Sex, Syphilis & Society

Ah, Regency London - the era of empire waistlines, brooding viscounts, and syphilis. Yes, while Jane Austen’s heroines were busy sipping tea and fretting about marriage proposals, about one in five of their real-life counterparts in London had already contracted “the Pox” by the age of 35. Forget calling cards and croquet; sexually transmitted infections were the real social epidemic of the day.

The Martyrdom of Mercury, represented in a treatise of the venereal disease by John Sintelaer. 1709

The Venus diseases:

Syphilis was just the start of the party. According to Professor Simon Szreter, an esteemed historian and modern-day killjoy at Georgian dinner parties:

“The city had an astonishingly high incidence of STIs at that time. It no longer seems unreasonable to suggest that a majority of those living in London while young adults in this period contracted an STI at some point in their lives.”

In other words, if you lived in London and had a pulse (and any libido whatsoever), your chances of staying pox-free were slim. There was, unfortunately, no effective cure for syphilis until the 20th century, so catching it was like subscribing to a lifelong misery newsletter - with no unsubscribe button.

Even artists were in on the gloom. William Hogarth’s A Harlot’s Progress famously shows the tragic Moll Hackabout dying of syphilis after arriving in London and slipping (or being shoved) into sex work. Moral: never trust a man in a powdered wig promising a better life.

The death of Moll Hackabout, the fifth image from Hogarth's series The Harlot's Progress series of lithographs.

Viscounts & venereal woes:

If you enjoyed Bridgerton, you may recall season two’s Kate Sharma giving Lord Anthony Bridgerton the side-eye for his rakish past. Frankly, she had every right. With the sheer volume of disease sloshing through the ton, a libertine’s sexual résumé could very well double as a medical record. Were Lord Bridgerton an actual Georgian rake, he’d have about a 50/50 chance of being a walking biohazard.

A night with Venus - a lifetime with Mercury

Brothels, otherwise known as 'the great social evil,' were everywhere, much like gossip and bad breath. The high-end establishments - those frequented by powdered lords and cloaked ladies - were usually run by women in the fashionable west (Madams). The seedier “bawdy houses” of the East End were operated by men with less discretion and worse upholstery.

By the mid-1700s, women ran about half of all London brothels, often with far more tact than their male counterparts. And yes, the STIs and the popularity of these brothels were very much linked. Admission records to hospitals and poorhouses show that young, single, impoverished women, many of whom turned to sex work for survival, were particularly vulnerable to infection.

As for the men? Take a gander at The Martyrdom of Mercury (1709) at the top of this blog, an image of syphilitic gentlemen being treated in a hospital. The treatment? Being dosed with mercury - which seemed like a good idea at the time and gave rise to the contemporary saying, 'a night with Venus, and a lifetime with mercury'.

Catchy - no?

The gut feeling on condoms:

Prevention, like common sense, was mostly absent. Yes, condoms existed, but in those days they were handmade from sheep or goat intestines, pickled for your pleasure, and lovingly molded by Mrs. Phillips of Leicester Square. Because nothing says “romance” like glass dildo molds and offal.

Sadly, these early condoms were about as reliable as a debutante’s virtue at a masked ball. They frequently broke, were difficult to come by (literally), and weren’t exactly endorsed by the church or society.

Finally, a cure:

Not until 1910 did science finally step in with Salvarsan, a not-quite-lethal drug that sort of worked. And by the 1940s, penicillin came along and made syphilis curable, putting centuries of mercury-soaked suffering to an end, and ruining the vibe of countless dark, moody oil paintings.

So next time you're watching a Regency drama filled with longing stares and slow-burning tension, just remember: Statistically speaking, at least one of those characters has syphilis. Cheers to historical accuracy.