Episode 75: Syphilis [2]
“Japan?”
“Yeah, Japan.”
“Ah… there… okay?”
“Why does your face look puffy?”
I kept scolding Alfred. It wasn’t exactly a lie. I genuinely believed it. From what I vaguely remembered, there were more syphilis cases in Japan than in Joseon. Since Japan had opened its ports earlier and had more international exchange, it made sense that the disease would spread more easily.
If you think that’s unfair, then come to London and see for yourself…
Of course, if he really did show up, he would probably be furious. And to be honest, I felt a little guilty, so I quickly moved on to what I actually wanted to say.
“Anyway. There’s a medical record of how syphilis progresses.”
“Ohh… They have that level of medical knowledge?”
“Well, just… because there are so many cases. I don’t know the details either.”
“Okay, so what about it?”
Thankfully, everyone here was a doctor, so they were more interested in the disease itself than in whether Japan had medical records. Honestly, London was a city where you could indulge in whatever you wanted, if you had the money and the nerve. Naturally, sexually transmitted diseases were rampant, so preventing syphilis was critical. That gave me the chance to speak up and hold their attention.
“First of all, as everyone knows, when you get syphilis, ulcers form around the genitals. These ulcers are painless. That’s the biggest difference from other venereal diseases.”
“Now that you mention it… right.”
“Exactly. It doesn’t hurt, and that’s why diagnosis gets delayed.”
Blundell’s reaction reminded me how syphilis created a vicious cycle. Wasn’t this the disease that caused the old myth about bathing being deadly? People rarely washed back then, and when they did, it was only occasionally. That meant they rarely got a good look at their genitals. Unless you were unusually curious, you probably wouldn’t notice. If it hurt, maybe they would look. But since it didn’t, many cases went undiagnosed or were caught too late.
“But I already know that.”
“Sure, sure. The problem is, you can’t just walk around peering at people’s crotches in the streets or pubs… Wait. You were thinking of doing that?”
Blundell shook his head, then scowled at Liston’s serious face.
Come to think of it, Liston was the kind of man who might try something like that.
“Why are you carrying a knife again?”
“In case I need to perform surgery.”
“People will think that’s a weapon! You’ll get arrested!”
“I’ve been taken in a few times. Nothing happened.”
“You’re insane.”
It wasn’t a big deal to him. He already had a reputation. It wasn’t as if he had stabbed anyone. Still, he had been treated as a dangerous person and thrown into a cell once or twice.
“It’s fine. I just cut off the police chief’s mother’s leg the other day.”
“That usually makes someone hold a grudge, you know?”
“No, no. They were grateful. She lived.”
“That’s…”
I mean, should I say I’m glad? It felt like a bump was forming on my forehead…
“See? That’s not even the worst of it.”
Like Blundell, I had no interest in making frequent visits to the police station. I was Korean, after all. Fortunately, the only racist I had run into was Colin, and even he had mellowed out, but there was no guarantee the police would act the same. Not long ago, I had seen mounted police arrest a man and drag him along behind the horse. Did the man even survive the trip to the station? I couldn’t be sure. So I hurried to keep the conversation moving.
“Oh, right, there’s more. What?”
“Actually, isn’t it true that those ulcers usually heal on their own?”
In most adults, they did, almost one hundred percent of the time. And not because of treatment either. That was just how the disease behaved. Of course, that didn’t mean they were cured. Stage one was only the part where the bacteria hid inside the body.
“Then, over time, most patients… we call that the second stage.”
“Stage two?”
“Yes. Different symptoms start to show up.”
“Huh… yeah, I suppose that makes sense. That’s good to know. And?”
If I had started talking about disease stages the moment I arrived, I would have looked incredibly suspicious. Actually, if I said this stuff in front of anyone but these four, they would think I was insane. But Liston, Blundell, Joseph Lister, and Alfred already believed I had impressive medical knowledge. In their minds, Joseon must be some advanced medical utopia. Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong. Twenty-first-century Korea was medically advanced.
“Anyway, in stage two, you start to see papules, raised lesions, on the hands and feet.”
“Papules… Now that you say that, I think I’ve seen someone with that. We don’t specialize in syphilis, though.”
Liston casually said “we,” but truth be told, no one specialized in syphilis back then. After all, it was an incurable disease. Who would want to make a career out of that? In the twenty-first century, sure, researchers would study the disease’s progression and treatments. But in this era, there were so many illnesses left unconquered that it would be a waste to throw your life into something with no hope.
“Once you reach stage three… it gets painful, and there’s not much you can do.”
“Judging by what Professor Blundell is saying, it sounds like that man has been seeing one woman after another. So he’s probably only in stage two.”
“Exactly. If he were in stage three… well, people at that stage are usually hospitalized. I doubt someone like that could seduce anyone.”
Stage-three syphilis was severe enough that it could be mistaken for leprosy. In cases where the nerves were affected, the patient could also experience mental deterioration, including dementia-like symptoms and hallucinations. That was why, when looking back at famous historical figures who showed mental decline, there was a theory that many of them actually had syphilis. Personally, I thought that theory held water. The disease was that widespread.
Anyway, the key point was this: the man spreading syphilis was most likely in stage two. If he were still in stage one, he wouldn’t be as visibly identifiable. And if he were in stage three, as Liston said, he wouldn’t be seducing anyone.
“A bushy-bearded sailor with papules on his hands and feet. With that much, I think I can find him.”
Liston slung his blade, a massive surgical knife over thirty centimeters long, famously called Liston’s knife, over his back. It was sheathed in leather, thank God, but even so… the thing looked like a sword no matter how you sliced it.
“Uh, you’re not seriously planning to swing that thing around, right?”
“Haha. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I’m not saying it won’t come to that, but you can’t just start swinging it!”
I said this out of concern, but this lunatic had the nerve to answer.
“No, no, Pyeong. That’s only because you don’t know the back alleys of London. If someone pulls a gun, you need to at least have a knife ready.”
“What? Are we actually going to the back alleys?”
“Well, did you think we would find an Irish sailor with a bushy beard in a high-end bar?”
“Ah… then…”
I was about to bow out when Liston suddenly grabbed my wrist.
“You’re the expert here, aren’t you? Should we just leave you behind?”
“Sigh…”
Why did I open my damn mouth earlier, talking about stages and symptoms? Now they were going to make me help find this man.
“Let’s go.”
“Sigh…”
Before I knew it, the strange smell in the air snapped me back to my senses. I looked around. Sure enough, we were in a dingy back alley. I couldn’t say exactly where, but one thing was certain. This was not the main street.
“Did someone… poop?”
“I think so.”
“What?”
“Toilets aren’t exactly common around here.”
I said it more rhetorically, but Liston just gave me a look that said, Why are you even asking that?
Only then did I understand. Ah, so this was what it smelled like when human waste mixed with the rest of London’s stench.
“Let’s try that way first.”
“Sure.”
Liston and Blundell strode confidently into a shabby-looking tavern like a pair of amateur detectives. Behind me, Joseph and Alfred followed, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Wait, no. On closer inspection, it wasn’t dissatisfaction on their faces. It was just the smell.
“My heart’s racing.”
“You were right to become a doctor.”
“Obviously!”
Madmen. What kind of doctor wandered through back alleys trying to hunt down a disease? Was this normal?
Rattle.
Of course, there was no use complaining. Liston still had a firm grip on my wrist.
“Hmm?”
People inside the tavern started looking at me. Even with a hat on, I must have looked strange, too foreign and too out of place.
“What?”
I didn’t even get a chance to say anything. Liston stepped forward and drew attention to himself. Then the gazes turned to him and froze. That scar running across his face from surgery, his neck thicker than most women’s thighs, arms like boulders, and his fists… Wait, his fists?
“Why are you clenching your fist?”
“They’re staring at me.”
“We came here to look for someone, not to fight.”
“Oh, right, right. We’re in a tavern. Haha, anyway—”
He chuckled and plopped down at a random table, joining strangers like it was nothing.
“What the…”
I didn’t even dare voice my discomfort. I was too scared.
“I have a question.”
“Oh, are you the police?”
“Uh… yes.”
Liston pulled the massive knife from his back and set it on the table. Then he kept talking.
I didn’t know what kind of police officer threatened people with a damn knife, but apparently, in a world where fists spoke louder than laws, this kind of thing actually worked. The man answered immediately.
“Anyway… have you seen an Irish man with spots on his hands and feet and a big bushy beard?”
“Ah… recently…”
“Recently?”
“Yes, but… I haven’t seen him around lately.”
“Did anything stand out about him?”
“Anything unusual? Hmm… oh!”
“Oh?”
“He was… really into women.”
“That’s our man. Did you see him somewhere else?”
“Uh… what?”
“What? Are you trying to lie and bolt out the door? You’ll only make yourself look suspicious.”
“No, no! I just passed him outside!”
The man was shaking so much that it clearly wasn’t a lie. If he was lying, he deserved an award for acting. Either way, we followed the direction he pointed and spotted a man.
“Oh, that one. The man in long sleeves.”
I squinted to get a better look at his hands.
“Oh, just now—”
Of course, I was the first one to spot it. Liston turned to me with a silent question in his eyes.
“He has papules. I’m sure of it.”
“Good. Hey, back to work.”
Satisfied, Liston grinned like a proper gangster and casually made his way toward the man.
Translator’s Notes
Syphilis — A sexually transmitted bacterial infection. In the nineteenth century, it was difficult to treat and could progress through multiple stages.
Stage-one syphilis — Early stage, usually marked by a painless ulcer or sore near the infection site.
Stage-two syphilis — Later stage that can cause rashes, papules, fever, and other systemic symptoms.
Stage-three syphilis — Advanced syphilis, which can damage organs, nerves, and the brain.
Papules — Small raised bumps on the skin. In secondary syphilis, they may appear on the hands and feet.
Ulcer — An open sore on the skin or mucous membrane.
Leprosy — Chronic infectious disease historically feared for causing visible skin and nerve damage. Mentioned as a comparison for severe late-stage syphilis.
Liston’s knife — A long surgical amputation knife associated with Robert Liston, used before modern surgical tools and techniques became standardized.
Mounted police — Police officers on horseback, commonly used for patrol and crowd control in nineteenth-century cities.