Victorian filth
Had a seminar last night, teaching The Picture of Dorian Gray. The text, and the Wilde trials, prompted the question: what models of same-sex passion were available in the late Victorian era? What was happening, and who knew about it?
To answer, in part, I took the students three minutes up the road, to the site of a 19th Century male brothel. The older buildings were still intact on the even-numbered side of the Road, a stylish little mansion block and a dull brick terrace, but the odd side had been demolished, and the brothel had been number 19. Telecom Tower was looming and luminous above us; highly appropriate, as the brothel was initially brought the eyes of the law by a theft at the Telegraph Office. At 19 Cleveland Street, delivery boys were paid for sex with aristocrats, and possibly with Queen Victoria's grandson, the heir presumptive to the throne (Albert Victor, known as Eddy). Lenient sentences for the lads (two were wonderfully named Newlove and Thickbroom). Lord Somerset paid their defense and fled overseas.
Liberated from my natural surroundings (whiteboard and desks) I grew gossipy. It's tangentially relevant that Labouchere, author of the amendment that criminalised sex between men in 1885, was convinced there had been a cover-up. He was expelled from the House of Commons in 1990 for calling another MP a liar on the issue. I think I told them that.
It wasn't strictly relevant, however, that the investigating officer went on to lead the Jack the Ripper murders, another case which (definitely) involved sex work and (possibly) involved Prince Eddy and a big cover-up. I definitely told them that. I may as well have swished a big cape and adopted low melodramatic tones.
It revived in me old longings to be a tour guide - all the fun of showing off, none of the responsibility of ensuring one's group has met their Learning Outcomes.
To answer, in part, I took the students three minutes up the road, to the site of a 19th Century male brothel. The older buildings were still intact on the even-numbered side of the Road, a stylish little mansion block and a dull brick terrace, but the odd side had been demolished, and the brothel had been number 19. Telecom Tower was looming and luminous above us; highly appropriate, as the brothel was initially brought the eyes of the law by a theft at the Telegraph Office. At 19 Cleveland Street, delivery boys were paid for sex with aristocrats, and possibly with Queen Victoria's grandson, the heir presumptive to the throne (Albert Victor, known as Eddy). Lenient sentences for the lads (two were wonderfully named Newlove and Thickbroom). Lord Somerset paid their defense and fled overseas.
Liberated from my natural surroundings (whiteboard and desks) I grew gossipy. It's tangentially relevant that Labouchere, author of the amendment that criminalised sex between men in 1885, was convinced there had been a cover-up. He was expelled from the House of Commons in 1990 for calling another MP a liar on the issue. I think I told them that.
It wasn't strictly relevant, however, that the investigating officer went on to lead the Jack the Ripper murders, another case which (definitely) involved sex work and (possibly) involved Prince Eddy and a big cover-up. I definitely told them that. I may as well have swished a big cape and adopted low melodramatic tones.
It revived in me old longings to be a tour guide - all the fun of showing off, none of the responsibility of ensuring one's group has met their Learning Outcomes.