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Syphilis

Page history last edited by rhian.davies@... 6 years ago

Syphilis

 

 

Speaking of Syphilis

 

Talk of syphilis in the eighteenth century was incredibly ambivalent, as evidenced by contemporary writings on the subject. What we would classify as syphilis in the twenty first century was addressed under a plethora of names in the eighteenth century, mirroring the period’s conflicting attitudes towards the disease. One of the most common and widely used terms for syphilis was “pox”. The majority of contemporary advertisements for the disease’s cure use this term in their address to the general public, suggesting that this was the name that the British public customarily associated with syphilis. This is supported by Samuel Johnson’s dictionary definition of "pox", as shown in Figure 1, when he aligns venereal disease solely with this word. The term “clap” also appears in the 1700s in accordance with syphilis, but often in reference to the initial symptoms of syphilis, which were understood as a precursor to the disease.

 

Figure 1: Definition of "pox" in Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language (1785) 

 

In medical circles, syphilis was most often referred to in a more generalised form as "venereal disease", therefore dissolving the distinctions between individual sexually transmitted diseases and implicating syphilis with unspecific vagueness. Despite its equivocalness, this term proved to be incredibly popular amongst medical professionals, as eighteenth-century medical documents, such as Marten's Treatise of all the Degrees and Symptoms of Venereal Disease and Wathen's Practical Observations Concerning the cure of the Venereal Disease by Mercurials, used this term consistently throughout.

 

Whilst other synonyms for syphilis, such as the “French disease” and the “foul disease”, did not feature as frequently during this century, they are useful for constructing an impression of how syphilis was handled. Labeling syphilis the “French disease” implies an attempt of distancing, whereby France is accredited responsibility and ownership of the disease on account of its origins, therefore dissociating it with Britain and its inhabitants in the process.

 

In eighteenth-century literature, syphilis was occasionally awarded the epithet of “foul”. Pamphlets, advertisements and fictional writings all evidence this term for the disease, emphasising the extent to which syphilis has earned this reputation of a loathsome and detested disease. Undoubtedly, the fact that the spreading of syphilis was so inherently linked to prostitution and that it was widely understood that the disease was contracted though intercourse, contributed to the appropriation of this term. Syphilis' associations with prostitution and sex polluted its image with notions of shame, debauchery and promiscuity, causing the disease to be looked upon with much contempt.

 

Perhaps syphilis' most interesting pseudonym was "the secret disease", pertaining to one of the most prevalent socially constructed views of the disease in the eighteenth century. 

 


 

The Secret Disease

 

Advertisements promoting cures for syphilis appear to be most explicit in their construction and perpetuation of the disease’s secret nature. These advertisements, which featured in pamphlets, journals and newspapers, were displayed in coffeehouses, windows and on signboards across the nation. As evidenced in Figure 2, they were often peppered with words pertaining to the disease’s cure, such as “elixir” and “ointment". The use of such jovial and ambiguous language, as opposed to words grounded in scientific study, implicates the disease with a playful mystique that serves to downplay the true severity of the disease, therefore assuring the sufferer that their affliction can be easily remedied if they purchase the cure advertised. The advertisement shown in Figure 2 is also inundated with words championing a speedy recovery with the use of their remedy. This seems to have been a popular point of appeal that is implicated in many advertisements in order to entice the desperate sufferer, longing for a quick reversion. Indeed, with so much focus awarded to how quickly it takes effect, there appears no need to mention what the "famous" pill contains. Offering no insight into the ingredients of their product, these so-called doctors used notions of secrecy to their advantage by perpetuating mystique. The disease's secret nature was therefore played upon by doctors, who wanted to avoid listing the true contents of their pills for fear they would be caught out as quacks, using ineffective ingredients.      

 

                                                                             

Figure 2: Advertisement, The London Magazine or The Gentleman's Intelligencer, 10th July 1734                Figure 3: Advertisement from Parker's, The Practical Scheme Explaining the Symptoms and Nature of the                                                                                                                                                                                              Venereal Disease or Secret Disease (1725)

                  

  Many advertisements from the eighteenth century avoided using the term “syphilis” - or any terms that outwardly stated the nature of the disease - opting instead for the term “secret disease”, as shown in Figure 4. This term functions as an effective feature of the advertisement, appealing to syphilis sufferers too ashamed to face their condition. By capitalising on these notions of shame, advertisements such as these evoked a connection with the sufferer by promising to keep their secret. Perhaps the doctors advertising their cures were simply respecting the decorum of their time; the contemporary reader would not be able to stomach a reference to a disease so implicitly intertwined with sex.

 

 

                                               

                        Figure 4: Advertisement, The Grub-Street journal; Sep 26, 1734; 248                 Figure 5: Advertisement, The Telegraph, March 17, 1797              

 

The shame of those afflicted with syphilis is not to be downplayed, however. As the advertisement in Figure 3 shows, sufferers often strove to keep their illness a secret. The doctor who promises to employ a servant to "Carry any of these Books or Remedies Privately to whoever writes", is attempting to appeal to the sufferer’s fear of exposure. This advertisement reiterates the discretion of the doctor's service throughout, in a desperate bid to secure the reader's custom with the assurance of secrecy. Advertisements of this nature served to perpetuate the stigma surrounding the disease by suggesting that the condition ought to be handled in such a manner. Those that used services such as these were attracted by its promise to shield them from social ruin; having been discovered as a sufferer of syphilis would have aligned the sufferer with notions of promiscuity, proposition and degradation.  

 

 As these advertisements show, the shame of syphilis was expected to be felt by all sufferers. Women in the eighteenth century were, however, expected to carry a far weightier burden. One advertisement from The Telegraph, shown in Figure 5, captures the female’s expectation of shame most acutely. Appealing specifically to married women, the source tells its reader that they have valid reason to dread the “injurious consequences” of their disease and that their “tainted blood” must be remedied by medicine. Hoping to profit from women’s fear, the ominous tone of the advertisement, coupled with its accusatory message of tainted reputation, makes a successful marketing move. Most shocking is its emphasis on secrecy, despite acknowledging that it is the husbands who have first contracted the disease, thus alluding to one of the most common ways in which the disease was spread during the century; through sexual intercourse with prostitutes. Evidently, it is the wife who is to suffer the consequences of his actions and to submit to male prerogatives. Finally, when the advertisement promises to treat women sufferers with a delicacy “more particularly appropriated to the sex”, eighteenth-century attitudes towards women and their fragile states is made crystal clear. Whilst both husband and wife both have syphilis, it is the victim wife that will suffer the most.

 


 

Who had Syphilis?

 

Cutting through the classes

 

Figure 6: Extract from John Marten's A True and Succinct Account of Venereal Disease (1706)

 

Despite its affiliation with moral and social degradation, syphilis was not confined to England’s lower classes. The disease completely severed social demarcations, effecting all stratas of society with equal vigour. The True and Succinct Account of Venereal Disease written by John Marten, evidences one way in which syphilis was able to infiltrate all classes. As shown in Figure 6, a child born with congenital syphilis was able to transfer the disease to his wet nurse through breastfeeding. Presumably the wet nurse was of a lower class to the child, meaning that the disease was indeed capable of cutting through class distinctions. The nurse then transferred it to numerous other children whom she breastfed. Of course, this transferal worked both ways, as often it was the wet nurse who infected the child. This led to fears of lower class wet nurses infiltrating the intimacies of the upper class family and infecting their children. 

 

Children and Syphilis

 

Given that syphilis is a venereal disease, it is incredibly tempting to consider syphilis solely as a condition of the sexually active. Yet one must also consider other ways in which the disease was spread during the eighteenth century. As previously touched upon, congenital syphilis was a common way in which children procured syphilis, so naturally this became an epochal concern. In Daniel Defoe’s Moll Flanders, the ever-present threat of hereditary syphilis is expressed by Moll when she considers why it is she refused to accept a drunken customer. She asks,  

 

“How could he, if he had any Principles of Honour, abhor the Thought of giving any ill Distemper, if he had it, as for ought he knew he might, to his Modest and Virtuous Wife, and thereby sowing the Contagion in the Life-blood of his Prosperity?”

 

Once again the image of the infidel husband infecting the innocent wife is evoked, reiterating the problem of contagion within eighteenth-century marriages. This time though, the fear lies with expectant wives, who, unaware that they are harbouring the disease, run the risk of passing it onto their unborn child. Clearly this was a viable and prolific concern for mothers-to-be, who could do little to prevent contagion from occurring once they had been infected. The shred of hope that Moll clings to, is the belief that the man will act upon his principles of honour – as oppose to morality - and avoid transferring the disease to his wife and his children, (even if it is so that diseased descendants do not tarnish his good name). This masculine centric desire to uphold honour represented a nationwide anxiety relating to syphilitic children. Those that survived the ravishes of their hereditary disease were often shunned by their forbearers for tarnishing the prosperity of their lineage. Those infected often bore a lifetime of aliments consequential to the disease, such as deformation; an image of mankind that was a far cry from the century’s idealised vision of enlightenment.

 

Similar fears of congenital syphilis are expressed in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. In an attempt to teach the fundamentals of human corruption, evil and pain to the Houyhnhnm, Gulliver tells of sexual disease. In his rendition, sexual disease is a result of excess and indulgence that is specifically indicative of women.  He states, "Prostitute Female Yahoos acquired a certain Malady, which bred Rottenness in the Bones of those, who fell into their Embraces; That this and many other diseases, were propagated from Father to Son." Here, the mention of hereditary disease is indicative of contemporary anxieties concerning the spread of syphilis. The message is clear; uncontrolled female sexuality is to blame.  

 

Another way in which children in the eighteenth century came to procure the disease, was as a result of rape. Treating syphilis could be an expensive feat, given that advertisements often recommended an extensive course of treatment to avoid re-occurrence of the disease. When the money dried up, or when the insatiable disease refused to subside, desperation would set in and drastically horrific measures were sometimes taken. The account shown in Figure 7 illustrates how desperation compelled one sufferer to follow this illogical pursuit in order to cure himself, despite only hearing it to be true. Superstitions surrounding sexually transmitted diseases and virgins have been commonplace throughout history. Perpetuated by the secret nature of these "taboo" diseases, this belief continued to resurface in modern times. A relatively recent example of which would be the AIDS crisis.

 

Figure 8 also tells of a case in which a child is infected with syphilis on account of rape. Although the reasons for this child's rape are not specifically outlined in the account, this source is useful for understanding the extent to which children were affected by the disease. 

 

                                           

   Figure 7: Extract from A True and Succinct Account of Venereal Disease, 1737                                     Figure 8: An account of the trial of William Harding, 21st April, 1680

 


 

The Blame Game 

 

Prostitutes 

 

                                                          

                      Figure 9: William Humphrey, Squire Thomas Just Arrived (1778)  Figure 10: George Moreland, Laetitia, plate 5: The Tavern Door; Laetitia deserted by her                                                                                                                                                            Seducer is thrown on the Town (1789)     

 

These two images from the eighteenth century work in direct contrast to each other, empahsising the discordant attitudes towards prostitution. The engraving by Humphrey depicts the dangers of uncontrolled femininity, as the prostitute entices a visibly respectable man into the brothel. As syphilis was so tightly intertwined with prostitution during this century, the danger of the female body increases tenfold, with syphilis working as the absent referent within the construction of the erotisiced female. The etching by Moreland, however,demonstrates a far more empathetic attitude. Laetitia is not the instigator of debauchery; she is merely the product of poor circumstance. When we consider this image in regards to syphilis, it is the virile man who is initiating sexual contact, thereby relinquishing the female of any notions of intentional infection. Perhaps it is he who breeds the disease, lunging towards her in a preemptive transferal.    

 

It is undeniable that eighteenth-century prostitutes bore the brunt of the blame for the spreading of syphilis. An examination into the ways in which prostitutes were represented in contemporary culture helps in the understanding of why this is. The prostitute depicted in Figure 9 represents epochal fears that centre around the construct of the morally corrupt woman. When syphilis is injected into this cultural construction of the prostitute, an more sinister image is produced. Her body becomes an ambiguous site of danger and sexuality that emulates an erotic power. Men of the ruling class were often depicted as being utterly powerless to their seduction, as shown in Figure 9, as the upper class man is dragged into a brothel by several women. Therefore, when men of the upper classes were infected, they rarely incurred blame; it was the prostitute, who practiced vice and bred corruption into society. The enforcement of stricter laws regarding sex workers in Edinburgh during the 1700s serves to reinforce the gendered nature of the disease.

 

Whilst this unfavourable image of the eighteenth-century prostitute did rule popular opinion, a more humanitarian view of these women was emerging, which in turn altered the way in which the syphilitic prostitute was considered. As more people began to look upon prostitutes with empathy, less emphasis was applied to immorality as the source of the disease than had been the case in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. People seemed to understand how the disease could be acquired through circumstantial misfortune or accident, as oppose to their "sinful" ways. Nonetheless, the image of the diseased prostitute, deserved of her ill health remained alongside this progressive view, highlighting two discordant attitudes of prostitutes and syphilis that marked the century.  

 

Indeed, this empathetic approach towards prostitution was beginning to gain more and more traction during the eighteenth century. Walter Ruddiman penned an article entitled a Scheme for Extirpating the Venereal Disease in 1778, calling for the better treatment and a more humanitarian handling of syphilitic prostitutes. Urging his reader to do away with their prejudiced views of the polluted prostitute, he states, “upon the first appearance of infection, let her be secluded from her fellows, and put under the direction of an able and honest surgeon, who will do her justice”. Ruddiman’s proposal is that the government should take on a more active role in assisting all sufferers, and that brothels should be tighter regulated, in order to minimize syphilis’ spread.

 

This was, in fact, the opinion of few individuals in the eighteenth century. In 1724, the successful physician and satirist, Bernard Mandeville urged for the legalisation of public prostitution in order to staunch the spread of disease. Yet unsurprisingly, Walpole’s government was unresponsive to such a drastic proposal; clearly, not everyone was inclined to consider prostitutes with the same compassion as Ruddiman and Mandeville. Ruddiman, disillusioned by the unempathetic attitudes of the Whig government, makes the outlandish suggestion that they should enact a law that stipulates that “after a certain day, every person found infected with the venereal distemper shall be deemed guilty of felony”. Lapsing into satire, he evidences the growing sensibility of the century by implicating everyone effected, - irrespective of class - as sinners. His attempts to undo the affiliations between syphilis and debauchery by smoothing out class distinctions and addressing society as a whole, are knowingly futile. In this sense, his article seems to echo Swift’s A Modest Proposal, as a satirical piece that is not expected to be considered with an ounce of sincerity by the British government.

 

There was at least some understanding that the affected poor were in need of medical assistance during this period. The London Lock Hospital, which opened in 1747, was the first hospital established in Britain solely for the treatment of venereal disease. Moreover, the Lock Asylum, which was opened in 1787 and was intended as a refuge for infected women, showed that whilst eighteenth-century attitudes towards female syphilitic sufferers was incredibly ambivalent, compassion and sympathy was present within society and it was recognised that irrespective of class, gender and circumstance, treatment was essential. Figure 11 shows an extract from a paper written on the Lock Hospital in 1796, which serves to demonstrate this point most acutely. Whilst the account labels infected prostitutes as "an evil in a community" for exacerbating the spread of disease, it also urges for the public to have "compassion for the poor wretches themselves and love to society". From this, it is clear that whilst the blame for syphilis' spread was still pinned on the prostitute, a more empathetic and charitable attitude was prevalent. Therefore, a move towards the desexualisation of syphilis was made, but it was a minor progression; syphilis' association with uncontrolled female sexuality was too deeply embedded within the public's psyche.

 

Figure 11: Extract from An Account of the Nature and Intention of the Lock-Hospital (1796)

 

 

Married Couples

 

As previously mentioned, when syphilis was present within eighteenth-century marriage, the secret nature of the disease is made apparent. Whilst I have examined the ways in which advertising appealed to women's sense of syphilitic shame by encouraging them to keep their affliction secret, one must consider how husbands attempted to obscure the disease from their wives in order to protect themselves. When syphilis was transferred from husband to wife, it can be assumed that in most cases, it was as a result of an act of infidelity with a diseased prostitute. Therefore, it became the husband's imperative to keep their wives in the dark. Known in the eighteenth century as "the great imitator", syphilis was difficult to diagnose, given its multitude of symptoms. This meant that that husbands could dissuade their wives from thinking they had the affliction. In A Treatise of all the Degrees and Symptoms of Venereal Disease, the physician explains how he was approached by a couple, both suffering with the disease. He notes how the husband attempted to hide the true nature of the disease from his wife.

 

"...but finding the wife Ignorant as to the real cause... I enquir'd not so strictly, nor told them what my Opinion was as to their Distemper when they were with me together, lest it should stir up difference between them; the next Day when he came for the Medicines, I plainly told him their Cases were Venereal; but he (for fear, I suppose, that his Wife should know it), positively denied it".

 

This case serves to emphasise how husbands exercised deception in order to hide their infidelity. Like the doctor in the advertisement vowing to keep the wife's affliction a secret, this doctor practices discretion. Although he does not seem to encourage such secrecy, he does respect the husband's right to artifice by maintaining the illusion and allowing the wife to believe her symptoms were indicative of another disease. Here one can see the roots of modern day confidentiality between doctor and patient beginning to take hold. In other cases from the period, doctors actively promoted the husband's act of secrecy. Figure 12 shows an account by a doctor written in 1737, in which he admits to helping a man cure his and his wife's disease without her knowledge. The doctor "readily" offered him his assistance and boasted of how successfully they had conspired against his wife, "to this Day his Wife know no otherwise", therefore avoiding all blame. Whilst it may appear shocking that this doctor treated the wife without her knowing, this happened regularly in the eighteenth century. There are accounts of doctors issuing mercury (the treatment of choice for syphilis), to husbands so that they could administer the treatment at home and in secret. Lacing hot drinks with mercury appears to have been the most popular approach. Secrecy, of course, comes at a price. In order to receive confidentiality, a "generous present" was to be expected.  

 

                                                                                    

Figure 12: Extract from John Marten, A Treatise of The Venereal Disease (1737)

 


 

Signs of Syphilis:

 

In order to ascertain a deeper understanding of how syphilis was received in the eighteenth-century, it is vital to undergo an exploration into contemporary culture, specifically literature. Hailed as the century of consumer revolution, the 1700s witnessed a drastic growth in the output of newspapers, pamphlets, manuals and magazines. As syphilis swept the nation, it is unsurprising that it gained traction in the growing media scape, as medical documents became inundated with discussions about syphilis, its symptoms and its treatment. Whilst a medical fascination formed around the disease and syphilis became the topic of choice in non-fiction writings, in fiction, syphilis was confined mainly to the works of satirists. Whilst satirists such as Hogarth made explicit references to the disease in his works by implicating the characters in his engravings with noticeably marked skin, not everyone was as forthright. Signs of syphilis and venereal disease were often shrouded as vague allusions.

 

Whilst it is extremely pertinent to this investigation into eighteenth-century literature that we explore the instances in which syphilis transpires within contemporary literature, it is equally valuable to examine its absence. It must be recognised that syphilis - and venereal disease in general - is largely obfuscated by eighteenth-century authors, particularly within the novel genre. Whether or not this lack of literary evocation is as a result of loyalty to eighteenth-century values of decorum or due to growing notions of sentimentalism, it is certainly indicative of contemporary societal attitudes towards the disease. It is interesting to note how several contemporary novels that explore the lives of eighteenth-century prostitutes, such as Defoe's Moll Flanders, do make undeniable allusions to venereal disease, as previously mentioned. Yet these indications of venereal disease are still incredibly rare and are never made in direct reference to the leading female characters, which appears to strike a discord with the nature of eighteenth-century prostitution. Neither Moll Flanders, Roxana or Fanny Hill ever contract syphilis in their tales, despite many years of prostitution in a time and place where venereal disease was rife. These intentions could be due to a number of reasons, some of which have been mentioned above. But it must also be noted that perhaps these women are written as immune to the disease because of their concluding circumstances. Moll Flanders, for example, concludes with Moll's success, as oppose to her demise through destitution; because her life was not ruined by prostitution, she does not ever incur venereal disease. This theory would indeed align with the image of the unrepentant, immoral prostitute who contracts syphilis as punishment for her ways.   

 

Syphilis in fiction was instead most prominent within eighteenth-century satire, as previously stated. Nonetheless, references to syphilis and other sexual diseases were becoming increasingly infrequent, as the genre that is known for its refusal to operate within societal boundaries, seemed to apply its own limitations. For instance, Swift only directly addresses syphilis and its symptoms in one of his works, A Progress of Beauty. His satirist contemporaries, Pope and Gay, also sparingly allude to syphilis; clearly venereal disease was not a subject that satirists sought to ridicule. Perhaps its evasion can be attributed to changing attitudes concerning syphilitic sufferers, whereby a more humanitarian approach was adopted. This certainly seems to align with Hogarth's works, in which Moll Hackabout's affliction is presented as a product of unfortunate circumstance as opposed to retribution for her sins. Another reason for its obfuscation may be that the satirists themselves were suffering from venereal disease, which seems a likely proposition, given how widespread the disease was. One must also take into account the aims of the satirist when considering why venereal disease faded out of fashion. Walpole's government as well as the aristocracy took centre stage as the target of eighteenth-century satire. Venereal disease could not be used as effective ammunition by the satirists then, given that it was an affliction felt by all, from the aristocracy to the lower classes. Instead, it seemed to induce pathos. 

 

A Harlot's Progress, Hogarth (c. 1733)

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Figure 13: William Hogarth, A Harlot's Progress (c.1732), Plates 3, 5, 6

 

In plate 3, Moll Hackabout, having just risen from a busy night at work, sits perched on the edge of her bed. Sir John Gonson is seen entering her bedroom accompanied by an entourage of men, presumably entering to arrest her for prostitution. Several vials above Moll's bed as well as the caved nose of her maid implicate the scene with a feminized projection of syphilis, establishing the association between sinfulness and syphilis. Moll's arrest, coupled with her apparent syphilis appear as retribution for her sinful life as a prostitute. This plate, as well as the whole series, can be read in tandem with the official text, that functions on the understanding that the individual who chooses an immoral way of life will suffer with syphilis because of their sin. It seems inevitable that Hogarth's work should invoke a message concerning the dangers of the uncontrolled sexual behavior he depicts, given that this coupling of sin and retribution was widely practiced by his contemporaries; sexual deviance always came at a price. But Hogarth seems to be operating on several textual levels here. This series also represents venereal disease as working within a wider image of social corruption, where people who contract venereal disease are the victims of an exploitative society.

 

In plate 5, Moll is dying from venereal disease. Wrapped in white shawls, she is undergoing treatment for her disease in the form of fumigation, which was used mainly for the treatment of persistent ulcers in the nose, throat and mouth. Whilst an unknown lady steals from her remaining belongings, the real tragedy is the two arguing quack doctors who take centre stage. Still debating over the effectiveness of their medication, they have presumably taken Moll's money in an exploitative exchange for phony cures.

 

The final plate in the series depicts Moll's wake. Women crowd round her coffin, peeling back its top to see if there is anything worth taking inside; even after her death, Moll is being taken advantage of. To the left of the scene, a man with a collar gropes a woman beneath her skirts, spilling his drink in excitement. Below them sits Moll's son, bearing the spotted marks of congenital syphilis upon his face. 

 

Marriage A-la-Mode, Hogarth (c. 1743)

 

                                                                                     

Figure 14: William Hogarth, Marriage A-la-Mode, Plate 3: The Inspection (c.1743)

  

In the third plate of Hogarth's Marriage A-la-Mode, the Viscount attends a French doctor accompanied by an older woman and a younger girl. The black patch marring the side of his neck is an obvious indication of his venereal affliction, whilst the younger girl, dabbing at her mouth, seems to be suffering from ulcers procured from the same disease. The room in which they stand is inundated with macabre symbols, such as a skull, skeleton and embalmed body, not only signaling the eighteenth century's growing accustom to death, but also the fatality of the disease at hand. Whilst the younger girl appears mournful and somber and the knife-wielding older woman stands alert, the Viscount sits with a jovial and relaxed countenance. This scene arguably serves to accentuate the sexualisation of syphilis by making this gendered differentiation in attitude. The Viscount exhibits a decisively nonchalant attitude regarding his affliction, suggesting that men did not (or were not expected to) experience the same sense of shame that afflicted women did. His syphilitic symptoms appear to be worn as a badge of masculine virility. This aspect of the engraving also touches upon the issues of exploitation evoked in A Harlot's Progress, in which the lower classes, represented by the Viscount's younger mistress, are helpless at the hands of the ruling classes. 


 

Living with Syphilis:

 

The external and internal symptoms of syphilis are incredibly prolific, worsening at each stage of the disease. The external symptoms - which included ulcers and lacerations to the skin and eventual collapsing of the facial features - were of great importance and concern during the eighteenth century. For these reasons, it was widely considered the role of the surgeon to treat syphilitic individuals suffering from deformation. Yet those whose condition had not yet reached these proportions simply had to help themselves. Due to the inherently negative associations surrounding syphilis, most people afflicted were ashamed of contracting it. For this reason, the quest for concealment became nearly as crucial as the quest for a cure. Most sufferers set about fixing their face to remove all signs of syphilis from their body, using patches to disguise facial ulcers. Fortunately for the eighteenth-century syphilitic, they were able to manipulate this contemporary fashion statement in order to hide their condition.

 

Concealing the ravages of the disease was not incredibly easy, however, as its effects were often too detrimental to disguise. Swift's A Progress of Beauty works to debunk this process of refashioning, as Swift tells of Celia waking from her slumber without her guise of courtly make up. After exposing her true state with "Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes" (22), he states that no amount of reworking can restore her to her original state before the disease, "Two balls of glass may serve for eyes,/White lead can plasiter up a cleft;/But these, alas, are poor supplyes" (122). In making this reference to syphilis solely the business of women, Swift assigns the female body as the site where syphilis is debated visually. Moreover, by entering the private female sphere of the bedroom, the narrator insinuates that he is deconstructing myths of the female sex and working to expose the true, authentic female body. Clearly, the privacy of women was central to masculine speculation during this time. Similar notions are explored in his poem, The Lady's Dressing Room, when his narrator works to expose feminine beauty by once again entering the mystified female bedroom. From these two poems, it becomes clear that the female body that is presented to the masculine world is dictated by social order and that the absent body (which in both cases can be read as a syphilitic body) must be hidden from view, in order to keep in line with these expectations.

 

 

Figure 15: Extract from Jane Austen's Persuasion (1817)

 

Here is an example of an implicit literary reference to venereal disease. When "Gowland" is praised for its ability to remove freckles, the lotion reads as an ineffective product sold by a quack doctor to a syphilitic sufferer, the constant use of which, they are convinced will remove the visible signs of their affliction. The freckles are thus to be interpreted as a symptomatic sign of the disease. Not only does Austen's masking of syphilis emphasise the obfuscation of the disease within the eighteenth-century novel, it shows a tendency to sublimate the syphilitic body in literature and in society.  

 

 

The epic simile that punctuates the end of The Lady's Dressing Room, "Such order from confusion sprung,/Such gaudy tulips raised from dung" (144), works to align women and rotting waste - notions that are not too dissimilar from those evoked in A Progress of Beauty. This alludes to Locke's theory of association which transpired during the eighteenth century. Locke's theory also rings true with the unconscious association made between prostitutes and syphilis during this time. Syphilis became part of the constructed image of prostitutes, so that when these women were evoked, notions of sexual danger emerged simultaneously.   

 

 

"A night with Venus; a lifetime with Mercury" 

 

The most common treatment for syphilis in the eighteenth century was the application and consumption of mercury. Whilst salivation and fumigation were considered effective treatments for the disease, the administration of mercury to the skin or through ingestion was preferred. Salivation and fumigation, (which did often involve mercury), were time consuming and required prorogued stasis. The direct application of mercury, on the other hand, was quick; a tempting treatment for the entrepreneur, too committed to take time off work, and for the blue collar worker who could not afford to take time off work. Irrespective of class, status and wealth, mercury was applied to all. Whilst the severity of mercury poisoning was not fully realised during this century, a growing awareness of mercury's negative effects on health was beginning to take hold. John Hunter in his Treatise on Venereal Disease, argues that

 

"In many patients the bowels can hardly bear mercury at all, therefore it is to be given in the mildest form possible...many courses of mercury...would kill the patient if taken by the stomach, proving hurtful to both the stomach and the intestines, even when given in any form."  

 

J. H Smyth speaks in a similar vein in his 1771 Treatise on The Venereal Disease, when he writes that "a medicine that is so uncertain in its operation, can be by no means safe... violent acute pains in the head or limbs is frequently the result of taking mercury".

 

John Marten in his 1711 Treatise of the Venereal Disease promoted mercury as a "noble an excellent Remedy", but also stressed how it could "kill instead of curing", if handled incorrectly.   

 

People were not ignorant to its ill effects, as indicated by the sheer number of medical documents discussing mercury treatment. Whilst medical professionals debated over whether mercury should be applied internally, externally, or not at all, mercury continued to be used in treatments for syphilis well into the nineteenth century, simply because no other substance or method seemed to work as well and as quickly. A dice with death was clearly worth it for a clear bill of health. 

 

Interestingly, in January 2018, it emerged that the mummified remains of a woman buried in a Swiss Church were that of Boris Johnson's distant grandmother, who had been alive during the eighteenth century. The body, which was originally uncovered in Switzerland's Basel's Barfusser Church in 1975, was found to contain incredibly high levels of mercury, which limited the process of decay. Having been buried in expensive clothing and baring no signs of malnutrition, it is clear that the woman had been wealthy; even the most well-off individuals were unprotected by the ravages of syphilis. The sheer amount of mercury present in her body showed that she had undergone an extensive mercury treatment in response to syphilis, proving that this cure was used avidly by the higher-classes as well as the lower.     

 

 

The Quack's Cure:

 

As rates of venereal disease continued to soar throughout eighteenth-century Britain, so did the demand for a cure. Medicine, like the media, seemed to have fallen under the influence of commerce, as a medical marketplace developed and the beginnings of a London drug trade emerged. Moreover, Britain, unlike Austria and Russia, had weak regulations guarding the practice of medicine, meaning that one didn't have to be a medical professional in order to vindicate treatments and issue them to the public, (it was not until 1858 that a medical register was established). These two factors helped contribute to the rise of the quack doctor.  Derived from the Dutch word, quacksalver, meaning one who quacks about the virtue of his salves, the quack doctor capitalised on the unregulated medical marketplace, selling ineffective treatments for diseases that plagued the nation, such as cholera and syphilis. Profiting extensively from the syphilitic sufferer's desperate need to acquire a cure, being a quack doctor during the eighteenth century proved to be a lucrative profession.

 

In 1718, surgeon and physician, Daniel Turner published The Modern Quack, in which he identified five different types of quack in the hopes of helping the syphilitic sufferer to differentiate between a quack cure and an authentic cure. He advised that the quack doctor would attempt to conceal information from the patient regarding the disease or the cure, which does indeed ring true with the advertisements previously examined. He also claims that the quack doctor will only focus on the external or visible symptoms of syphilis, without addressing the root of the disease. Even with Turner's advisory words, identifying the quack doctor was not an easy feat. Isaac Kimber penned a poem in the London magazine in 1735, saterising quackery and the medical marketplace. Entitled Daffey's Elixir, the poem (as shown in Figure 16), is written in the style of a mock epic, which works to trivialise the eighteenth-century medical scene. The narrator appeals to the faculty to spare him being branded a "quacking bard" and to regard him with seriousness, reiterating how the boundaries between medical orthodoxy and medical heterodox became contested during this period. In true satirical style, the narrator presents his case in alignment with Turner's description of a quack doctor, who focuses on the external symptoms, "When the worn visage ashy pale betrays/...This mild restorative will health renew", and disguises the true origins of the cure with vagueness, "A known elixir whose extensive praise/To foreign climes...".       

 

Figure 16: Daffey's Elixir. London magazine, or, Gentleman's monthly intelligencer, (April 1735)

 

On a similarly satirical note, an article posted in the Edinburgh Amusement in 1778 discusses the benefits of quackery upon society. The aptly named article, A Modest Defence of Quacks and Quackery, humorously outlines the ways in which the circulation of quack advertisements function to assist every strata of society. The author references the growing output of printing when he suggests that quacks are supporting the economy by providing work and creating jobs, as well as assisting the government to accumulate money from taxation, "the advantage reaped by government from the duty of advertisements is very considerable". Whilst this work is clearly written in jest, it is useful in considering the ways in which syphilis, as a disease that attracted a considerable amount of attention from quacks, functions within the larger societal image. This article forces one to contemplate syphilis on a larger scale, and to consider the multifaceted fallout from the disease, such as the benefits reaped by the government, medical practitioners and the media.    

 


 

Annotated Bibliography:

 

"Advertisement." The Grub-Street Journal, no. 248, 1734, ProQuesthttp://0-search.proquest.com.pugwash.lib.warwick.ac.uk/docview/5851475?accountid=14888.

 

This source was helpful for confirming the usage of the term "secret disease" in the eighteenth century. The fact that this term was used in this advertisement forced me to consider its intention; I deduced that the term worked to placate the reader's shame and satisfy their desire for secrecy and privacy. It also made me think about how eighteenth-century notions of decorum might have encouraged the use of this term.   

 

 "Advertisement." The London Magazine or The Gentleman's Intelligencer, 10th July 1734 ProQuest. 

 

This advertisement was useful for investigating the methods that eighteenth-century doctors adopted in order to promote their cures for syphilis. The ways in which the advertisement promoted the remedy told me what it was that contemporary sufferers sought from a cure; a speedy recovery and reassurance that the disease was not fatal.     

 

A, Quack A. "A Modest DEFEMCE of QUACKS and QUACKERY." The Weekly Magazine, Or, Edinburgh Amusement, 1768-1779, vol. 42, 1778, pp. 174-175, ProQuest.

      http://0-search.proquest.com.pugwash.lib.warwick.ac.uk/docview/5477326?accountid=14888.

 

Whilst this article was not referencing syphilis directly, it was still extremely pertinent to my investigation. The source helped me to recognise how the spread of syphilis effected the larger picture and society as a whole. One example of this, is the way in which the printing press experienced a surge of demand due to doctors wanting to advertise their cures for syphilis and the increase in jobs a result. Clearly, syphilis had a "domino effect".   

 

Austen, Jane. Persuasion. Cambridge: Penguin Classics, 2011. ProQuest, Literature Online. 

 

Persuasion was useful for my investigation into the covering of syphilis' symptoms, as it confirmed that people in the eighteenth century relied on the regular application of creams in order to clear their face of ulcers and marks. It was also extremely important to my research, as it showed that not all references to syphilis were explicit allusions. The fact that the novel uses euphemisms that obfuscate to the disease suggests both a fear of syphilis as well as a disgust; the eighteenth-century novel was not an appropriate place to tall about syphilis.  

 

Defoe, Daniel. The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders. Cambridge: Penguin Classics, 2011. ProQuest, Literature Online.

 

Defoe's novel was helpful for seeing that syphilis was not only contracted through sexual intercourse; it could also be hereditary. It also indicated how male attitudes towards syphilis worked to prevent the spread of disease. Instead of fearing the contagion of his wife, the man fears the tarnishing of his family name as a result of congenital syphilis. Clearly there was an epochal concern surrounding this method of transferal because of lineage.        

 

Hogarth, William. A Harlot's Progress (c.1733). Accessed via:

      https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/a-harlots-progress

 

Hogarth's series helped to demonstrate the explicit reference to syphilis within literature, specifically satire. It showed how eighteenth-century attitudes to syphilitic women did not all concern condemnation and retribution; some saw sufferers as victims of circumstance and of the exploitative ruling class. 

 

---. Marriage A-la Mode (c.1743). Accessed via:

      https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/william-hogarth-marriage-a-la-mode-1-the-marriage-settlement

 

In a similar vein, this series confirmed how people viewed syphilitic sufferers as victims. Plate three proved to be particularly useful, as it showed differing attitudes towards syphilis on account of gender and class; the Viscount appears to adopt a different view of syphilis from that of the two females.    

 

Humphrey, William. Squire Thomas Just Arrived (1778). Accessed via:

    http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=1630057&partId=1  

 

Whilst this image was not directly related to syphilis, it helped to highlight eighteenth-century attitudes towards prostitution, which in turn assisted me in my understanding of why people blamed syphilitic prostitutes for the spread of the disease and why they were regarded as deserved sufferers. 

 

Hunter, John. A Treatise on the Venereal Disease. London: 1786. Historical Texts.

 

This source was incredibly useful for showing that there was a contemporary discourse surrounding the application of mercury to syphilitic patients. Hunter's concern regarding mercury treatment emphasises how there was an increasing awareness of its dangers during this period. His argument denying the internal consumption of mercury worked to show how there was varying opinions on the safest way to apply mercury; some believed that mercury consumption was not as detrimental as its external application.   

 

Johnson, Samuel. A Dictionary of the English Language. London: J. F And C. Rivington, 1785. Open Library.

 

This source helped to support my claim that the word "pox" was used in the place of syphilis during the eighteenth century. Because the word featured in Johnson's dictionary written in the 1700s, it can be assumed that this was a reflection of public opinion; most people would have associated this with syphilis. 

 

Kimber, Issac. Daffey's Elixir. London magazine, or, Gentleman's monthly intelligencer, 1732-1735; Apr 1735. ProQuest.

      https://search.proquest.com/docview/5330699/C954DC691347492APQ/92?accountid=14888

 

This mock epic not only supported the fact that syphilis was resigned to the realm of satire, it also showed the contention between verified medical practitioners and quack doctors. When the poem lamented the fact that no one would believe the speaker's credentials because of the rise of quacks, to me it suggested that finding an authentic cure for syphilis must have been difficult during this period. It's paring with Turner's work confirmed this.   

 

Lock Hospital, and Lock Asylum . Account of the institution of the Lock Asylum for the reception of penitent female patients when discharged cured from the Lock Hospital. An      account of the nature and intention of the Lock-Hospital ... the proceedings of the governors and the improvements lately adopted. N.p., [1796]. The Making of the Modern World. Gale      Primary Sources. 

     http://tinyurl.galegroup.com/tinyurl/6BCfV5 

 

This source proved useful for highlighting the ambivalence towards syphilitic prostitutes. The fact that it was written by a man conducting an investigation into Lock Hospital works to validate his interpretation, as he was working closely with the patients of Britain's largest and most prominent treatment centres for venereal disease. Therefore, I understand that his opinion was educated and informed.   

 

Marten, John. A Treatise of All the Degrees and Symptoms of Venereal Disease. London: J. Marten, N. Crouch, A. Bettesworth, P. Varenne, C. King and 3 others, 1708. Historical Texts.

 

I found this source particularly useful for my examination into not only the secrecy surrounding the disease, but the ways in which some doctors were implicated in the disguising of syphilis. This, coupled with another source, reiterated how people -husbands in particular - avoided responsibility of the disease. It was also interesting to note the doctor-patient confidentiality at play.  

 

---. A Treatise of the Venereal Disease. London: J. Marten, N. Crouch, A. Bettesworth, P. Varenne, C. King and 3 others, 1711. Historical Texts.

 

This source contributed to my investigation into the ways in which mercury treatments were discussed my medical professionals. It showed that whilst people were aware or suspicious of its dangers, they still valued it as the most effective treatment for venereal disease. Despite the fact that this source shared the same views and opinions with another source examined, it was useful for reiteration. 

 

---. A True and Succinct Account of Venereal Disease. London: J. Marten, S. Crouch, J. Knapton, P. Varenne, J. 1706. Historical Texts.

 

An extract from this source helped me to understand another way in which syphilis could be transferred. Whilst I had considered how congenital syphilis offered another method of transferal that was not grounded in sexual intercourse, I had not thought about the ways in which breastfeeding could also lead to contagion. This source demonstrated the spread of the disease between classes, suggesting an epochal concern relating to the fear of working class infiltration. It also proved insightful in another area of exploration, as it revealed how some sufferers pursued illogical remedies out of desperation.    

 

Moreland, George. Laetitia, plate 5: The Tavern Door; Laetitia deserted by her Seducer is thrown on the Town (1789). Accessed via:

     http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=1615598&partId=1&people=107167&peoA=107167-2-70&page=1 

 

This source was particularly useful when used in conjunction with Humphrey's engraving, as it showed differing attitudes pertaining to prostitutes during this period. This source showed that some people considered prostitutes in a more empathetic light. This works in tandem with discourses surrounding prostitutes and syphilis, as it suggests that prostitutes were circumstantial victims and undeserved of their disease. 

 

"News." Telegraph, 17 Mar. 1797. 17th and 18th Century Burney Collection, http://0-tinyurl.galegroup.com.pugwash.lib.warwick.ac.uk/tinyurl/62yVb1

 

This source was extremely helpful in illuminating eighteenth-century attitudes towards wives with syphilis. It showed me how advertisements approached syphilitic wives and persuade them to use their services by preying on feelings of female shame. It also confirmed syphilis' status as a gendered disease. 

 

Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 8.0, 22 March 2018), April 1680, trial of William Harding (t16800421-5)

 

I found this source useful for emphasising the extent to which syphilis affected all people, regardless of age. It served to show how not everyone who suffered from the disease was a sexual deviant and that some syphilitic victims contracted the disease as a result of horrific crimes. This suggests that the generalisation of syphilitic sufferers was extremely unfair. 

 

Parker, H. The practical scheme explaining the symptoms and nature of the venereal or secret disease. London, 1725. Historical Texts.

 

When looking at the secret nature of the disease, I found this advertisement promoting the privacy of its service to be invaluable. The extent to which the source emphasises the need for secrecy when obtaining a cure for venereal disease shows how strongly shame was felt by sufferers. By appealing to the sufferer's desire to hide their disease, the advertisement presents a successful case.    

 

"Scheme for Extirpating the Venereal Disease." The Weekly Magazine, Or, Edinburgh Amusement, 1768-1779, vol. 40, 1778, pp. 132-134, ProQuest. 

       http://0-search.proquest.com.pugwash.lib.warwick.ac.uk/docview/5570938?accountid=14888.

 

This article proved pertinent to my exploration into syphilis, as it demonstrated how negative views towards syphilis were not held by all and that some people did recognise the need for a more humanitarian approach.   

 

Smyth, J. H. A New Treatise on the Venereal Disease. London, 1771. Historical Texts.

 

This source was also used as part of my investigation into the use of mercury during the eighteenth century. Smyth seemed to express the most concern about the effects of mercury on the body in comparison to the other doctors studied in this section. It was interesting to see how despite this opinion, mercury treatments persisted. 

 

Swift, Johnathan. A Progress of Beauty. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958. ProQuest, Literature Online.

 

As this was Swift's only work directly alluding to syphilis and its effects, it seemed critical to my exploration. The most useful element of the poem was its aim to debunk the women's process of beautification. It exposed the fact that the syphilitic body was made absent by the sufferer, in an attempt to align their body with society's standards.

 

---. Gulliver's Travels. Cambridge: Penguin Classics, 2011. ProQuest, Literature Online. 

 

The reference to venereal disease in this novel was particularly helpful for my investigation into hereditary syphilis. It confirmed the gendered nature of the disease by specifying that it is the actions of the sexually deviant females that cause the spread of disease to their offspring. 

 

---. The Lady's Dressing Room. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958. ProQuest, Literature Online. 

 

Whilst only one line in The Lady's Dressing Room seems to directly refer to venereal disease, the poem was useful to look at in conjunction with A Progress of Beauty, in terms of the way in which it functions to expose the refashioning of women. It was also interesting to see how women were subjected to the speculative gaze of men, who wanted to infiltrate the female sphere and reveal the natural state of women, in this case, the syphilitic female body.

Another way in which children in the eighteenth century came to procure the disease, was as a result of rape. Treating syphilis could be an expensive feat, given that advertisements often recommended an extensive course of treatment to avoid reoccurrence of the disease. When the money dried up, or when the insatiable disease refused to subside, desperation would set in and drastically horrific measures were sometimes taken. The above account shows how desperation would compel the sufferers to follow illogical pursuits, such as having sex with a virgin, which they believed may cure them in an almost ritualistic way. Indeed, these acts of desperation fuelled by waning hope is evident of a mass mentality and thought process to be expected from an individual clinging to the hope of a cure. 

 

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