
of woman caused a horrible perversion of the marriage relation." n205 "As
a consequence of her fewer resources, marriage has been to her the great
means of securing position in society." n206 Women had to [*1433] "marry
for a home," and were, accordingly, not able to exercise free choice in
selecting, or remaining with, a husband. n207 The marital relation, Ann
Preston declared, "which should ever be a "holy sacrament,' the unbiased
and generous election of the free and self-sustained being--too often is
degraded into a mean acceptance of a shelter from neglect and poverty!"
n208 Woman would not be able to freely choose marriage, until she had
"free access to vocations of profit and honor, the means of earning a
livelihood and independence for herself!"
n209
C. The First Woman's Rights Campaign Against Marital Rape as a
Distinctly Nineteenth-Century Movement
Leading nineteenth-century feminists understood a woman's right to her
person as the core foundation on which equal citizenship needed to rest.
Their definition of consent to marital intercourse, in turn, demanded both
a legal right to refuse, as well as the existence of real socioeconomic
alternatives to marriage and submission. In many ways, these claims still
resonate as distinctly modern. But one should not make the mistake of
conflating nineteenth-century feminism with modern claims against the
marital rape exemption. n210
As an initial matter, women were systematically excluded from the bar in
the nineteenth century, n211 and their lack of legal training had
important consequences for the shape of the arguments that the first
woman's rights movement put forth. Organized feminists clearly wanted to
[*1434] establish a woman's right to control the terms of marital
intercourse. They meant this to be an independent right, moreover, not one
subject to a husband's benevolent agreement. But these women did not
clarify what form of enforcement they had in mind. To my knowledge, the
woman's rights movement never addressed, for instance, the relative merits
of criminal penalties as opposed to civil sanctions for marital rape.
Moreover, the movement did not specify whether husbands were to be
punished for marital intercourse to which their wives had acquiesced for
want of palatable alternatives. The feminists' understanding of genuine
consent was significantly more far-reaching than any definition that has
ever operated in the criminal law on rape, even outside of the marital
context. Criminal rape law focuses on the interaction between the
particular victim and perpetrator: who did what when, who said what to
whom. But the nineteenth-century feminist understanding of marital rape
did not always turn on what an individual husband did or said. It
challenged the voluntariness of a wife's consent to sexual intercourse
with her husband whenever the wife had no realistic socioeconomic
alternatives to marriage and submission, even where the woman's husband
had never resorted to force, threats, or coercion. Perhaps the feminists
envisioned subjecting "legalized prostitution" to the far lesser criminal
penalties associated with illegal prostitution, but they never made that
point. Such institutional questions were not of particular interest to
nineteenth-century feminism. But to be fair, the judicial opinions and
legal treatises of the nineteenth century did not explain the marital rape
exemption by reference to institutional claims about the unsuitability of
criminal sanctions. The authoritative legal sources argued from an
understanding about the nature of marriage that was grounded in an
acceptance of women's legal subordination, and the woman's rights movement
attacked marital rape on those terms.
Nineteenth-century feminists also had reasons to be wary of marital
intercourse that do not neatly map onto the modern landscape. As we have
already seen, nineteenth-century feminists built on the premise that women
would do all the social work of reproduction, the work of raising
children. Rather than highlight issues of bodily autonomy or
inviolateness, they understood a wife's right to control her husband's
sexual access as the mechanism through which a married woman would
determine the conditions under which she performed this labor. A number of
other considerations distinctively structured organized feminism's
assessment of the risks and rewards of marital intercourse.
Nineteenth-century feminists understood male sexuality to be importantly
different from female sexuality. This view did not deny the female sex
drive. Indeed, Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to graduate from
medical school in the United States, devoted much of a treatise to
[*1435] disputing the then-common notion that women naturally lacked
sexual passion. n212 But feminists did take male sexuality to be "morbidly
developed" in a way that its female counterpart was not. n213 On this
theory, woman had "more self-control than man;" n214 irrational or immoral
sexual acts tempted her far less. Stanton was sure that no woman enjoyed
acts of prostitution, because "the true woman in her organization [was]
too refined and spiritual, to be the victim of an over-powering passion"
like that. n215 In contrast, this view held that lust and licentiousness
systematically overrode male rationality and constantly tempted men to
commit immoral acts, like insisting on marital intercourse when their
wives' health called for restraint. n216
Although slightly more nuanced, the feminists' dichotomous rendering of
the sexual instincts of man and woman drew heavily on a general societal
understanding that the female sex drive was far less pronounced and more
easily controllable than its male equivalent. n217 [*1436] As Nancy Cott
has most prominently noted, women had a number of reasons to accept and
even promote their reputation for sexual reticence in the nineteenth
century. n218 Female passionlessness was culturally associated with the
premise that the natural inclination of womanhood was to moral
seriousness. While women's status as moral exemplars had its own
difficulties, it provided a sturdier foundation for respect and equality
than earlier, Edenic images of women as sexual temptresses or sexual
objects. n219 The costs of passionlessness for women, moreover, were
mitigated. Women did not have the freedom to take many sexual liberties,
even if they had been assumed to have interests in that direction. The
social and [*1437] economic penalties for a woman's adultery within
marriage and promiscuity or pregnancy before it remained extremely high.
n220 The available empirical evidence on sexual practices, furthermore,
suggests that many of the heterosexual experiences that women did have
were not pleasurable, with men focused solely on their own sexual
satisfaction. n221
This vision of female sexuality helped structure the nineteenth-century
feminist conversation on marital rape. Widespread agreement about women's
lesser sexual interest lent support to feminist efforts to resist men's
sexual demands. The image of overdeveloped male sexuality, in turn, gave
force to the claim that women needed an enforceable right to control the
terms of marital intercourse because they could not assume that their
husbands' sexual overtures would be tempered by reason and good moral
judgment. Finally, the feminists' understanding that women's sexual
desires were less developed led them to discount the potential costs of
sexual restraint. The woman's rights movement did not criticize marital
intercourse to which the woman had genuinely consented. It would be a
mistake to conclude that nineteenth-century feminists were categorically
hostile to sex. But they did not express any concern that according women
full control over their husbands' sexual access would limit opportunities
for sexual expression or sexual pleasure.
The nineteenth-century feminists' opposition to the use of contraceptive
devices and abortion also influenced their understanding of the risks of
marital intercourse. The first woman's rights movement was highly
sympathetic to the reasons why women sought abortions. These feminists
understood the incidence of abortion, in fact, to be rooted in women's
lack of control over marital intercourse, which led desperate women to
resort to abortion in order to control their fertility. They blamed the
husbands who refused to restrain their sexual demands, rather than the
wives forced to submit to them. "Forced maternity, not out of legal
marriage but within it, the complete power of the stronger over the weaker
sex," feminists explained, "must lie at the bottom of a vast proportion of
such revolting outrages against the laws of nature and our common
humanity." n222 But nineteenth-century feminists still did not endorse
[*1438] abortion or contraceptive devices as means of regulating
reproduction. n223 Linda Gordon has posited that nineteenth-century
feminists feared that separating intercourse from reproduction would
facilitate male infidelity, destabilizing marital relationships on which
women were enormously dependent, in an environment in which extramarital
sexuality remained an unattractive option for middle-class women. n224 As
Reva Siegel has noted, supporting abortion would also have been very
politically costly for the feminist movement, given the medical
establishment's fierce and organized opposition to abortion in the second
half of the nineteenth century. n225 This focus on limiting intercourse as
the only means of curtailing reproduction, however, made
nineteenth-century feminists extremely conscious of the costs and perils
of each act of marital intercourse. These risks, moreover, encompassed
more than the possibility that a woman would have to raise too many
children, too quickly. They also included the physiological dangers
associated with reproduction. Women still commonly died, or were
permanently disabled, by pregnancy and childbirth in the nineteenth
century. n226
[*1439] Finally, the first woman's rights movement predicted horrific
eugenic consequences for the children that unwanted marital intercourse
produced. In the second half of the nineteenth century, Americans
increasingly understood their country in demographic terms, locating the
key constitutive act of nation building in women's reproductive capacity
and articulating a wide variety of claims in a eugenic idiom. The dominant
eugenic arguments of the period endorsed America's hierarchies of national
origin and race, contending that this ordering was natural, physiological,
and unchangeable. These arguments faulted native-born white women for
producing too few children while foreign-born and African-American women
were producing too many. The claim featured heavily in the antiabortion
literature of the day. Horatio R. Storer, the leader of that campaign,
advised native-born white women that "the future destiny of the nation"
rested "upon their loins." If unchecked, their supposedly disproportionate
propensity for abortion would leave America "filled" with the children of
aliens. n227 Similar fears about the nation's demographic fate lent
support to the rash of antimiscegenation laws prohibiting interracial
marriage that states enacted in the aftermath of the Civil War. n228
Historians have frequently noted that some nineteenth-century feminists
directly appealed to this tradition on occasion. In particular, the
debates over the Fifteenth Amendment led some women to make eugenic claims
in support of the contention that native-born white women deserved the
vote more than black men or male immigrants. n229 But there was more to
the feminist argument about eugenics than this account suggests.
[*1440] Like the dominant purveyors of eugenic theories, the woman's
rights movement developed eugenic arguments that supported its moral and
legal claims. n230 At least when feminists described the eugenic
consequences of depriving wives of control over their persons, their
attention rested on environmental conditions of structured inequality
rather than on race or national origin. In the (convenient) thinking of
the movement, forced marital intercourse not only undermined a woman's
freedom and equality, it was also eugenically disastrous for her children.
Feminists assumed the inheritability of acquired characteristics and
contended that a husband's licentiousness and a wife's unhappiness about
her impending maternity [*1441] would be transmitted to their child
before birth, forever diminishing the child's capabilities and prospects.
A "corrupt, licentious, drunken brute" had the legal right, a subscriber
to the feminist Woman's Journal warned, to "debauch and outrage [his
wife's] person," to "force her to give birth to unwelcome children, the
exact pattern of the father, to curse the world." n231 "Medical
jurisprudence," Gage also advised, "has begun to accumulate facts on this
point, showing how the condition and feelings of the mother mould not only
the physical and mental qualities of the child, but its moral nature."
n232 "So long as children are conceived in weariness and disgust," Stanton
agreed, "you must not look for high-toned men and women capable of
accomplishing any great and noble achievement." n233
Such arguments demarcated a field of harm, predicting that the adverse
consequences of marital rape would be felt intergenerationally. But they
also held out the possibility of change and salvation. The leading eugenic
theories of the period described large portions of the population as
irredeemably inferior, and used that to justify their continued
subordination. Feminists, committed to more emancipatory principles,
presented the mirror image of that claim, promising that the character of
subsequent generations would improve if women had the right to control
marital intercourse. Furthermore, where standard eugenic arguments blamed
women for using their reproductive capacity unwisely, feminists laid the
responsibility for eugenically undesirable children squarely at men's
feet, on the ground that men controlled the terms on which reproduction
occurred. As intended, these claims only increased what was at stake in
marital intercourse. Nineteenth-century feminists sought to establish a
[*1442] wife's control over her husband's sexual access in order to
achieve equal citizenship for women. They also insisted that placing the
regulation of marital intercourse in female hands was the only way to
guarantee the health, vigor, morality, and developmental soundness of the
future generation. "Truly," Stanton concluded, "are the sins of the father
visited upon the children. God, in his wisdom, has so linked together the
whole human family, that any violence done at one end of the chain is felt
throughout its length." n234
Participants in the nineteenth-century woman's rights movement argued that
a wife's right to her own person was the foundation on which women's
equality and freedom depended. This view reflected their understanding
that the right of self-possession would enable women to determine the
conditions under which they raised children. Organized feminists in the
nineteenth century, as should be clear at this point, did not contest
women's responsibility for this work, or sanction other means of
regulating the frequency of childbirth, like contraception or abortion.
They saw limiting marital intercourse as the only legitimate method of
regulating the work of motherhood and, for precisely this reason, were
determined to give control over marital intercourse to wives. Accordingly,
where authoritative sources in the criminal law argued that a wife's
consent to marital intercourse could be legally and irretrievably presumed
from her decision to marry, the woman's rights movement demanded both a
legal right to refuse and real socioeconomic alternatives to
submission.III Alternate Iterations of the Nineteenth-Century Critique of
Marital Rape
Criticism of marital rape in the nineteenth century was not limited to the
members of the organized woman's rights movement. Accounts of the harm
that marital rape inflicted on wives appeared in other iterations, both on
the fringes of feminism and, more remarkably, in the popular prescriptive
literature on marriage, health, and reproduction. The nature and direction
of the causal links between these social conversations is, to be sure,
difficult to trace precisely. Most likely, the causation was circular, so
that the organized feminist campaign was facilitated by growing [*1443]
opposition to marital rape outside the movement, at the same time that the
efforts of organized feminism helped foster and give momentum to this
wider opposition. What is striking, though, is that there was a near
simultaneous broaching of the question of marital rape in a number of
different social communities in the latter half of the nineteenth century,
suggesting that the woman's rights discourse about a supposedly
unspeakable subject was far more centrist and in dialogue with customary
norms than one might have otherwise assumed.
One site of opposition to marital rape outside of the organized woman's
rights movement in the nineteenth century centered on the advocates of
what was then known as "free love." These figures, less the constituents
of a cohesive movement than a series of loosely affiliated individual
thinkers, occupied the left-most part of nineteenth-century feminism,
although at the margins there was some overlap in membership with the
woman's rights movement. The free lovers agreed with the essential
elements of the organized feminist argument for a woman's right to her own
person. But they articulated their critique of the current structure of
marital relations more radically and expansively, and called for even more
transformative change than the woman's rights movement envisioned. Many
members of the woman's rights movement resented the controversial free
lovers and labored to disassociate themselves from free love in the
popular mind. Yet it is hardly clear that the advocates of free love
hampered the woman's rights movement's campaign against marital rape. The
work of the free lovers added to the reasoning underlying the organized
feminist attack on a husband's conjugal prerogatives. And the free lovers'
deliberately provocative style may have made the woman's rights movement
appear less radical by comparison.
More importantly, perhaps, the popular prescriptive literature contains
powerful evidence that the feminist campaign against marital rape
resonated with changing social norms about good marital behavior. Dozens
of mainstream prescriptive writers began to publish extensive discussions
of the moral, physiological, and eugenic harm caused by marital rape
almost immediately after the organized feminist movement began to address
the issue. This literature, however, did not contest a husband's legal
right to determine the terms of marital intercourse. Rather, it sought to
convince husbands to voluntarily refrain from exercising their
acknowledged legal prerogatives, assuring them that the accommodation
would benefit men as much as their wives. Feminists insisted on a wife's
right to control her own person, to be pursued in the interest of ending
women's marital subordination. The prescriptive literature certainly
helped disseminate societal recognition of the proposition that marital
rape inflicted injury on women. But that literature's version of the claim
recommended only noncompulsory strategies for marital health, [*1444]
happiness, and harmony, to be pursued at a husband's discretion so long as
they furthered his self-interest.
Let's begin, though, with the free lovers.
A. The Advocates of Free Love
The advocates of free love parted company with the nineteenth-century
feminist movement mainly over the ultimate desirability of the marital
relation. The woman's rights movement sought to radically restructure
marriage so that wives exercised much more power and control within it,
but organized feminism endorsed marital monogamy and stability. Free
lovers rejected the marriage form altogether. They argued that the law
should create absolutely no constraints on consensual love and sex, and
understood the prohibition on extramarital intercourse as such a
constraint. n235 In the free love vision, each person had the ""right to
love when she will, where she will and how she will.'" n236
[*1445] Not surprisingly, nineteenth-century conservatives were
ferocious critics of free love. They abhorred its rejection of legal
marriage, which they took to be a simple promotion of "Libertinism" and
licentiousness. n237 Many--although not all--members of the organized
woman's rights movement, in turn, were anxious to distinguish themselves
from the more radical free lovers, n238 particularly since one of the most
effective, if [*1446] unsubstantiated, charges leveled against the
woman's rights movement in the nineteenth century was that it advocated
free love. n239 Nonetheless, the free lovers' willingness to operate at
the left-most reaches of public discourse may have helped deaden the shock
of the mainline feminists' only somewhat more moderate claims. Moreover,
for all the differences between free love and organized feminism on the
value of the marriage form, the free lovers' attack on marital rape was
closely aligned to that articulated by the woman's rights movement, even
if couched in a more explicit and provocative idiom. The free lovers
constituted another set of voices making the feminist case for a woman's
right to self-possession.
The free lovers agreed with organized feminism that a woman's control over
her own person was the necessary foundation for her equal citizenship.
n240 They characterized a husband's sexual imposition on his unwilling
wife as the violation of a "Woman's Natural Right to ownership of and
control over her own body-self,--a right inseparable from Woman's
intelligent existence; a right unquestionable, precious,
inalienable, real--beyond words to express." n241 But where the organized
feminist movement's critique of marital rape left its preferred mode of
enforcement unspecified, the free lovers charged--at great length and to
tremendous publicity-- that unwanted sex in marriage was no different from
the nonmarital outrages already prohibited and severely punished in
criminal rape statutes. "Night after night there are thousands of rapes
committed," Victoria Woodhull reported, "under cover of this accursed
[marriage] license." n242 "The world has got to be startled ..... into
realizing that there is nothing else now existing among pretendedly
enlightened nations, except marriage, that invests men with the right to
debauch women, sexually, against their wills." n243 "To the unmarried
woman," Thomas Low Nichols and Mary S. Gove Nichols added, "a rape, or the
violent possession of her person, is an outrage, which the laws of most
countries punish with death." Yet after the marriage ceremony, "not only
does the law justify the outrage, but she is severely blamed by a virtuous
[*1447] society for not submitting to the man, to whom her person, her
whole being forever belongs!" n244
The free lovers also compared a wife's sexual subjection in marriage to
slavery. This was the most powerful reformist analogy available in
postbellum America. After generations of debate over slavery and four
years of war, the nation had just declared that particular form of
subordination to be illegitimate. It was an open, and highly contested,
question just how far the logic of freedom and equality that had
undergirded the emancipation of the slaves would be permitted to extend in
the postbellum period. But it was clear that other status relations would
be more vulnerable the more they were understood to resemble slavery. The
advocates of free love, taking full advantage of the rhetorical
possibilities, constantly described marital rape in the language of
bondage. Wives, they said, were "Sexual Slaves." n245 Under "legal sexual
slavery," n246 a wife's duty was "submission." n247 Her husband's will was
"her only law." n248 Indeed, in the decade before the Civil War, the
Nicholses had devoted an entire chapter of their work on marriage to the
parallel between a wife and a slave. n249 This discussion drew a specific
analogy to the systemic sexual exploitation of slave women by white men,
which was a constitutive element of chattel slavery in the United States.
n250 The Nicholses advocated abolition, [*1448] defined broadly to
include all forms of sexual subjugation that denied a woman--slave or
wife-- the right to refuse a man's sexual demands. n251
In criticizing marital rape, the free lovers stressed that a woman needed
control over her own person in order to determine the conditions under
which she performed the work of raising children. n252 But the free
lovers' focus on the work of motherhood was not particularly tight. In
contrast to the leaders of the organized woman's rights movement, who
[*1449] concentrated on limiting the downside risks of sexuality for
women, the advocates of free love also justified a woman's right to
control her husband's sexual access by reference to rights of the body:
namely, female sexual autonomy and pleasure. Woodhull, who always made the
woman' s rights movement seem substantially more traditional by
comparison, was concerned about wives who were sexually unfulfilled
because "compelled to undesired relations with the legal owners of their
sexual organs." n253 "The mind," she elaborated, "in rebellion at the
enslaved condition, has such an effect upon the sexual act that it becomes
impossible for [the woman] to respond or reciprocate." n254 In Woodhull's
view, sexual apathy actually threatened a wife's health and longevity. She
cited medical authority for the proposition that: ""If the [sex] act is
complete, so that both body and mind are satisfied, no disease arises,
though there be frequent repetitions; but if the act be incomplete, the
organs being irritated merely, and the mind not satisfied, then disease
will surely follow.'" n255 The Nicholses concurred in finding that "the
apathy of the sexual instinct in woman is caused by the enslaved and
unhealthy condition in which she lives." n256 "A healthy and loving
woman," they reported, "is impelled to material union as surely, often as
strongly, as man." n257 These women were, the couple warned, "destroyed by
being made bond-women." n258
The free love critique of forced oral sex in marriage was another sign of
their concern with women's sexual autonomy and pleasure, as well as their
willingness to delve publicly into topics that brought the issue of
marital rape to the fore even as they made the organized woman's rights
movement seem almost tactful by comparison. The conduct here was
necessarily not procreative, but many women in the nineteenth century
thought oral sex was inherently degrading. The issue was whether a wife
had the right to refrain from sex acts in which she did not want to
[*1450] participate, even when the possibility of maternity was not at
stake. The free lovers answered that question, not surprisingly, with a
resounding yes. The Lucifer, a journal devoted to free love principles,
published a series of letters in 1890 detailing the particular humiliation
that wives experienced upon being compelled to perform oral sex. "I know
of one case," one correspondent reported, "where a man when his wife was
so near her confinement that he did not care to enforce his claim in the
natural way, forced her to relieve him by making a " sucker' of her and
she would vomit with the disgust and nausea thus caused." n259 "So long as
these revolting, disgusting, horrible things are," these writers agreed,
"they may as well be made known, that they may be done away with. The fact
that they do exist is enough to make any person having any humanity in
them, struggle to enlighten the race on the right use of sex." n260
Like the organized woman's rights movement, the free lovers went on to
demand more than a wife's legal right to refuse. They also condemned the
structure of marriage more generally, joining organized feminism to
explain that wives functioned as legalized prostitutes whenever they had
no realistic alternatives to marriage and submission. n261 Woodhull, like
Stanton and Stone, repeatedly stressed that women would never achieve
sexual freedom until they were "self-reliant and self-supporting
individuals," n262 no longer "dependent upon [men] for the means of
subsistence." n263 "Sexual relations," she declared, "should be the result
of entirely different motives than for the purpose of physical support."
n264 The [*1451] free lovers ultimately rejected the marriage form
entirely, going significantly beyond what the woman's rights movement
endorsed. n265 But the free lovers' analysis of marriage as it was
currently constituted resonated deeply with the organized feminist effort
against marital rape.
Feminists across the spectrum in the latter half of the nineteenth century
agreed that a husband's conjugal rights were a crucial constitutive
element in women's subordination and campaigned for a wife's right to her
own person. The advocates of free love offered a critique of marital rape
which reinforced that advanced by the organized woman's rights movement,
even as the free lovers spoke in a more radical and explicit voice. But
feminists were not alone in their opposition to marital rape. Very soon
after feminists began to address the question, the popular prescriptive
literature on marriage started to broach the subject as well.
B. The Popular Prescriptive Literature
The prescriptive literature on marriage in the second half of the
nineteenth century was preoccupied with warning husbands to refrain from
marital intercourse when they did not have their wives' consent. Popular
authors, like the woman's rights reformers, were remarkably frank, even
verbose, in their discussion of the issue.
n266 Marriage manuals, written by
both men and women and widely read, warned husbands that subjecting one's
wife to marital intercourse when she did not want to risk the possibility
of motherhood was immoral and dangerous to the health of [*1452] man,
woman, and unwillingly produced child. n267 They called on husbands not to
exercise their legal prerogatives and proposed a wide array of stratagems
to facilitate that result. In this way, criticism of marital rape
registered and reverberated in a wider popular conversation about intimacy
in marriage in the nineteenth century.
It is important to recognize, however, the differences between the
feminist rights discourse on marital rape and the work of mainstream
prescriptive writers. First, the popular prescriptive literature focused
on each individual husband's behavior. These texts wanted husbands to
refrain from nonphysical coercion, as well as physical force compelling a
wife to submit to marital intercourse. But their understanding of a wife's
consent did not include the structural concerns about marriage that
occupied feminists; these writers did not suggest an inquiry into the
limited economic and social opportunities that pushed women into marriage
and kept them there.
More fundamentally, the operative premise behind the popular prescriptive
literature's argument for a husband's voluntary restraint was that he had
the authority to act differently. This literature explicitly addressed
social norms, rather than the law. Yet the two were never fully separable.
The law shaped the prescriptive literature's understanding of society,
even as that literature urged husbands to act better in practice than the
law required. The prescriptive literature's entire discussion of manly
self-restraint assumed and accepted the baseline proposition that a
husband had the right to control the terms of marital intercourse. He
might be persuaded not to avail himself of that entitlement, by tracts
promising that marital mutuality would benefit a husband at least as much
as his wife. But prescriptive writers acknowledged that the choice was
ultimately his. This was the very proposition that the woman's rights
activists vigorously disputed. Nineteenth-century feminists explained a
husband's conjugal prerogatives as an instrument of women's subordination
and demanded rights that women could enforce against their husbands. In
the prescriptive literature, this rights discourse was transformed into
suggested strategies for marital health, happiness, and harmony, to be
pursued in a husband's interest and at his discretion.
[*1453]
1. The Prescriptive Account of the Harm of Marital Rape
Like the nineteenth-century feminists, prescriptive writers elaborated at
length on the harm that marital rape inflicted. But the prescriptive
literature's focus was not on wives alone. This literature warned that
marital rape inflicted severe injuries on wives that were morally
untenable. It went on, however, to report that marital rape ultimately
operated against a husband's self-interest as well, appealing directly to
the party who retained the right of control.
Prescriptive writers put forth three prominent moral arguments explaining
the harm that marital rape caused wives. These arguments were not feminist
in their reasoning; they did not consistently recognize the fundamental
equality of men and women. But they were real and empathetic nonetheless.
The prescriptive literature's first moral argument was grounded in a view
of the animal world, which supposed that intercourse among lower animals
was always under the female's control. This argument, in essence, was a
claim that women should be treated as well as other female animals, not a
claim for women to be treated as well as men. Although put forth in an
effort to mitigate the functional consequences of women's subordination to
men, the argument did not challenge that hierarchical ordering. n268 It
simply contended that what was natural (and therefore right) for lower
animals, was right for women as well. When R.T. Trall declared that "God
and Nature have given to the female the supreme control of her own
person," he cited the practice of "the whole animal kingdom below man" as
his sole piece of supporting evidence. n269 "No male animal offers
violence to the female," Trall explained. "He never compels her to submit
to the sexual embrace against her desire, nor forces her to bear offspring
against her inclination or will. But, when she is in condition to
propagate her kind, and desires the co-operation of her male partner, she
informs him of it." n270 William McLaury similarly advised husbands to
"take a lesson from the lower animals, and not coerce or over-persuade,
but await the wife's invitation at this time." n271
[*1454] Marriage manuals also argued that women should control their
husbands' sexual access because wives would have to do the work of bearing
and nursing any children conceived. Grounded in a gender-specific
appreciation of the work that women performed, this argument did track the
predominant feminist claim for a wife's right to her own person. The
feminist reformers focused on the work of raising children, identifying it
as the most time-consuming and taxing part of motherhood. The prescriptive
literature spoke about the physiological aspects of reproduction
(childbirth and lactation), a form of labor that was perhaps easier for a
popular audience to recognize as onerous work. John Cowan explained that a
wife needed the right "to her own person-- the right to deny all
approaches, save and only when she desired maternity," n272 because she
bore all of the risks of gestation and childbirth: "the pains, the
troubles, the heart-burnings, the sickness, the danger of premature
death." n273 "Justice and reason dictate," Nicholas Boyd agreed, "that she
who feeds the unfolding germ with her very life-blood, endures the pangs
of travail and nurses the babe at her own breast, should be left to decide
freely, without compulsion or entreaty, when she is ready to undertake the
holy office of maternity." n274
[*1455] Finally, the postbellum prescriptive literature's last moral
argument in favor of voluntary restraint warned husbands that subjecting
an unwilling wife to marital intercourse meant treating her like a
prostitute, a fundamentally immoral and degrading course of action. As
this commentary repeatedly explained, prostitution could exist inside
marriage under essentially the same terms on which it operated outside the
marital relation. n275 When feminists made this point, they used it to
draw attention to women's socioeconomic dependence on their husbands and
to indicate how this inequality hampered women's ability to refuse marital
intercourse. n276 The prescriptive literature took a somewhat different
tack: These writers argued that the essence of prostitution, inside
marriage and out, was a sex act in which the man used the woman simply to
satisfy his sexual desire, without any attempt to modify his sexual
demands and without any concern, more generally, for the woman's welfare
or state of mind. Eliza Duffey described wives "who feel that they bear
the brand of the prostitute within their souls, because they are forced to
yield their bodies unwillingly to gratifying that which they can regard in
no other light than as a selfish lust, hallowed as it is by no mutual
desire, nor exalted by self-forgetting impulses." n277 As an article
entitled Prostitution Within the Marriage Bond concluded, "marriage, home,
and posterity are alike dishonored when women are forced to submit to
sexual abuses which are revolting to their souls." n278 "He is an ill
husband," Sylvanus Stall agreed, "that uses his wife as a man treats a
harlot, having no other end but pleasure." n279
The prescriptive literature supplemented these moral claims against
marital rape with a series of physiological arguments that made clear that
the injury caused by marital rape was not limited to wives. This
literature warned that the practice of marital rape actually endangered
the health of [*1456] its male perpetrator. It also indicated that the
physiological injury that marital rape inflicted on women and the children
they unwillingly bore inevitably redounded to men's material, emotional,
and dynastic detriment as husbands and fathers. Nineteenth-century
feminists, demanding a woman's enforceable right to her own person,
focused on the injury that marital rape caused women. Prescriptive
writers, hoping to appeal to the self-interest of husbands, explained the
physiology of marital rape in much more male-centered terms than those
feminists employed, n280 using their own health claims to establish their
own (male-centered) case for voluntary restraint.
In contending that husbands put their own health at risk when they
subjected their unwilling wives to marital intercourse, prescriptive
writers built on a widespread understanding that a man could endanger his
prospects by expending sexual energy. Many articulate Americans in the
nineteenth century envisioned the male body as a closed energy system and
sexual activity as a taxing drain, so that the outlay of sexual effort
would leave a man physically weakened and with less vigor to devote to
intellectual, economic, and moral pursuits. This presupposition was
endorsed by leading medical professionals, n281 popular guides to men's
health, n282 and even some of the utopian experimental communities of the
day, which taught their male followers to avoid sexual climax. n283
[*1457] The prescriptive literature on marriage contained analogous
warnings about the still more severe physiological consequences for men
who had marital intercourse without their wives' consent. Dr. Cowan issued
one of the most complete accounts of the potential dangers. "If the
husband demands his rights from the wife, who only accedes through dread
of consequences," he warned, "the effect on the man's brain and nervous
system is very little different from that produced by self-abuse." n284
Indeed, Cowan elaborated a progression of symptoms with starkly
debilitative consequences: "a general weakness of the nervous system;" the
"inability to promptly digest ordinary food;" "a weakening of the joints,
and especially the joints of the knees, a softening of the muscles, a want
of strength, and a motion of an unsteady, dragging nature, differing so
noticeably from the springing, strong, elastic carriage of the continent
individual;" "dyspepsia;" "general debility;" "consumption;" "weakened and
impaired" memory; "disordered vision;" "impaired" hearing; and "paralysis
of the lower extremities." n285 Henry Clarke Wright went so far [*1458]
as to suggest that "intemperance, war, slavery, unsuitable food, dress and
habitations, exposures to heat, cold, and excessive toil" had historically
been less dangerous to the health of the male population than "uncalled
for and unwarranted" marital intercourse. n286 Duffey made the intent of
such health advisories perfectly explicit. Even if a husband was too much
of a "sensualist" to consider moral arguments or the interests of anyone
but himself, the consequences for a man's own health--"diminished
strength, diminished nervous force, and diminished mental powers"-- were
"sufficiently serious for men to pause, at least, in their selfish course,
and consider a little." n287
The prescriptive literature also described the marital disfunction,
financial strain, and household disorder that would come to pass if wives
were physiologically damaged by unwanted marital intercourse, explaining
women's welfare in terms of their husband' s self-interest. These tracts
reported that undesired intercourse was devastating to a woman's health,
even putting aside the risks involved in gestation and childbirth.
Augustus Gardner, for instance, advised men that just one night of excess
could have lasting consequences. Unless a wife retained control over her
person on her wedding night, "permanent disorganizations," "uterine
weakness with its whole train of nervous sympathies," were likely. n288
Here again, the marriage manuals relied on a wider medical and
prescriptive discourse, one that located women's physical and
psychological vulnerability in their reproductive and sexual capacity.
Most notably, doctors in the latter half of the nineteenth century were
preoccupied by the increasing number of middle-class, urban women stricken
with "hysteria," [*1459] a newly discovered medical condition that
manifested itself in pain, paralysis, chronic fatigue, and general
"nervousness." n289 Medical science could discover no organic basis for
hysteria, but physicians speculated that its predominance reflected an
emotional instability and physical weakness inherent in women's nature.
n290 Many doctors thought, more specifically, that the onset of hysteria
was linked to a woman's reproductive cycle and that women with a history
of sexual excess were far more likely to fall victim to the disease. n291
Notwithstanding such insights, physicians could devise no reliable cure
for hysteria; the victims' families were often faced with medical bills of
mounting size and disruptions of indeterminate length. n292
The prescriptive literature's description of what happened to wives
subjected to unwanted marital intercourse, which included both verifiable
somatic ailments and reports of the sort of "nervous weakness" associated
with hysteria, resonated with widespread popular awareness of the hysteria
phenomenon. According to these popular experts on marriage,
husbands--perhaps without even realizing it--were making their wives
pathologically "weak and nervous" and imposing upon themselves "large
financial outlays for medical advice and attendance." n293 Whenever a
husband did not permit his wife to regulate their marital intercourse, the
woman's "tender, delicate organs of generation" were prone to "become
inflamed, and ulcerate, and render the woman an invalid." n294 ""Direful
diseases, insanity and consumption'" were the usual result. n295 Stated
most bluntly, these experts warned that husbands intent on claiming their
"legal [*1460] right" were "destroying and oft-times murdering their
wives" and, with them, their marriages. n296
The physiological dangers confronting the children that these wives
unwillingly conceived were hardly less severe. In this context, too, the
prescriptive literature advised husbands that they would ultimately bear
the cost of the injury they inflicted through marital rape, in this case
through a diminution in the quality of their offspring. Like the leaders
of the woman's rights movement, n297 prescriptive writers in the latter
half of the nineteenth century contended that acquired characteristics
were inheritable. This meant that a wife's despair about her pregnancy
would be forever stamped on her--and her husband's--child. Wright warned
that when a wife became "a mother from necessity rather than from choice,"
her child would "partake of her degradation." n298 "Developed in joyless,
lifeless imbecility, or intense anguish," it would be "born an idiot, or
without sufficient vital force to develop it into life with the ordinary
energies and faculties of a man or woman." n299 The child would also be
permanently marked by his father's base carnality in forcing marital
[*1461] intercourse. "Witness," Cowan observed, the thousands of
children born predisposed to be "the idiotic, the weak, the diseased, the
drunkards, the gluttons, the debased." n300 These children, Alice Stockham
elaborated, were endowed before birth "with lustful passions and morbid
appetites." n301 Benjamin Flower similarly concluded that the "children of
lust," born to women whose husbands refused to recognize their "rights and
desires," could never rise much above the manifest qualities of their
fathers; they were destined to fill "prisons and insane asylums."
n302
2. Manly Self-Restraint and Self-Interest
The marriage manuals and health guides of the second half of the
nineteenth century offered an extensive account of the injury that marital
rape inflicted, on husbands along with their wives and children. But this
literature did not proceed to advocate legal reform. Unlike the
nineteenth-century feminist movement, it accepted a husband's right to
determine the terms of sex in marriage. The prescriptive literature
described the harm that marital rape caused in order to set the stage for
the presentation of strategies designed to encourage husbands to refrain
voluntarily from exercising their admitted legal prerogatives. Having
recognized a husband's sexual entitlement, these strategies appealed to a
man's self-interest explicitly and without apology. Prescriptive writers
acknowledged that a husband's conjugal restraint would benefit his wife,
but hastened to reassure their male readers that voluntarily ceding
control over marital intercourse would always strengthen and solidify a
husband's power and position in his family. Their arguments for voluntary
restraint were directed at a man's self-esteem and his property interest
in his wife's welfare. Storer, the leader of the anti-abortion movement,
offered the quintessential explanation for his recommendation that
husbands no longer subject their wives to unwanted intercourse,
characterizing a wife's improved health and longevity solely as an aspect
of her husband's well-being:
And here let me say, that I intend taking no ultra ground; that I am
neither a fanatic nor professed philanthrope; and that in loosing, as I
hope to do, some of woman's present chains, it is solely for professional
purposes, to increase her health, prolong her life, extend the benefits
she confers upon society--in a word, selfishly to enhance her value to
ourselves. n303
[*1462] Much of the prescriptive literature evoked similar themes,
albeit in somewhat less blatant and extreme form.
A number of writers proposed that a husband think of voluntarily ceding
control over intercourse to his wife as the best possible manifestation of
manliness, a way to confirm and display his noble character. This was a
particularly powerful approach because it connected to an enormous body of
existing sentiment which insisted that the key characteristic of
successful masculinity was self-restraint in the face of strong
temptation. The contention was especially prominent in discussions of male
sexuality, which simultaneously recognized the fierce sexual desires of
young men and urged them to direct their energy to matters intellectual
and economic instead. n304 Reformers in other arenas, however, also
profitably relied on the prevalent association between ideal masculinity
and self-restraint. Activists seeking to change white America's initially
cavalier attitude toward the lynching of African-American men in the
South, for instance, effectively depicted lynch mobs as lustful,
passionate, undisciplined, and accordingly unmanly. n305
In the latter half of the nineteenth century, prescriptive writers brought
the weight of this understanding of masculinity to bear on the question of
forced sex in marriage. Boyd emphasized that "it is for woman to determine
when (and when only) the closest relations may be assumed," by reminding
husbands that "it is the part of a true man to render instinct and desire
wholly subject to reason and conscience." n306 Indeed, he compared a
husband's sexual desire to a formidable racehorse that needed to be broken
by masculine human will. "If a mettlesome young blood-horse becomes your
property, do you let him tame you and drive you?," Boyd asked. If a
husband did, "such failure would betray weakness and lack of manhood. Just
so with regard to the amative propensity; you are to get the upperhand and
keep it. Your manliness is shown when you possess yourself and master
passion, not when passion overpowers and possesses you." n307 Duffey
seconded the idea that "true manliness" in a husband entailed "a wise
restraint of the passions for his [*1463] wife's sake." n308 As Wright
also explained, "human law and custom" gave the husband complete authority
over marital intercourse, but a man who was "pure, honest, noble, manly"
would never "demand[ ] sensual gratification, against the wishes of his
wife." n309
Many authors also counseled husbands that ceding control over marital
intercourse was the only way to preserve the enormous personal benefits of
marital love, happiness, and harmony. "The first great requirement
necessary in those whose desire is for a happy and lovable married life,"
Cowan advised, was that it "be allowed by the husband that with the wife
should rest the question as to the time when she wished to accept the
sacred trust of maternity." n310 Where a wife was reduced to "loathing
submission," William Goodell agreed, "love and affection changed into
aversion and hate." n311 McLaury took pains to make clear to husbands that
exercising their marital rights would simply produce "morose, angular, and
disagreeable" wives; "peaceful rest" only blessed marriages in which the
husband allowed his wife to determine the terms of marital intercourse.
n312
On a related note, the prescriptive literature promised husbands that
their voluntary restraint would ultimately lead to more pleasurable
marital intercourse, making a husband's self-interest in his wife's
welfare clearer still. Duffey predicted that a husband who continued to
court his wife's affection after marriage and wait for reciprocation would
find "greater delight" in a "monthly marital conjunction" than a selfish
sensualist could obtain from "daily or semi-weekly excesses." n313 A
husband, she wrote, "will have only himself to blame, if he is bound all
his life to an apathetic, irresponsive wife." n314 Cowan, a less elegant
if more direct writer, surmised that "nearly all women ..... who are used
by their husbands simply as chattels ..... lie passive and motionless."
"As to the possible pleasure to him of such a union," Cowan suggested that
a husband "might as well [*1464] practice solitary indulgence." n315
Stall agreed that a man's exercise of his marital rights would always be
self-defeating in sexual terms. It would only render his wife "incapable
of marital pleasure, and also render[ ] her incapable of bringing to him
the satisfaction which he seeks." n316
Even outside the woman's rights movement and the domain of the free
lovers, the question of marital rape was hardly unthinkable or unspeakable
in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The popular prescriptive
literature agreed with feminists, publicly and at length, that marital
rape inflicted severe harm. But feminists made a rights claim putting
forth women's interests, as distinct from and defined against the
interests of men. They wanted a wife to have the legal right and
socioeconomic ability to refuse her husband's sexual demands against his
will, recognizing that voluntary concessions were an unreliable defense
against potentially recalcitrant, dangerous, and selfish husbands. The
popular prescriptive literature, in contrast, did not situate its
opposition to marital rape in an analysis of women's subordination, and
did not support giving women enforceable rights against men. It left
decisive control over marital intercourse in the husband's hands, to be
exercised in his own interest as he saw fit. Popular prescriptive writers
promised that the interests of husband and wife coincided on the issue of
marital rape (although one could deduce from their descriptions of
contemporaneous marital relations that many husbands had been slow to
recognize that fact). The prescriptive account of the injury that marital
rape produced focused as much attention on the costs to husbands as wives.
Yet it was clear which party to the marriage would prevail when marital
mutuality broke down.
[...]
C. The Lessons, and the Promise, of History
Despite the availability of this dramatic record of injury, the modern
feminist attempt to explain the marital rape exemption in terms of the
divergent, even antagonistic, interests of husbands and wives has not been
particularly effective. In part, the consensual account of the history of
marital rape, now accepted by supporters and opponents of the exemption
alike, helps explain the success of the exemption's modern defenders. The
proposition that the marital rape exemption serves the shared interests of
husbands and wives is likely to appear more reasonable, even
commonsensical, if one approaches the exemption with the assumption that
it has long been the subject of consensual agreement between men and
women. That proposition would be more difficult to maintain if the
historical [*1499] contest over marital rape, in which feminists
vociferously opposed a husband's conjugal prerogatives as the ultimate
foundation of women's subordination in marriage, were widely known. As
this Article has revealed, the marital rape exemption did not survive into
the twentieth century because it lacked opposition or because no organized
cohort of women thought that the exemption operated to the benefit of
husbands but the great detriment of their wives.
Still, it would be implausible to suggest that the present legislative
commitment to preserving some substantial form of the marital rape
exemption, and the judicial decision to not intercede under the Equal
Protection Clause, would instantly collapse, if the historical struggle
over marital rape became common knowledge. If the fate of the
nineteenth-century campaign against a husband's conjugal prerogatives
illuminates anything, it is that society's reluctance to acknowledge that
marriage is a potentially antagonistic and dangerous relation by giving
women legal rights against their husbands is long-standing,
well-entrenched, and extremely resistant to feminist opposition,
especially where marital sex and reproduction are directly implicated.
Even the nineteenth-century prescriptive authors who expounded at length
on the harm that marital rape was inflicting on wives were unwilling to
translate that social recognition into support for granting women legal
entitlements. Where feminists made a rights claim advancing women's
interests as they were distinct from and defined in opposition to those of
men, the prescriptive literature put forth a series of suggested
strategies for marital harmony and happiness. Authoritative legal sources,
in turn, absolutely refused to alter a husband's exemption from
prosecution for raping his wife. After a half-century of writing and
advocacy (feminist and otherwise) exploring sexual abuse in marriage, the
only change in the legal status of marital rape consisted of a marginal
amelioration in the terms on which divorce was available to (privileged)
women.
Phrased another way, then, one reason that people are so attracted to the
consensual account of the history of marital rape in the first place is
that we greatly prefer to envision marital relations as loving, mutually
supportive, and harmonious, rather than loathsome, abusive, and
conflict-ridden--even though, as a practical matter, we encounter evidence
all the time that the latter state of affairs characterizes some
relationships. That cultural denial helps explain, for instance, the
studies finding that even people who know current divorce rates believe
that the possibility that they will divorce is negligible and fail to plan
rationally for the contingency. n462 The contemporary defense of the
marital rape exemption is one [*1500] of the most conspicuous, if
bizarre, expressions of this phenomenon. Modern courts, lawmakers, and
commentators are never more anxious to expound upon the wonders of marital
love, trust, intimacy, and respect than when a husband's freedom from
prosecution for raping his wife is at stake.
The cultural need to understand marital relations as consensual and
harmonious also helps explain another phenomenon of approximately the last
quarter-century. n463 During this period, dozens of states revisited their
marital rape exemptions, but decided to retain them in substantial form
nonetheless. One result of this review was that states modified the scope
of their exemptions. n464 Another result was that virtually every one of
these states rewrote its marital rape exemption in gender-neutral terms,
n465 in contrast to the explicit and enthusiastic gender-specificity of
the common [*1501] law formulation. n466 This latter, linguistic change
has almost no practical consequences, given the accuracy with which one
can predict that marital rapes will be committed by husbands on wives.
n467 But as a matter of modern equal protection doctrine, it is very
important. Statutes that explicitly classify by sex are automatically
subject to heightened scrutiny under the Equal Protection Clause, which
relatively few statutes have managed to survive. n468 Once a statute has
been made formally gender-neutral, however, it is subject to heightened
scrutiny only if a plaintiff can establish the equivalent of legislative
malice: that the gender-neutral statute was enacted "at least in part
"because of,' not merely "in spite of,' its adverse effects upon" women.
n469 This is precisely the sort of malignant motivation that is least
likely to be uttered in the constitutionally conscious age in which we
live. So, as a practical matter, modern marital rape exemptions are
subject to rational basis review. Although a small number of state courts
have found exemptions unconstitutional on a rational basis analysis, n470
a marital rape exemption is likely to survive this relatively [*1502]
unrigorous level of constitutional scrutiny, which asks only whether the
legislature has articulated one reason for the exemption that the court is
willing to accept as rational. n471
Modern feminist critics, including most prominently Robin West, have
provided an excellent doctrinal analysis of the status of gender-neutral
laws under contemporary equal protection doctrine, and explained the
difficulties that the modern feminist campaign against the marital rape
exemption has encountered as rooted in the inadequacy of that doctrine.
n472 But feminists have not devoted nearly as much attention to the
question of why the Supreme Court might have chosen to privilege
gender-neutral laws in the first place, and whether there is something
more behind the states' move to gender-neutral marital rape exemptions
than a desire to survive constitutional scrutiny. The fate of the
historical struggle over marital rape, and the nature of the modern
arguments put forth in the exemption's defense, suggest that the focus on
gender-neutralization is tapping into a larger cultural story about
mutuality in relations between the sexes, particularly in marriage.
The effect of the current equal protection doctrine on gender-neutrality
is to treat men and women as occupying interchangeable roles, in all cases
except where the text of the statute or explicit legislative statements of
malicious intent force the court to do otherwise. It is a doctrinal
methodology for disregarding evidence about gender-specific consequences
that suggests the possibility that the interests of men and women may be
unaligned, differentially affected, even antagonistically opposed to one
another, and not interchangeable at all. Marital rape [*1503] exemptions
are not the only statutes with disproportionate consequences for women to
have undergone recent revision into a gender-neutral idiom. Child custody
n473 and alimony laws n474 are now almost uniformly gender-neutral, and
wife beating statutes now regulate "spousal abuse." n475 Indeed, this
impulse substantially predates modern equal protection law: State
interspousal tort immunity doctrines, first developed when married women
gained the right to sue in their own names in the middle of the nineteenth
century, were phrased in gender-neutral terms from the outset. n476 Yet
the strength of the yearning to insist within the law that the interests
of men and women always harmoniously coincide is nowhere more apparent
than with the marital rape exemption, where the sex-specificity of the
underlying conduct and injury is extraordinarily pronounced, but equal
protection doctrine nonetheless treats husbands and wives as though they
occupy unassigned positions.
[*1504] All this indicates that there are deep-seated reasons why the
course of the modern effort against marital rape importantly resembles
that of its nineteenth-century predecessor, where feminists campaigning to
unseat a husband's conjugal prerogatives had much less of an impact on the
law than they sought, or won elsewhere. There is no easy path upon which
contemporary feminists might proceed, given the profound and long-lived
societal reluctance--particularly where marital intercourse and
reproduction are at issue--to formulate women's legal rights around the
understanding that marital relations are potentially antagonistic and
dangerous. There is, however, a very pertinent difference between the
arena in which the first organized woman's rights movement operated and
the contemporary environment, which suggests that the future fate of the
modern feminist campaign against marital rape need not track the
historical record.
In the latter half of the nineteenth century, the proposition that marital
rape inflicted severe harm upon married women was widely acknowledged. The
prescriptive literature described this harm in great detail. Authoritative
legal sources, moreover, never denied the proposition, and courts
occasionally remarked upon it themselves while deciding divorce cases
later in the century. Recall, for instance, that when a New Jersey court
wanted to underscore the weakness of Abby English's divorce petition for
sexual cruelty, it cited medical testimony that, "although there would be
pain" whenever English was forced to have intercourse, "a large proportion
of married women assent under exactly those circumstances." n477 In an age
that still accepted and endorsed a vast range of legal structures
explicitly subordinating women to men, this recognition of injury was not
enough to persuade either popular experts on marriage or lawmakers to
repudiate a husband's legal right to rape his wife.
The modern defenders of the marital rape exemption, in contrast, submerge
and deny the harm that the rule causes women. This has been good strategy
for a reason. It is much more difficult to justify the harm that marital
rape inflicts upon wives, and explain the absence of legal remediation, in
a nation now formally committed to women's legal equality and the undoing
of women's subjection at common law. n478 The historical record helps make
this harm concrete, revealing the ways in which it is buried by the
contemporary defense of the marital rape exemption. If the injury that
marital rape inflicts were more systematically put at issue, and arguments
presuming that marital relations never cause women harm were more
systematically resisted, it might be harder for the legal system to
continue to shelter a husband's conjugal prerogatives. Certainly, building
on this [*1505] excavation of injury would be a useful place for the
modern feminist opposition to marital rape to begin its work anew.
Footnotes
|