The Victorians on Sex, Syphilis, and Shame

Moral Panic

Fear, shame, and blame seem to have been the most prevalent feelings toward venereal diseases, and syphilis in particular. It was contracted by sexual activity, and it was incurable. The response from society held a very gendered narrative, a moral panic, in fact. Female sex workers in particular were demonized. Below we see a lithographic representation of syphilis—a deadly skeletal sex worker, approaching two unsuspecting clients.

One Night with Venus

Known for centuries, syphilis sported many names, but it always generated fear and horror. In Victorian England, it was simply “the pox” and was associated with the sins of lust and desire. Syphilis could lie dormant for years, then resurface. Rashes, ulcers, and rotting flesh led to organ and brain damage, insanity, and death. The only “treatment” was with poisonous mercury or even arsenic. Hence, the common phrase “one night with Venus, a lifetime with mercury”. Victorian scientists gathered thousands of illustrations and photographs of the infection, many now held by the Wellcome Collection in London. Despite its subject, the image below has an almost sensual, painterly feel to it.

William Hogarth’s Harlot

Of course, exploring sexual diseases in art was not a Victorian invention; they have been painted, sketched, and etched for centuries. Just before the Victorian period, the English painter and engraver William Hogarth featured syphilis in a number of his most well-known works. The Harlot’s Progress is a series of six works covering the life and death of Moll, an innocent country girl drawn into prostitution. In his engravings, we can see women with the facial lesions associated with syphilis or the velvet “beauty spots” used to cover them. Note also the powdered wigs to cover syphilitic hair loss. And in the final engraving, we see the inevitable death of poor dear Moll.

Male vs Female Desire

In the Victorian Era (considered as 1837 to 1901) peace and prosperity spread across Europe due to innovations in technology and economic stability.  However, societal and gender inequalities persisted. Victorian art teemed with images of sexualized women. The Victorian patriarch wanted to see nudes, and plenty of them.

These “male gaze” canvases were painted in classical or mythological settings to avoid censorship. Meanwhile, the real-life wife was expected to toil over more chaste and domestic chores. Victorian society liked its daughters and its wives to be virtuous—they believed unnatural female desire destroyed decent middle-class life. The image captures this perfectly, with a young woman, suddenly stricken with the realization that she is on the slippery slope to becoming a “fallen woman.”

The Fallen Woman

Although artists often portrayed the gentleman as the victim of scheming sex workers, some were willing to consider that a woman might also suffer. In these cases, the woman needed to be both beautiful and pitiable. The Pre-Raphaelites often portrayed the ills of urban life in contrast to the idyll of country life.

Below we see Found by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. See the sickly green face of a young country girl, seduced by the lure of the city, curled against a wall, hiding in shame. The girl is found by her farmer sweetheart, who is coming to market with a white calf tied to his wagon. But he is too late to save the girl from disgrace. The fates of the girl and the calf are sealed.

Found Drowned

And so from Found to Found Drowned. George Frederick Watts takes us to the final stage of the life of a fallen woman. The only noble option for a fallen woman is death. This river-soaked woman lies beneath Waterloo Bridge, a common site for suicides. She grasps a love-heart locket, perhaps from a lover? One single star flickers in the dark sky above her. The term “found drowned” was often used by coroners, rather than “death by suicide,” so that at least the poor woman might get a decent Christian burial.

An Epidemic

Syphilis was rarely listed as a cause of death in Victorian England, to save families from public shame. But it is thought that in this period, eight and a half percent of men in their mid-30s would have had syphilis. These men, who frequented brothels or had a secret “kept” woman, or who simply had multiple sexual partners, would bring a deadly disease home to their wives and children. It was not uncommon for doctors to conceal the cause of syphilis from infected wives, after all, the husband paid the doctor’s bills!

Societal Scandal

Although sexual shenanigans were usually a well-kept secret, sometimes the truth came out, as was the case with Liberal politician Lord Colin Campbell and his socialite wife, Gertrude Elizabeth Blood. Their story played out in the divorce courts, and newspaper reports were greedily consumed by the shocked public.

At the time of his marriage in 1881, Lord Colin was being treated for syphilis. He kept this from his bride-to-be and knowingly infected her. Gertrude suffered with her health as a result of the deception, but she did not get her divorce, just a formal separation, and she was ostracized by polite society. But this witty, intelligent woman was embraced by art and literary circles and went on to become a well-known writer. Lord Colin died of syphilis in 1895.

Soldiers, Sailors, and Sex

American artist James McNeill Whistler, perhaps best known for painting his mother, spent most of his career in England. The scene above shows sailors at a tavern overlooking the Wapping docks. A woman, probably a sex worker, lounges beside them. It was the impact of syphilis and other sexually transmitted infections on the British armed forces that finally made the UK and its government sit up and take notice. By 1864, one in four soldiers or sailors were absent from duty due to STIs. The panic led to a draconian piece of Victorian legislation, where the authorities decided that the “sanitary supervision of common prostitutes” was required.

The Contagious Diseases Act

The Contagious Disease Act of 1864 targeted women only. It allowed for the registration, arrest, and invasive medical examination of any woman suspected of being a sex worker. Women were rounded up and taken to police stations. If found to be carrying syphilis (or any other disease), they were forcibly confined to special medical institutions called “lock hospitals.” Any woman refusing to be examined could face six months of hard labor in prison. Action against the men, or advice on their sexual behavior, was not considered—was this state-sanctioned misogyny? Norwegian artist Christian Krohg explored this hypocrisy in his huge, life-sized painting (shown above), and later in a novel called Albertine.

A Parisienne Perspective

Over the Channel in France, we see a very similar story of forced inspections. However, one famous French artist took a more empathic view. Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec frequented (and sometimes lived within) brothels, and created dozens of intimate sketches, paintings, and posters showing sex workers going about their ordinary, everyday lives. In Rue des Moulins from 1894, we see women waiting to be examined by a doctor. The women stand and wait in resignation. With hunched shoulders, blank faces, and sagging skin, this is no erotic tease. Look at the face of the red-haired woman—her highly pigmented skin is likely syphilitic.

Kindness and Philanthropy

However, there were some who saw the harsh and cruel reality of Victorian double standards. Writer Charles Dickens set up and managed Urania Cottage, a refuge for fallen women. Aided by the radical philanthropist Angela Georgina Burdett-Coutts, they gave residents the chance to learn skills to help them start a new life. Discussing these women, Dickens stated that “society has used her ill and turned away from her.” Angela Burdett-Coutts (portrait above) used her immense fortune to fund practical help for those in need. She was the first president of the RSPCA and co-founder of the NSPCC, and her works stretched across the UK to Africa, Russia, and Australia.

Rights for Women

Meanwhile, in London, feminist and suffragist Josephine Butler set up the Ladies’ Assembly for the Repeal of the Contagious Diseases Act. Like Dickens and Burdett-Coutts, she believed that sex work was a socio-economic issue—if a woman has no money, no income, and nothing to sell, she will sell herself.

Butler claimed the forced genital inspection of women was essentially surgical rape. Butler was a clear advocate for the unheard voices of sex workers, who were labelled wicked, wild women. She toured the UK calling out leaders and politicians—a handbill from one of her 100 meetings is shown above. Over the next 20 years, public disapproval of the men exploiting impoverished women was growing. And finally, in 1886, the Contagious Diseases Act was repealed.

Inheritance

A few years later, the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch painted Inheritance. The canvas above shows a mother with a child in her lap, almost like a Mary and baby Jesus image. But the child has a large head on a thin, deformed body covered in a red rash. This is congenital syphilis, passed from parent to child. The mother’s face has the tell-tale mottled red skin. This bold painting provoked very strong reactions from the public.

Death, Disease, and Desire

But the fear of syphilis did not go away. Nor did the blame and shame game. The English artist Richard Tennant Cooper trained in Paris, witnessing the frivolity and sexual freedoms of the Belle Époque. But he also saw the carnage and terror of the First World War. The contrast was too much to bear. His works, when he returned to England, concentrated on diseases like diphtheria, leprosy, and tuberculosis. And, of course, sexually transmitted diseases. His paintings (shown above and below) depicting syphilis are very dramatic, continuing with the firmly held theme of temptresses and their monstrous diseases.

The Future

And so to today. Syphilis hasn’t gone away. Health organizations across the globe are seeing the alarming rise of something called “Super Syphilis.” 20 years ago, scientists thought they were on the verge of eliminating the disease. But today, breakdowns in public health care and the rise of antibiotic resistance have dashed those hopes. I wonder how our modern, contemporary artists will respond?