The erotic life of Victorians (and Edwardians, if push comes to Prince)

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From the diary of Lord Greville:

Originally Posted by Diary of Lord Greville

March 19th [1842].—This day Lord Hertford is buried at Ragley, a man whose death excited much greater interest than anything he ever did in his life, because the world was curious to learn the amount of his wealth, and how he had disposed of it. A pompous funeral left Dorchester House three days ago, followed by innumerable carriages of private individuals,' pretending to show a respect which not one of them felt for the deceased; on the contrary, no man ever lived more despised or died less regretted. His life and his death were equally disgusting and revolting to every good and moral feeling. As Lord Yarmouth he was known as a sharp, cunning, luxurious, avaricious man of the world, with some talent, the favourite of George IV. (the worst of kings) when Lady Hertford, his mother, was that Prince's mistress. He was celebrated for his success at play, by which he supplied himself with the large sums of money required for his pleasures, and which his father had no inclination to give him, and the son had none to ask of him.

He won largely, not by any cheating or unfairness, but by coolness, calculation, always backing the best players, and getting the odds on his side. He was a bon vivant, and when young and gay his parties were agreeable, and he contributed his share to their hilarity. But after he became Lord Hertford and the possessor of an enormous property he was puffed up with vulgar pride, very unlike the real scion of a noble race; he loved nothing but dull pomp and ceremony, and could only endure people who paid him court and homage.

After a great deal of coarse and vulgar gallantry, generally purchased at a high rate, he formed a connexion with Lady Strachan, which thenceforward determined all the habits of his life. She was a very infamous and shameless woman, and his love after some years was changed to hatred; and she, after getting very large sums out of him, married a Sicilian. But her children, three daughters, he in a manner adopted; though eventually all his partiality centred upon one, Charlotte by name, who married Count Zichy-Ferraris, a Hungarian nobleman. She continued to live with Hertford on and off, here and abroad, until his habits became in his last years so ostentatiously crapulous that her residence in his house, in England at least, ceased to be compatible with common decency. She was, however, here till within a week or ten days of his death, and her departure appears curiously enough to have led to the circumstances which immediately occasioned it.

There has been, as far as I know, no example of undisguised debauchery exhibited to the world like that of Lord Hertford, and his age and infirmities rendered it at once the more remarkable and the more shocking. Between sixty and seventy years old, broken with various infirmities, and almost unintelligible from a paralysis of the tongue, he has been in the habit of travelling about with a company of prostitutes, who formed his principal society, and by whom he was surrounded up to the moment of his death, generally picking them up from the dregs of that class, and changing them according to his fancy and caprice. Here he was to be seen driving about the town, and lifted by two footmen from his carriage into the brothel, and he never seems to have thought it necessary to throw the slightest veil over the habits he pursued.

For some months or weeks past he lived at Dorchester House, and the Zichys with him; but every day at a certain hour his women, who were quartered elsewhere, arrived, passed the greater part of the day, and one or other of them all the night in his room. He found the presence of the Countess Zichy troublesome and embarrassing to his pleasures, and he made her comprehend that her absence would not be disagreeable to him, and accordingly she went away. He had then been ill in bed for many days, but as soon as she was gone, as if to celebrate his liberation by a jubilee, he got up and posted with his seraglio down to Richmond. No room was ready, no fire lit, nevertheless he chose to dine there amidst damp and cold, drank a quantity of champagne, came back chilled and exhausted, took to his bed, grew gradually worse, and in ten days he died.

And what a life, terminating in what a death! without a serious thought or a kindly feeling, lavishing sums incalculable on the worthless objects of his pleasures or caprices, never doing a generous or a charitable action, caring and cared for by no human being, the very objects of his bounty only regarding him for what they could get out of him; faculties, far beyond mediocrity, wasted and degraded, immersed in pride without dignity, in avarice and sensuality; all his relations estranged from him, and surrounded to the last by a venal harem, who pandered to the disgusting exigencies lassatw aed nondum satiatce libidinu. He left vast sums to the Strachan family, a considerable legacy to Croker, to whom he had been formerly under obligations, largely provided for his servants, and, with the exception of a few bequests to his executors and one or two other people, and a very large property to an old mistress (formerly Lady Strachan's maid), he left everything to his son Lord Yarmouth, with whom he had always been on very moderate terms.

[rotobott]

I remember him, he used to be a mod

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There is a great deal of ersatz Victorian porn, but less real material that survives. Probably the most well known is the journal, "The Pearl" published for 18 issues in 1879-80.

No. 1 PUBLISHED MONTHLY. July 1879

AN APOLOGY FOR OUR TITLE.

Having decided to bring out a Journal, the Editor racks his brains for a suitable name with which to christen his periodical. Friends are generally useless in an emergency of this kind; they suggest all kinds of impossible names; the following were some of the titles proposed in this instance: "Facts and Fancies," "The Cremorne," "The All Round," "The Monthly Courses," "The Devil's Own," and "Dugdale's Ghost"; the two first had certainly great attractions to our mind, but at last our own ideas have hit upon the modest little "Pearl," as more suitable, especially in the hope that when it comes under the snouts of the moral and hypocritical swine of the world, they may not trample it underfoot, and feel disposed to rend the publisher, but that a few will become subscribers on the quiet. To such better disposed piggywiggys, I would say, for encouragement, that they have only to keep up appearances by regularly attending church, giving to charities, and always appearing deeply interested in moral philanthropy, to ensure a respectable and highly moral character, and that if they only are clever enough never to be found out, they may, sub rosa, study and enjoy the philosophy of life till the end of their days, and earn a glorious and saintly epitaph on their tombstone, when at last the Devil pegs them out.

EDITOR OF THE "PEARL."

The entire contents are available online -- but I am not remembering the rules here, may I post a link? Or just direct folks to consult Google? Its not a banned site . . .

The Pearl is particularly noteworthy for being a foundation of British flagellation literature . . . the serial "Miss Coote's Confession" introduces many situations and names reprised for a century, most notably in the various novels and stories published by "Richard Manton" in Janus and other magazines in the 70s and 80s.

Folks who enjoy the English spanking will have seen the following reprised many times since it first appeared in 1880

"My young lady must smart for this, Miss Pennington," said Miss Birch, with suddenly assumed gravity; "she has been very troublesome lately with these impudent drawings, but this is positively obscene; if she draws one thing she will go to another. Send for Susan to bring my birch rod! I must punish her whilst my blood is warm, as I am too forgiving, and may let her off."

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VintageKell has a fine post on Lillie Langtry, mistress to the Prince of Wales (future Edward VII), here:

http://www.vintage-erotica-forum.com...6&postcount=91

The hottie of the 1870s. She has one of the great bits of mistress repartee:

Edward once complained to her, "I've spent enough on you to build a battleship," whereupon she tartly replied, "And you've spent enough in me to float one"

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A bit more of Lord Hertford and Lady Strachan, from post #1

Lord Hertford (Yarmouth) and Lady Strachan, holding [Ovid's] Art of Love, sit together on a sofa behind an ornate table, looking at Liston as Paul Pry (left) who stands holding hat and umbrella in his characteristic attitude: Hertford exclaims Cursed intruder!! Paul Pry (see BM Satires 15138): Beg pardon hope I dont intrude, merely drop't in to see who & who's together, snug Tete a Tete! eh? do as you'd be done by, that's the time of day, quite correct, a great change in affairs, fresh Election new Members—don't like Female Vote-ries prefer Hertford to Warwick eh? better prospects, move in Style now eh? plenty of Corn there, boxing the Compass, mind a Lee shore, dont sink the Admiral, fare Well, call again shortly don't mean to intrude no. no.—. On the wall are two pictures, a bust portrait of a naval officer with Hertford's hat hung from the frame to hide the head (cf. BM Satires 14704), and The Death blow to Augustus: Hertford as Hercules with a huge club stands over a puny and dandified military officer whose sword he has snatched; the latter, falling back, exclaims: Merciless Wretch to use such power to crush a Worm. On the table are books: All for love and The Ruling Passion. On the floor is an Essay on Gambling Bed to the—[? King] D. York D. Devon &c &c. May 29 1826

Artist is Henry Heath (quite a lot in the style of Gillray, but this is thirty years later). "Paul Pry" is a reference to a then-popular play

The storyline is centered on a comical, idle, meddlesome and mischievous fellow consumed with curiosity. Unable to mind his own business, he's an interfering busybody who conveniently leaves behind an umbrella everywhere he goes in order to have an excuse to return and eavesdrop. At the end, however, Pry becomes a hero for rescuing papers from a well that incriminate more serious troublemakers.[3][4] [5] Cherry Ripe, the 17th century English folk song to words by the English poet Robert Herrick, is adapted into the play.[2]

A much more charitable portrait is painted by Metternich

Originally Posted by Metternich's Memoirs

In my present position I am sure to fall in with people unexpectedly who are able to enlighten me on some point or other. Thus, the Marquis of Hertford (formerly Lord Yarmouth) has fallen into my hands. You have, I am sure, heard of this man. As Lord Yarmouth he for some years took part in politics. He was cousin to the late Lord Castlereagh, and son of the king's old friend. I made his acquaintance in Paris, where he was much with Talleyrand. Since his father's death he has thrown himself into Parliamentary work. He is one of the most distinguished and wealthiest Tories, controls ten votes in the House of Commons, and in general plays the part which the high nobility of England grants to those who know how to profit by their own position and general circumstances.

Neumann met him at Spa, and, as he intended to visit the Ehine, he encouraged him to pay me a visit at Johannisberg. Hearing this from Neumann, I formally invited him. I passed some days with him which opened a new world before my eyes. I had not for many years met with so independent, thoughtful, and clever an Englishman. His words were like echoes of the past. We talked together quite frankly and unreservedly, and I feel sure that he was as pleased with me as I with him. The difference between our final impressions could only be that whereas he could teach me much, it was not in my power to tell him anything new.

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from the web, said to be a quotation from Ashbee's "Index of Forbidden Books

At the early part of this century [the 19th], very sumptuously fitted-up establishments, exclusively devoted to the administration of the birch, were not uncomoon in London; and women of the town served, as it were, an apprenticeship in order to acquire the art of gracefully and effectively administering the rod. It would be easy to form a very lengthy list of these female flagellants, but I shall restrict myself to mention a few only. Mrs Collett was a noted whipper, and George IV is known to have visited her; she had an establishment in Tavistock Court, Covent Garden, whence she removed to the neighbourhood of Portland Place, and afterwards to Bedford Street, Russell Square, where she died. She brought up her niece in the same line, who, as Mrs Mitchell, carried on a successful business in various places, among others at No 22 (afterwards 44) Waterloo Road, and finally at St Mary's Square, Kennington, where she died. Then came Mrs James, who had been maid in the family of Lord Clanricarde; she had a house at No 7 Carlisle Street, Soho; she retired from business with a good fortune, and dwelt at Notting Hill in luxury, her house being decorated with pictures, and her person covered with jewels.

There were, further: Mrs Emma Lee, real name Richardson, of No 50 Margaret Street, Regent Street; Mrs Phillips, of No 11 Upper Belgrave Place, Pimlico; Mrs Shepherd, of No 25 Gilbert Street; Mrs Sarah Potter, alias Stewart, of various addresses, who died in 1873; and, were it not indiscreet, I might add the names of one or two other ladies who still carry on their calling. But the queen of her profession was undoubtedly Mrs Theresa Berkley, of No 28 Charlotte Street, Portland Place; she was a perfect mistress of her art, understood how to satisfy her clients, and was, moreover, a thorough woman of business, for she amassed during her career a considerable sum of money...

"Her instruments of torture were more numerous than those of any other governess. Her supply of birch was extensive, and kept in water, so that it was always green and pliant: she had shafts with a dozen whip thongs on each of them; a dozen different sizes of cat-o'-nine-tails, some with needle points worked into them; various kinds of thin bending canes; leather straps like coach traces; battledoors, made of thick sole-leather, with inch nails run through to docket, and currycomb tough hides rendered callous by many years flagellation. Holly brushes, furze brushes; a prickly evergreen, called butcher's bush; and during the summer, a glass and China vases, filled with a constant supply of green nettles, with which she often restored the dead to life. Thus, at her shop, whoever went with plenty of money, could be birched, whipped, fustigated, scourged, needle-pricked, half-hung, holly-brushed, furze-brushed, butcher-brushed, stinging-nettled, curry-combed, phletbotomized, and tortured till he had a belly full.

"For those whose lech it was to flog a woman, she would herself submit to a certain extent; but if they were gluttons at it, she had women in attendance who would take any number of lashes the flogger pleased, provided he forked out an ad valorem duty. Among these were Miss Ring, Hannah Jones, Sally Taylor, One-eyed Peg, Bauld-cunted Poll, and a black girl, called Ebony Bet.

"A notorious machine was invented for Mrs Berkley to flog gentlemen upon, in the spring of 1828. It is capable of being opened to a considerable extent, so as to bring the body to any angle that might be desirable. There is a print in Mrs Berkley's memoirs, representing a man upon it quite naked. A woman is sitting in a chair exactly under it, with her bosom, belly, and bush exposed: she is manualizing his embolon, whilst Mrs Berkley is birching his posteriors. The female acting as frictrix, was intended for Fisher, a fine, tall, dark-haired girl, all must remember who visited Charlotte Street at that day, as well as the good humoured blonde, Willis; the plump, tight, frisky and merry arsed Thrulow; Grenville, with the enormous bubbies; Bentine, with breadth of hip and splendour of buttock; Olive, the gipsy, whose brown skin, wicked black eye, and Medicean form, would melt an anchorite; the mild and amiable Palmer, with luxuriant and well-fledged mount, from whose tufted honors many a noble lord had stolen a sprig; and Pryce, the pleasing and complaisant, who, if birch was a question, could both give and take.

"When the new flogging machine was invented, the designer told her it would bring her into notice, and go by her name after her death; and it did cause her to be talked of, and brought her a great deal of business. She died in September, 1836, having funded ten thousand pounds during the eight years she had been a governess. The original horse is among the models of the Society of Arts at the Adelphi, and was presented by Doctor Vance, her executor.

"Mrs Berkley has also in her second floor, a hook and pulley attached to the ceiling, by which she could draw a man up by his hands. This operation is also represented in her memoirs." [...]

Shortly after her death, her brother, who had been a missionary for 30 years in Australia, arrived in England, but when he learned the source from which the property she had left him had been derived, he renounced all claim, and immediately went back to Australia. In default, the property was bequeathed to Dr Vance, her medical attendant and executor; but he refused to administer, and the whole was escheated to the crown. Dr Vance came into possession of her correspondence, several boxes full, which, I am assured by one who examined it, was of the most extraordinary character, containing letters from the highest personages, male and female, in the land. The whole was eventually destroyed.

Many of these women, there can be little doubt, took an interest, if not a pleasure, in their vocation. The following is extracted from the correspondence of a gentleman still living, a passionate devotee of the birch, and one who is worthy of all confidences in matters connected to flagellation:

"In my experience I have known personally several ladies of high rank who had an extraordinary passion for administering the rod, and that too wtih merciless severity . I knew too the wife of a clergyman, young and pretty, who carried the taste to excess. I have known one only who liked receiving it, and she was quite of the lowest order; when excited by drink, she would allow herself to be birched until her bottom was utterly raw, and the rod saturated with blood, she crying out during the operation 'harder! harder!' and blaspheming if it was not well laid on. At the establishment I have named (existing at present in London, but of which I suppress the name) there come twenty young girls who go through all the phases of schoolmistress, and whip fearfully severely. The programmes sent by the pupils are extraordinary - some like to be whipped as children on the knee, some on the back of a servant, others to be strapped down."

It is a well-known fact that women are, and always have been, even more fond of wielding the rod than men, and this passion pervades the higher, rather than the lower classes.

[Ru553ll]

"My Secret Life" may be of interest here. Its the memoirs, apparently genuine, of a singleminded sex enthusiast called 'Walter'. The context does suggest the prudery the Victorians are famous for is just a public face.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Secr..._%28erotica%29

[mysecretlife]

Has anyone read the entire unabridged autobiography of My Secret Life? and if so what opinions formed of Walter, the story's extraordinary protagonist?

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Originally Posted by mysecretlife

Has anyone read the entire unabridged autobiography of My Secret Life? and if so what opinions formed of Walter, the story's extraordinary protagonist?

I read the Grove Press edition, years ago. I don't remember whether it was abridged or not.

The author is thought to be Henry Spencer Ashbee, who were he still alive, would surely be on this forum. A great connoisseur of erotica, and probably the author of this work

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Spencer_Ashbee

In the UK, Channel Four did a program some years ago: "Walter: The Secret Life of a Victorian Pornographer" -- I've never seen it, but it would be much appreciated if someone knew of a source.

[mysecretlife]

yes indeed, it has been on my list to find the Channel 4 documentary for some time. I think the bfi might be a good starting point. I shall let you know if I have any success there