There was a strong undercurrent of sexual tension in the country’s spa centres, as evidenced by the famous ‘Bridge of Sighs’ separating the male and female sections of Dr Gully’s treatment centre at Malvern. Not surprisingly, the relationship between doctor and patient could also become highly charged. We might remember Florence Nightingale’s comment about her mother’s passion for Dr Gully, and of having been obliged to remind the doctor that she ‘had a father living’. In a letter to her cousin Helen Welsh in 1851, Jane Carlyle wrote, with typical dry wit, that Gully was:

dreadfully persecuted with the devotion of Ladies – all his female patients seeming to feel it their duty to fall in love with him – he has whole drawerfuls of purses, greekcaps, braces and other Ladies works – besides all the chairs sofas and tables in the house being covered with worsted work! – If the poor ladies only saw the fun that is made of their presents they would send them to any bazaar, rather!1

Ironically, there would come a day when the tables were turned and Dr Gully began sighing over one of his young patients.

Though lacking the warmth and charisma of James Gully, the widowed Dr Marsden attracted his own share of admirers, particularly after he began specializing in the area of women’s health. The lady who captured his heart was Scottish-born Mary Lyon Campbell, then aged thirty. Mary lived with her widowed mother in Edinburgh, but her late father, Colin Campbell, had been Laird of the Hebridean Isle of Jura and of the Craignish estate on mainland Argyllshire. Craignish, with its fortress-like castle, had just been sold by Mary’s brother, Richard (the then Laird), for £26,000. The sale reduced the Campbell family’s influence, but provided much needed cash for the ancestral estates on Jura following the devastating potato famine.

In 1849 Mary almost lost her life after falling from a horse at full gallop and her recovery remained incomplete. Although doctors could find no permanent damage, the accident left her unable to walk. When all other treatment failed, her Edinburgh surgeon suggested she try the water-cure, and she arrived as a patient at Cotswold House in October 1851.2 It is possible there was a psychological aspect to her condition. She was still unmarried in a society that considered a woman’s only worthwhile role to be that of wife and mother. A romantically frail ‘invalid’ was viewed far more sympathetically than a despised spinster.

Among the female patients who travelled to spa towns such as Malvern were those seeking treatment for ‘hysteria’, a nineteenth-century euphemism for sexual frustration. Symptoms included loss of appetite, nervousness, insomnia and muscle spasm. The water-cure doctors employed novel therapies in the form of stimulating water jets, douches and sitz baths – said to increase the flow of blood to the pelvic regions and to help in achieving a ‘release of tension’, i.e. sexual orgasm. Their methods formed an alternative to vibrators, which were not only widely used in medical practice, but advertised openly for use in the home under headings such as ‘Aids That Every Woman Appreciates’ and ‘Vibration Is Life’.

Whatever the cause of Mary Campbell’s affliction, being courted at thirty by her doctor would have been a heady experience, not to mention having the Poet Laureate lay healing hands upon her brow. It was in this rarefied atmosphere that, surprise, surprise, she began to regain the use of her legs. By the time Dr Marsden enlisted Alfred Tennyson’s help in treating Mary, the boundary between doctor and patient had well and truly been crossed. As a physician, Marsden was already in a position of power and there is something slightly sinister in his use of mesmerism on a woman he desired physically and who was, by his own description, seriously ill and therefore emotionally vulnerable.

The issue of improper conduct between doctors and their female patients was highlighted in a court case some years later which had an interesting connection to Malvern. A respectable spinster servant was being attended by a doctor for ‘cataleptic hysteria’ and ulcers in the womb. Over a period of about a year the doctor treated her using a speculum, a medical tool used for examining body cavities. It was the patient’s habit to lie with a handkerchief over her face during the procedure, but on one occasion she removed it and saw the doctor buttoning his trousers. Eventually her periods ceased, she suffered nausea, and her stomach began to swell. She was told she had an enlarged liver!

About to visit Malvern, her concerned mistress asked the doctor whether she should seek a second opinion, but was told it would be pointless. His advice was for the servant to drink copious amounts of wormwood tea (a herbal remedy for inducing miscarriage) and to walk on the steep Malvern Hills as much as possible. However, the woman’s employer consulted Dr Gully, who diagnosed a tumour of the womb and put the patient through a complete course of the water-cure. The ‘tumour’ continued to grow and while at Malvern the woman gave birth to a baby boy. The original doctor was charged with improper conduct, but during the court case a medical expert for the defence, Dr Smith, stated that women suffering from hysteria were ‘given to systematic lies and imposture’.3 The doctor was acquitted and a subscription raised by his colleagues to cover his legal costs.

Meanwhile, Dr Gully had left himself and his water-cure colleagues open to ridicule through his bizarre diagnosis of a tumour. Smith later commented:

Would any old petticoated nurse in the country have committed such an unpardonable blunder as not to recognize pregnancy in so well marked a case?… Dr Gully owns to having treated her hydropathically and homeopathically. It is only a pity for his sake that he had not recourse to other such means as mesmerism and spirit-rapping, to escape the droll errors of diagnostic and so-called treatment into which he fell.4

After five years as a widower, Dr Marsden was more than ready to remarry and a long courtship was out of the question. He was frantically busy, not only with his thriving practice and construction of his treatment centre, but in preparing to move from Cotswold House to a larger, detached property. There is no evidence that he made sexual advances towards Mary while she was under the influence of mesmerism, but certainly an increase in psychological control would have proved useful in dispelling any misgivings she may have had about leaving her family in Scotland to become stepmother to six young children.

In Dr Marsden’s mind, his offspring became an even greater liability after Célestine Doudet, having been with the family for just a few weeks, told him that Emily was still indulging in masturbation. Worse still, the governesss reported that the habit had spread like a contagious disease, with all five of the Marsden girls, including 6-year-old Alice, now ‘infected’. The doctor’s shock and disgust was intensified by the thought that if Miss Campbell agreed to become his wife, she would inevitably discover that his children were morally perverted. He was unaware that his intended had a sexual skeleton in her own closet.

In 1841, 20-year-old Mary made an extended visit to her sister Isabella’s home of Jarvisfield, on the Scottish Isle of Mull. Isabella’s husband Lachlan Macquarie Jr had inherited the estate from his late father. In the early years of the century, Lachlan Macquarie Sr had been one of New South Wales’ most highly respected colonial governors. Unfortunately, spoiled Lachlan Jr grew up to become a hopeless alcoholic, which may explain why, after five years of marriage, he and Isabella remained childless. It may also explain why a doctor was staying at the house on a professional basis.

Towards the end of that year stories began to circulate that Mary was sleeping with her brother-in-law. On 14 January 1842 Lachlan was forced to write a passionate letter of denial to his father-in-law, Colin Campbell, explaining the source of the rumours:

It transpired that the medical adviser (and author of the anonymous letter) had witnessed a maid returning a hair comb to Mary that had been found in Lachlan’s bed. Despite this damning evidence, Macquarie continued to defend his sister-in-law’s honour. The Campbell family closed ranks, but gossip travelled fast within the closely interconnected Highland clans, damaging Mary’s reputation and her chances of marriage. Three years later Macquarie died from alcohol abuse, having bequeathed his estate to a friend, to whom he was deeply in debt. In November 1851 his cousins challenged the will, arguing that Macquarie had been of unsound mind. The action failed, but evidence regarding the dead man’s dissipated lifestyle led the judge to describe him as ‘morally insane’. Had the real reason Mary left Edinburgh immediately prior to the court case been fear of the old scandal being aired?

At Malvern, with no inkling of any stain on Miss Campbell’s character, the lovesick Dr Marsden was going to great lengths to cure his daughters of their alleged sexual deviancy, including the use of corporal punishment. He also made further restrictions to their homeopathic diet, specifically banning red meat, which was thought to excite the passions. But the vigilant governess insisted they showed no signs of improvement. With the doctor’s approval she began using physical restraints, tying the girls’ hands and feet when they were in bed.

It was a setback for Dr Marsden when Mademoiselle Doudet, after being at Cotswold House for about five weeks, was forced to take leave. Her sisters had sent word from Paris that their mother was dying. Strangely enough, instead of Adelaide Burnell simply resuming charge of the older children for what was expected to be a brief period, the doctor employed a temporary governess, Miss Dowmann. Miss Burnell returned to Devonshire to stay with her family and while she was there Dr Marsden sent her a curt letter of dismissal. Perhaps he felt she had failed in the moral supervision of his daughters, although it may simply have been a cost-saving measure. Why waste money on a teacher for the little ones when the efficient new French governess was clearly capable of handling all six of his children?

Sadly, Madame Doudet died before her daughter reached Paris. After organizing the funeral, Célestine stayed on for a couple of weeks caring for her grieving sister, Zéphyrine. She then resumed her position at Cotswold House. Around the same time, Adelaide Burnell returned to Malvern to confront the doctor over her dismissal. However, if she received an explanation, it was never disclosed. Annabella Candler would later say that Mademoiselle Doudet described Dr Marsden’s treatment of her predecessor as ‘capricious’, expressing regret over joining his household because, ‘how would she know if she wouldn’t be treated the same way as mademoiselle Adelaide Burnell?’6 It may have been for this reason that an idea Doudet had conceived during her stay in Paris assumed fresh appeal.

The governess approached Dr Marsden and told him she was thinking of establishing a small school in her late mother’s apartment. She proposed that the Marsden girls become her first pupils, aware that the arrangement would provide her with more security. As mistress of her own establishment she would also enjoy greater autonomy and prestige. And for a woman of Doudet’s refined tastes, Paris offered a more congenial environment than the cultural backwater of Great Malvern. Naturally the idea was music to Dr Marsden’s ears. His daughters would benefit from a little European polish, and of course the alternative meant revealing their sordid habits to Miss Dowmann or a replacement governess. Besides, for a man with marriage on his mind, a house full of children was an encumbrance. Here was the perfect opportunity to clear the field. He decided to enrol his son James at a private school in England and to send his daughters to Paris for an initial period of six months. William Candler would later say that he remonstrated with the doctor about handing the girls over to a virtual stranger, but that Dr Marsden insisted Mademoiselle Doudet was a woman of the highest character, in whom he had complete confidence.

The governess was to be paid the less than generous sum of 100 francs per month per child, to cover full board and tuition. However, fees for outside music, language and drawing masters were to be paid for separately by Dr Marsden. Mademoiselle Doudet also reserved the right to augment her income by providing lessons to day students. She was to be assisted in her venture by her younger sister Zéphyrine. Perhaps she dreamed that the school would grow, and that it might eventually be as highly regarded as Madame de Chabaud-Latour’s academy.

As preparations for the journey to France were underway, a new and serious accusation was made by the governess against Rosa. Mademoiselle Doudet said the girl had crept into her bedroom and stolen a brooch. When Rosa pleaded her innocence she was branded a liar as well as a thief. Her father clearly viewed this as quite different to any previous offence. Rosa was given a severe beating and locked up, on a diet of bread and water, until she confessed. Harriet Marsden wept for her granddaughter, but did not feel she could intervene. Mary Campbell was so upset by the draconian punishment that she quietly slipped the child extra food. It was three days before the little girl was released, still insisting she had not taken the brooch. It was later found in the garden, hidden behind a pile of sticks. The incident confirmed Dr Marsden’s belief that his daughters were incorrigible. He decided their only hope of salvation lay with Mademoiselle Doudet, and banishment to France.

For the children, school in Paris not only meant leaving the familiarity of Malvern but being separated from a close extended family. They would sorely miss their Marsden and Rashdall aunts, their grandmothers, and above all their devoted Uncle John. But in Dr Marsden’s view, daughters who stole, neglected their lessons, and indulged in immoral habits had no right of complaint. Their insecurity was thus compounded by shame and a sense of rejection. A further anxiety was prompted by servant gossip about their father and Miss Campbell. Emily, if not her siblings, was perceptive enough to understand that by the time they returned home they might well have a stepmother.

Notes

1 The Carlyle Letters Online [CLO ] 2007, http://carlyleletters.org, date viewed 10 October 2010.

2 Bouchardon, Pierre, Célestine Doudet, institutrice (A. Michel, Paris, 1928), p. 22.

3 Medical Times and Gazette, 11 April 1863.

4 British Medical Journal, 9 May 1863.

5 National Archives of Scotland GD174/1731 (Draft letter from Lachlan Macquarie to Colin Campbell of Jura, 14 January 1842).

6 Memoire Pour Mademoiselle Célestine Doudet contre Le Ministère Public et M. Marsden, partie civile (Cour Imperiale, Paris, 1855), p. 17.