Dollymops

(Content Warning: Mentions of death and prostitution.)

The whores of London affected the lives of every woman in Victorian England in one way or another. Susan Merrick might have joined their ranks had she not been born into circumstances so fortunate.

Throughout her childhood, she was prejudiced against the dollymops by her mother, whose main objection seemed to be their showy outfits. Her mother cast the strumpets in a particularly unsympathetic light; ensuring that Susie would never wind up like them.

Because Susie never needed to work, she didn’t realise that whoring was about as lucrative as it got for a lower class woman. Especially in comparison to the grunt work of a seamstress; glued to the loom for days on end, forfeiting sleep. 

Once she was a grown and married woman, Susie became less preoccupied with her disgust at the whores, and more concerned that her husband might be using their services. This was because Tim would return home after nanty narking in the local tavern, smelling a little too exotic as he climbed into bed. 

Susie's husband’s hedonism continued into the winter of 1868, when London entered a cold snap. As a lark one night, Tim’s drinking pals put him in a wheelbarrow and carted him around in the snow. It was all fun and games until their neglect proved to be fateful. 

As was their wont, Tim’s pals fled Greenwich park for the warmth of the brothel when they felt their loins stirring; leaving him unconscious in the barrow. Tim was as tight as a boiled owl; even the cold couldn’t wake him up so that he could stumble home. He stayed passed out all night, then passed on—dying of exposure. A resident discovered him the next morning; a river of vomit frozen to his chest.

*

That same winter, Susie was stopped in the street by police officers demanding to do unsavoury things in the name of the government. Because a steep rise in STDs had been affecting the country’s workforce, the government was intervening.

A junior and a senior officer cornered Susie in an alleyway, demanding that she submit to a spot check. The senior officer was tall and towered over her.

‘Madam. We need to check you for venereal disease. If you’d kindly direct us to your place of residence, we can do this in private.’

‘You’re not checking me for that. I’ve had no symptoms, whatsoever.’

‘It could be latent, Madam.’ The junior officer said, fingers wriggling near the truncheon at his waist. ‘The contagious diseases act demands that we check.’

‘You won’t find anything. I’m no strumpet,’ Susie said.

Though she sounded confident, Susie wasn’t sure she was actually clean when she recalled Tim’s possible brothel visits. Determined not to submit, she used every fibre in her being to stand straight and look the officers in their eyes.

‘We’re having a look, Madam--whether you like it or not,’ they said.

‘You are not touching me. I can’t believe we’re arguing over this! Be on your way, you couple of mutton shunters.’

One of the officers pinned Susie to the alley wall, while the other one callously defrocked her in front of the gawking market goers. The junior officer took his time inspecting Susie’s crotch with very cold hands.

‘Can’t see anything, Sargent. But I think we’d better take her in. Just to be sure.’

‘Right, you are,’ the senior officer said, winking. ‘It could be dormant. Bring the car around.’

*

The officers took Susie to Greenwich Hospital, where she was given sweat baths and rubbed with mercury ointments for twelve days. She felt rather more ill than before-- on account of the mercury--but was deemed clean before discharge.

Upon returning home, Susie remained asymptomatic. She was now more convinced that Tim’s tallywhacker had not been syphilitic; so was by turns grateful and infuriated. The coroner’s report still hadn’t arrived--did they bother carrying them out on people that had frozen to death?

Though it was humiliating, Susie’s hospital experience hadn’t been for naught. She became sympathetic to the plight of whores for the first time in her life. She had more empathy for the plight of every woman who was being subjected to wanton spot checks wherever and whenever officials felt like it in the crackdown on venereal disease.

To take a stand, Susie joined the Ladies’ Association against the Contagious Diseases Act, in 1869. It would take 17 years for the repeal to be granted, but eventually, there were no more humiliating spot checks.

The Ladies’ Association welcomed working girls to their group as a means of support and better understand the situation. Before her incident in the alley way, Susie wouldn’t have been caught dead fraternising with Carol--part time seamstress, part time whore.

After everyone else had left the meeting, Susie struck up a conversation with Carol while they polished off the leftover tea and scones. Carol tried very hard to act lady-like whilst sipping her tea in the presence of a middle class woman like Susie. And Susie could tell. She informed Carol that extending one’s pinkie whilst drinking tea was outdated and elitist. 

‘The raising of the pinkie need not be perpetuated if different social classes are to respect one another.’ Susie said, raising, then lowering her pinkie with her other hand. ‘Anyhow, which brothel do you work in? Is it Greenwich?’

‘Yes, Miss Merrick.’

‘Did you ever come across a man named Tim?’

‘Is that him who crooked from collywobbles?’

Carol looked embarrassed for using such crude slang, but Susie didn’t mind.

‘No,' Susie said, 'Tim froze to death in a wheelbarrow.’

‘Oh, yes. . . such a shame. I never did get to meet him. Neither did any of the girls in the brothel. He seemed like a nice fella.’

Susie’s eyes softened, and sparkled proudly as she contained a trembling smile.  

‘His mates always came rutting,’ Carol said, ‘but he stayed outside. Never came in once.’

‘He didn’t?’ Susie’s grin filled the width of her face and a rush of joy filled her abdomen. 

‘Oh, no. He seemed much too respectful, like.’

As she sipped her Earl Gray thoughtfully, Susie said to Carol,

‘That was my husband—the drunk.’