The painting Jack the Ripper’s Bedroom was ignored and remained in storage for twenty-two years. It seems the painting is one of the few Dr. Baron has left out of her writings. Certainly I had never heard of it. Nor had Dr. Robins or the Tate Gallery or anyone else I met during my research. Apparently, not everyone is eager to publicize this painting. The idea of Sickert being Jack the Ripper is “rubbish,” said Sickert’s nephew John Lessore, who is not related to Sickert by blood but through Sickert’s third wife, Therese Lessore.
While writing this book, I had no contact with the Sickert Trust. Neither the people who control it nor anyone else has dissuaded me from publishing what I believe to be the naked truth. I have drawn upon the recollections of people who were Walter Sickert’s contemporaries – such as Whistler and Sickert’s first two wives – who were under no legal obligation to a Sickert Trust.
I have avoided the recycled inaccuracies that have metastasized from one book to another. I have concluded that information cited since Sickert’s death consistently says nothing intentionally damning or humiliating about his life or character. The fistula was not considered important because apparently those who have mentioned it did not fully realize what it was or that it could have caused devastating repercussions in Sickert’s psyche. I must admit I was shocked when I asked John Lessore about his uncle’s fistula and he told me – as if it were common knowledge – that the fistula was a “hole in [Sickert’s] penis.”
I don’t think Lessore had a clue as to the significance of what he was saying, and I would be surprised if Denys Sutton knew much about Sickert’s fistula, either. Sutton’s reference to the problem says no more than that Sickert underwent two failed surgeries “for fistula in Munich,” and in 1865, while the Sickert family was in Dieppe, his great-aunt Anne Sheepshanks suggested a third attempt by a prominent London surgeon.
Helena does not mention her elder brother’s medical problem in her memoirs, but one wonders how much she knew. It’s unlikely that her eldest brother’s genitalia were a topic of family conversation. Helena was an infant when Sickert suffered through his surgeries, and chances are that by the time she was old enough to give much thought to the organs of reproduction, Sickert was not inclined to run around naked in front of her – or anyone else. He obliquely alluded to his fistula when he used to joke that he came to London to be “circumcised.”
In the nineteenth century, fistulas of the anus, rectum, and vagina were so common that St. Mark’s Hospital in London was dedicated to treating them. There are no references to fistulas of the penis in the medical literature I consulted, but the term may have been loosely used to describe penile anomalies such as the one Sickert suffered from. The word “fistula” – Latin for reed or pipe – is generally used to describe an abnormal opening or sinus that can cause such atrocities as a rectum connected to the bladder or to the urethra or to the vagina.
A fistula can be congenital but is often caused by an abscess that takes the path of least resistance, and burrows through tissue or the skin surface, forming a new opening for urine, feces, and pus to escape. Fistulas could be extremely uncomfortable, embarrassing, and even fatal. Early medical journals cite harrowing cases such as miserably painful ulcers, bowels emptying into bladders, bowels or bladders emptying into vaginas or uteri, and menstruation through the rectum.
During the mid-1800s, doctors attributed the cause of fistulas to all sorts of things: sitting on damp seats, sitting outside on omnibuses after physical exertion, swallowing small bones or pins, the “wrong” food, alcohol, improper clothing, the “luxurious” use of cushions, or sedentary habits associated with certain professions. Dr. Frederick Salmon, the founder of St. Mark’s Hospital, treated Charles Dickens for a fistula caused by, he said, the great writer’s sitting at his desk too much.
St. Mark’s was established in 1835 to relieve the poor of rectal diseases and their “baneful varieties” and in 1864 moved to City Road in Islington. In 1865, it suffered financial devastation when the hospital secretary fled from London after embezzling £400, or one quarter of the hospital’s annual income. A fund-raising dinner to be hosted by the fistula-free Dickens was proposed, but he declined the honor. In the same year, Walter Sickert arrived at St. Mark’s in the fall to be “cured” by its recently appointed surgeon, Dr. Alfred Duff Cooper, who later married the daughter of the Duke of Fife and was knighted by King Edward VII.