A victorian spanking adv.., p.23
A Victorian Spanking Adventure, page 23
---oOo---
Grand Hotel
Brighton
February 25th 1869
Dear Miss Hartwell,
It is with great regret that I write this, my first letter to you, with such grave and distressing news.
Your Aunt is seriously ill. She has the consumption and is now unable to sit up long enough even to write a letter. She has entrusted me to impart news of your family and of our own situation, a duty I undertake most willingly, having followed the events of your recent life with great interest and, if I may make so bold, much admiration.
Your Aunt's illness became apparent last autumn when a persistent cough, and intermittent fevers, refused to respond to treatment by her doctor. She asks me to apologise on her behalf that she kept this from you. I am sure you may understand why she did so: she had no wish, given the difficulty and uncertainty of your own circumstances, to add to your burden.
I hope, however, that it will come as a source of pleasure to you to learn that Julia and I were married a month ago at Finsbury Town Hall. Julia was still strong enough at that point to stand up with me and make of me a very grateful and happy man. Unfortunately, her condition has, since then, deteriorated markedly. We came to the south coast a fortnight ago, on the advice of her doctor, whilst she was still strong enough to travel - the sea air brings some relief, thank God, though her condition remains perilous.
I know this must come as a great shock to you, and elicit, no doubt, most painful sorrow (a condition I struggle with daily). However, Julia asks me to assure you that she feels nothing but gratitude for the life she has been able to live; she accepts its drawing to a close, content in the knowledge that she has loved and been loved most deeply. And, she asks me to tell you, among those whom she has most cherished, and whom she has taken most delight in loving, is your dear self. Please treasure these words of hers, which I pass on to you as they came from her lips this morning.
I am afraid I must now move on to another item of painful news. I wish, with all my heart, that it did not fall to me to be the bearer of such tidings to you, but Julia insists it is better that you learn of these things now, rather than later in your confinement.
Your father has reacted most unfavourably to the revelation of your current situation. Julia felt that she had no choice, soon after Christmas, but to inform your parents of your elopement with Mr Hastings, and of all the events that led up to it (including your attendance at Greystones). Again, she felt that it was preferable, given the irrevocable commitment you have made, that the thistle be grasped and the news related sooner rather than later. Your parents, however, do not know that you are with child; only that you followed James Hastings to Paris and thence to Italy.
Your father has disowned you, and has written to your relatives informing them of the fact and requesting that they have no further contact with you. Julia suggests that your cousin Jasper is unlikely to abide by this draconian proscription, a circumstance which I hope will come as some consolation to you. Nor, of course, has your brother Cecil agreed to any such thing. He, however, is now in Egypt, having left Hartwell Hall in secret on New Year's Eve to join Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks' expedition. Your father was equally furious at this turn of events, but, having heard how successfully Cecil had gained the trust and admiration of Sir Augustus, he was prevailed upon to find some consolation in Cecil's having embarked, albeit prematurely, on a respectable career. Your mother, meanwhile, is said to have taken once more to her bed.
Dear Lydia (if I may address you so familiarly), please accept my sincere and heartfelt condolences on these most upsetting developments, and know that you may rely - not only for your Aunt's sake, but out of my own admiration for you - upon my unconditional friendship. I beg you not to hesitate, whatever the circumstance might be, to call upon my help whenever you may be in need of it: if it is in my power, I will do it.
Finally, you may be interested to learn of the fate of a young man you have cause to despise (I should perhaps confess here that I have been party to the entirety of your correspondence with your Aunt these many months).
Archibald Smythe has had the thrashing of his life and, in the matter of a career, finds every door closed to him.
What led to this spectacular change of circumstance for young Smythe will probably not greatly surprise you, and I am pleased to say that I have the story from one who was close at hand.
There is a certain type of establishment to be found in numerous districts of our capital that caters to gentlemen who delight in the practice of corporal chastisement either upon the persons, or at the hands, of professional ladies of a similar disposition. I will not pretend to you that I am immune to the fascinations of such establishments myself, or that I have not, on occasion, frequented them.
At a notably superior version of just such a house, one frequented by numerous personages of extremely high standing, our friend Mr Smythe happened to be in attendance on December 29th. It was an especially lively evening, with extra young ladies having been brought in for the occasion by the proprietress, a Mrs Hayward. The ground and first floors were set aside for the whipping of the gentlemen, whilst on the second floor a succession of young ladies were available themselves to be flogged. The birch rod is the most commonly favoured implement in such places, but the general liberality on this occasion allowed of any number of alternatives.
Smythe apparently had found his way to this second floor, and had prevailed upon one of the youngest of Mrs Hayward's young ladies to submit to chastisement with a cane. On such occasions, gentlemen are expected to, and indeed do, observe the common decency of respecting the limits of the young women in receipt of their blows, limits which are by no means narrow - these girls are hardened by repeated practice.
Contrary to the spirit of the evening, and the house rules, Smythe managed somehow to closet himself alone with the young woman in a small room. It appears he had also surreptitiously locked the door. The attention of nearby revellers was soon drawn by the sounds of piercing screams and cursing emanating from the locked room, cries that differed from the norm by their genuine desperation and outrage; they were accompanied by the repeated swishing and impact of cane upon flesh.
The revellers' repeated and frantic knocking upon the door, along with loud calls to open up, brought no response; indeed, if anything, the strokes and screams intensified. When Mrs Hayward herself appeared, flustered and angry at being disturbed in her dedicated whipping of a very senior judge, she quickly persuaded a very large gentleman to break the door down.
Sweat dripping from his face, Smythe was in a frenzy. Ignoring the loud crack as the door was sheared from its hinges, he carried on lashing the young woman, whom he had tied down over a stool. Her bare bottom and thighs were a mass of dark weals, with her skin broken in several places, and she was screaming blue murder, demanding he be arrested. He was soon wrestled to the floor by the same obliging gentleman who had seen to the door (a commanding officer in the Queen's regiment, apparently).
Mrs Hayward berated Smythe furiously, kicking him as he lay spread-eagled on the floor under the weight of the officer. The judge whose chastisement had been interrupted then appeared, demanding to know what was amiss. He and a leading parliamentarian then sat in immediate judgment upon Smythe, who was taken into the basement where he was whipped with birch and cane until his own screams were heard coming up the stairs, eliciting much cheering and applause. His name, and the ignominy attached, spread quickly through the assembled company, among whom were men of great influence in so many fields that he is assured of a cold shoulder wherever he may try to present himself. His disgrace is complete.
The young lady, meanwhile, was tended to by two of her companions, and later recompensed handsomely through the contributions of a number of generous benefactors who had witnessed the scene.
Whilst I know you to be of a generous and gentle disposition, dear Miss Hartwell, I thought that you might gain some satisfaction from hearing of the come-uppance of the despicable Smythe, at whose dishonourable hands I know you suffered yourself whilst at Greystones.
I must tend to your Aunt. We shall be in residence here in Brighton for the foreseeable future, though that future is of course painfully uncertain. Please write: should we vacate our rooms here, I shall ensure that all correspondence is forwarded to Bedford Square.
Once again, please be assured of my determination to be of whatever service to you that I can.
Proudly, I sign myself, your uncle,
William (Lazenby)
---oOo---
Hazlitt's
Greystones
March 10th 1869
Dear Cousin,
Thank you for your letter from Italy, which only arrived last week, seven weeks after you posted it! It seems that the postmen of Europe are as intent on keeping us apart as our own families are! To be fair, though, we have had a lot of snow recently, and other letters have been slow to arrive as well.
I do not mean to make light of our fathers' folly; I imagine that Sir Lionel's reaction has been hard for you to bear, despite the happiness of your life there with James Hastings. Meanwhile, the news of Aunt Julia is even more deeply saddening. I hope with all my heart that you have been able to rise above these sorrows and concentrate on nurturing yourself and your unborn child.
I received two letters in the space of a week last month, the first from my father and the second from a Mr William Lazenby. My father wrote to forbid me from corresponding with you, as you had, in his words, 'shamed us all to such an extent that it is impossible for the family to acknowledge' you any longer. He said that he was following your father's wishes in this, but that his own feelings were 'entirely in agreement' with his brother's on 'this matter'.
Ugh! I think they are both mad! Nothing will keep me from writing to you, my dear Lydia, nor from seeking to dissuade our parents from their thoughtless unkindness. I have already written to my father and mother saying as much, and inviting them to 'disown' me too if they will not accept my decision. I have yet to receive a reply.
Mr Lazenby, meanwhile, wrote most kindly, at Aunt Julia's request - it was from him that I learned, of course, of her illness (my father had been strangely silent on this subject) and that he had already written to you explaining how things stand. Our fathers appear to be equally shocked and dismissive of Aunt Julia and Mr Lazenby's marriage, having refused the invitation to attend their own (rapidly sickening) sister's wedding. I must tell you, Lydia, that I am ashamed to be a Hartwell.
Mr Lazenby was also kind enough to relate to me the extraordinary story of Smythe's behaviour in London, and how the latter's prospects are all but ruined. He did not return to Greystones this term, and, of course, there was much speculation as to the reason - after Parkin left in December, Smythe was expected (to everyone's horror) to have become the Dux Domum. Gradually, whispers spread that he had fallen into some terrible disgrace, but no one knew anything of its exact nature. Some are saying he will have no choice now but to beg for a position in some far-flung outpost of one of the less significant colonies, and hope that the witnesses to his brutishness have short memories. I have shared the truth only with Watson - I doubt anyone else would believe it!
I was astounded, though, by Mr Lazenby's description (albeit a somewhat abridged one, as befitted his perception of my innocence, no doubt) of the 'house' in which Smythe's downfall occurred. Mr L says that such places are to be found all over London! I think I better understand now the nature of that gleam I have observed in the eyes of such as Kendrick and Soames when they have a boy at the mercy of their cane! Oh, how they thrash, and oh, how they enjoy it! I had a caning myself - a dozen in Locflag from Soames - a fortnight ago, from which I am only now just about recovered.
I wish you every happiness, dear cousin, and I would urge you not to give up hope of a reconciliation with your father and mother. I shall certainly do my utmost to speak up on your behalf, whatever the consequences, and surely Hastings' standing must count for something?
It would be unwise to send a letter to me at home (by the time you receive this, the Easter holidays will probably be upon us), so please write to me here instead. I await your news with all my usual eagerness, as you remain the object of my greatest respect, and cousinly love,
Jasper
---oOo---
Podere delle Betulle
Montalcino
Toscana
Italy
March 30th 1869
Dear Uncle William,
For such I am now most content to call you! Congratulations upon your marriage, despite the sad circumstances surrounding it.
Thank you for your letter and the kindness and sensitivity with which you passed on the news of Aunt Julia's illness and of my father's decision. Of the latter, I have scarcely thought - it seems so petty at such a time. As to the former, it elicited in me a most profound bitterness, accompanied by bouts of weeping that continued for many days. That such a worthy, kind and generous soul should be afflicted by this terrible disease shook me to my core. If I had not been surrounded by so many wise and loving friends, I think I would have descended into a melancholy so deep that nothing would have been capable of raising me from it.
At first, I insisted that I must return to England immediately to be by her side, with you. I was only persuaded against this course by the good advice of Signora Bellini, who has been helping me throughout my 'confinement' (such a silly word!). I have not been very strong of late, and such a journey would have been a foolish undertaking. James also pointed out that Aunt would not have wished me to take such a risk.
As it is, I am now sustained by the necessity of remaining strong for the new life within me. James and I have agreed that should our child be a girl, her name will be Julia.
Thank you, too, for relating the details of Smythe's come-uppance. If, as you said, you have been party to all my correspondence with Aunt, then you may remember the episode in the dormitory at Greystones when Smythe deliberately manufactured an excuse to give me a ferocious whacking. It was a dastardly trick, without any justification, designed solely to allow him an opportunity to wreak his brutal havoc upon my backside. I wondered then, as I do now, if he was not somehow drawn, without knowing it, to my femininity, and that it was this that made me an especially attractive target for his desire to cause pain. Whatever the case may be, I cannot pretend to feel anything but satisfaction that his woeful character has now been exposed for all to see.
Apart from my occasional weakness, we are well here. Spring is upon us, bringing an array of beautiful wild flowers to carpet the fields, and a fresh warmth in the air that makes my thoughts of Aunt all the more painful. James rides out daily with Piero, touring the estate and seeing that the contadini are provided for.
Signor Lazarretti is a frequent visitor whose company we all look forward to with great eagerness. Unfortunately, though, the welcome we accord him has made us some enemies among the other landowners, who fear his influence. James has been accosted more than once in Montalcino on the subject but laughs it off.
Davide tells me that my baby will soon begin to hear us! At six months, he says, the foetus is aware and can even enjoy music (although we are dubious as to the pleasure provided by Piero's fiddle-playing!). Already, says Davide, my baby rocks to the beat of my heart. But he also says it will be a boy, which saddens me slightly, although we could, I suppose call him Julian.
Please relay my fondest, most loving thoughts to Aunt. Please care for her, as I know you must be, with your tenderest attentions. We pray for her daily, and hope fervently for a miracle. They do happen, and there is no person in the world more deserving of one.
You are both in our constant thoughts.
Newly and gratefully,
Your niece,
Lydia
---oOo---
Shepheard Hotel
Cairo
April 20th 1869
Dear Sister,
At long last I have some time to sit down and write to you. Please forgive my long silents. So much has happened to me, as I know it has to you too.
First, let me say congratulations on your being with child. Whatever Father may say, I am happy for you, and for James Hastings. I hope this letter finds you in good health and in happiness too.
I left Hartwell Hall, I am somewhat ashamed to say, in stealth, early on New Year's Day. Aunt Julia, who was not at all well, had paid us a visit after Christmas that turned out to be extremely breef. She had warned me privately, as soon as she arrived, that she had come to inform Father that you had eloped to Italy with James, and that there was likely to be a stormy interview in the offing.
So it proved. Father was livid. I heard him bellowing at Aunt in his study for some quarter of an hour, before he sent her away, shouting, "Never darken my door again."
I was in the hall when Aunt appeared. She was crying. She gave me a hug, said, "I'm sorry, Cecil," got into her carridge and left for London.
Mother was upstairs in bed throughout, having retired earlier with a slight infection.
Father summoned me to his study and accused me of being a coward and a weakling for allowing you to take my place at Greystones. I wanted to tell him just what an awful place it is, and how mistaken he was about Kendrick, but the truth of his accusation hurt so much, it was all I could do to hold back my tears.
Father must have spoken to Miss Jameson, for she appeared soon after in my room.
"Cecil," she said. "You are to be punished. Follow me."
She led me to the schoolroom where she made me take down my trousers and touch my toes. To my surprise, she then left me there, with instructions not to move. Of course, I did: I got up and rubbed my bottom vigorously to try and prepare it a little. Not that there is anything one can really do to lessen the pain of Miss J's ferule!
