The medieval
manuscript “Le Chanson du Chevalier du Cygne et du Godefroid du Bouillon” tells
the story of the eleventh century Count Eustace and his wife Ydain, Yde or Ida,
who bore him three sons. She was considered unusual for insisting on suckling
her babies herself: “never did Countess Yde…suffer that one of her sons… should
be suckled by a waiting-woman.” When one boy was fed by another as she attended Mass, she
suffered an extreme physical reaction: “all her heart shook” and she fell on a
seat in pain, gasping her heart and calling herself a “poor leper.” Then, trembling
in a rage, with her face “black as coal with the wrath therein” this “saintly
and devout” Countess shook her son until he vomited up his feed. Today, this
might be considered abusive; then, it was an example of the behaviour that led
to her canonisation! However, not all medieval and Tudor women responded in
this way. Yde’s was a fairly extreme reaction and completely atypical of most
of her contemporaries’ experiences. Much of the surviving evidence suggests
they were keen to pass on their newborns to wet nurses as soon as possible.
Gerard David, Rest during the Flight to Egypt, ca. 1515, Museo del Prado, Madrid
Breastfeeding in medieval and Tudor times was
usually considered an inconvenience. While the nobility and upper class women’s
primary function was to produce healthy children, preferably sons, it was not
their responsibility to nourish them. That was the job of lower class females. One reason was that medical
advice warned against intercourse during lactation, as it “troubled” the milk
and might result in a new pregnancy which could cut off the milk supply to the
detriment of an existing baby. The church advised against it. Another primary
motive for this was the rapid restoration of a woman’s fertility. Breastfeeding
provides natural protection against pregnancy by delaying the onset of the
menstrual cycle, usually for between six months and a year. The
first milk, or colostrum, was initially thought harmful to a child but this
did not deter lower class women who tended to follow medical opinion that
babies should be fed immediately, for about a year. Also, it was free and convenient. Parish records taken from eight towns
and villages in Essex between 1530 and 1600, indicate that the average
conception interval between siblings was nine months, supporting the theory
that among these poorer families, babies were being breastfed by their mothers. In
Little Clacton, few babies were conceived during the months following a live
birth: the most common interval was between seven and twelve months, rising to
between one and two years. Only around three percent of all conceptions in this
group took place under three months since the mother’s lying-in, although the
record gives no indication of social class. This small percentage may have
represented to local noble families. At South Ockenden, a similar pattern
emerges, with subsequent conceptions occurring most between two and three
years, then between seven and twelve months: in only two cases out of 114 live
births, did conception take place in less than three months. This contraceptive
effect is ironic given religious teaching about the adverse effects of
copulation during lactation: in reality, many couples appear to have taken
advantage of it.
Francois Clouet, mid C16th- possibly Henri II's mistress Diane de Poitiers
For Queens,
the handing over of their baby to a wet nurse was not a choice. It was expected
that they would resume their duties as soon as possible. Anne Boleyn was
unusual in her desire to feed her daughter Elizabeth herself, considering children a
blessing: “the greatest consolation in the world,” although even she had to
give way to the pressure of her role and Elizabeth was set up in her own
establishment at Hatfield. It was common for royal babies to live in completely different palaces from their mothers. Queens and noble woman also had significant duties
to perform in terms of the management of the family estates, particularly in
the absence of her husband; this could involve everything from domestic management,
to receiving local supplicants of visitors, to the defence of her property, as
the letters of Margaret Paston prove in the middle of the fifteenth century. Two
of Henry VIII’s wives, Catherine of Aragon and Catherine Parr acted as regent in Henry’s absences during his French campaigns.
The
regular routine of breastfeeding would incapacitate an otherwise busy Lady and
prevent this, thus it was passed to an appointed female, either a household
appointment, or a woman in the vicinity. Many were recommended by word of mouth
or already known to the family, often having recently borne their own child,
although it had to be of the same gender as the nursling. Only the richest
could absorb such a nurse into their own family unit or baby’s establishment:
most were sent out of the home. In fact, during the first year of their life, most middle and upper class babies were sent out into the houses of strangers, whose suitability was judged
almost entirely on their physical appearance. The nurse was considered able to
pass on her characteristics to a child through her milk, so her diet was
supposed to be good and wholesome, without too much garlic or strong foods;
also she was to be of good, placid nature and healthy appearance, with clear
skin and no visible afflictions. In royal households, tasters were appointed to
check her food was not poisoned or too strong before she ate. Babies were often
sent out of cities or towns into the more “wholesome” countryside. Parents
sometimes contributed extra to support the wet nurse’s diet or lifestyle. The
doctor John Dee made additional payments towards such essential items as soap and candles for those
women suckling his children in the 1570s. Their vulnerability was also
recognised: arrangements were speedily made for the transference of children
from one place to another when illness or plague came close.
Sadly,
many cases are recorded in the parish registers of the death of such children,
listed either by name or as “a nursling child.” In the parish of Good Easter, Essex, the burial
of Henry Coot, a nurse child of Chelmsford, was recorded on April 18 1590 and
that of Thomas Watt on 28 November 1596. “Dorrothe Person, a nurse
child of London” was buried at Chelmsford on July 11 1550, while in the parish
of St Mary Magdalene, Great Bursted, Essex, the burial was recorded of an
unnamed nursling child in 1599 “being a man chylde of a saylors;” the names of the mothers and
the village wet nurses are not listed. Deservedly or not, by Elizabethan times,
wet nurses had a reputation for carelessness. Infant mortality was high anyway,
with the first year of life proving the most perilous but it has been estimated
that the death rate for babies sent out to be nursed was double that of those
fed by their mothers. The reasons for this may be complex: poor diet, health
and living conditions among the lower classes may be to blame, additionally,
wet nurses may have been dividing their attention and their milk, between multiple
charges. The stereotype of the exhausted or drunken nurse, falling asleep and “overlaying”
a child during feeding, found much support in late sixteenth and early
seventeenth century broadsheets and pamphlets, as did the trope of the wicked
woman, murdering infants in her charge whilst continuing to be paid for their
services.
Undoubtedly,
though, many wet nurses cared for other women’s babies diligently and with
affection. Folklore remedies had advice to offer the
breastfeeding woman; she should wear a gold or steel chain to stop milk
curdling and to aid her milk flow, she should sip milk of a cow of a single
colour, then spit it out into running water, swallow a mouthful of that water
and recite a charm. Receipt books drew on local herbs and ingredients
accessible in a domestic context to make poultices and dressings. Mallow and
the bitter wormwood, also used for weaning, were considered most efficacious. If
milk was lacking, or feeding proved difficult, babies were fed with animal milk, sucked from rags or through
drinking horns. When a mother was unavailable, ill, poor, dissolute or
deceased, the parish took charge of the infant’s nursing, drawing from what
must have been a pool of suitable women: it was important though, that the
child was supported at the location of its birth, for around a year. Boys were often suckled for
longer than girls though, possibly even up to two years, as they were considered less independent. After the year had
passed, such infants might remain with the nurse or else be placed in the
parish. Many children retained affection for those who suckled or nursed them,
later into life, remembering them with gifts or in their wills. During this
time, they may have little contact with their birth family, returning to their
parents’ home as a little stranger. Where such women were members of the
household, they then became governesses or assisted in raising the children in
other ways. Perhaps the most famous literary example is Juliet’s nurse, who has
been a constant through the heroine’s fourteen years and appears closer to her than
her own distant mother.
Joos van Cleve, The Holy Family, ca. 1515, Akademie der bildenden Künste, Vienna
In the past, the case has been made that this
attitude towards breastfeeding was one of the contributing factors towards
distance in parent-child relations in the past. This has been
successfully challenged by historians, recognising that it is anachronistic to
apply our pedagogical standards to the cultures of other centuries. In fact, medieval and
Tudor parents would have considered themselves to have made excellent provision
for their babies by arranging a suitable wet nurse and there are many cases,
such as John Dee and his wife, of great care being taken to provide for and
safeguard both. Modern attitudes towards breastfeeding may have changed but
ironically, they put the twentieth century breastfeeding mother closer in experience to
poorer women of the past.
" In the past, the case has been made that this attitude towards breastfeeding was one of the contributing factors towards distance in parent-child relations in the past. This has been successfully challenged by historians, recognising that it is anachronistic to apply our pedagogical standards to the cultures of other centuries. "
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure I understand this. Unlike cultural norms, which do obviously vary across place and time, basic infant psychology is surely fairly consistent. In a psychological context, separating infants from their mothers for long periods is very likely to negatively affect normal parent-child attachment. To say that isn't making a value judgment.
Great article, lots of food for thought!
Totally agree with your sentiment!
DeleteAgree, wholeheartedly. But in general, in theast century psychology, and specifically, child psychology, has illuminated so many areas where the honest needs of children were historically overlooked. This is just another example.
DeleteInteresting! Weren't the aristocratic women hiring wet nurses so their fertility could return quicker and thus produce more heirs to the throne??
ReplyDeleteSo interesting! I was wondering if I could have permission to share some of this information on my Instagram account (listing you as a reference of course)?
ReplyDeleteYou don't need the author's permission if you cite the author. When you use the work and don't cite without permission, thats when it's considered plagiarism.
Deletehave you by chance any historic sources for me about the kolostrum was considered harmful topic?? as the question aroused today among reenactment friends ..thank you!
ReplyDeleteVery interesting read. Can you provide your sources?
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThink of the benefits to your immune system, if breastfed by different "nurses". What doesn't kill you.....
ReplyDelete