(The conclusion of the 'Servants' Hall' thrashing of a pair of naughty 19th Century English country boys) :
That, however, was an outsider's view. The seventh stroke of the birch, lashing Bobby's bare bum just above the middle of both cheeks, was probably the worst of all for the suffering boy. He knew that it was his own father who was then flogging him and that he should expect no mercy. The hot, penetrating sting of the thin, multiple switches, curling round and biting into his naked haunches and rein- flaming many of the livid welts which already virtually covered them, was almost unbearable and he sang out lustily as the blazing agony rushed to all his extremities and he could feel his bum begin to sizzle like a slice of bacon in a fryingpan.
Meanwhile Craig was having no easier a time. His bottom, while not as widely striped as Bobby's, was already emblazoned with six hard, crimson welts, which were then being augmented by yet further stinging slashes of the lithe length of malacca which was being used on him. None of the staff, other than the Butler, had never beaten him before but the hefty young groom who was then wielding the cane, was certainly making up for lost time on this occasion. Three hissing, scorching strokes rained down in a steady, measured cadence, to land squarely across both bare cheeks and, Craig was certain, to slice them so wide open that he would probably bleed to death. The heat building up in his whipped rump was perhaps the hardest of all to bear, as its burn, unlike its sting, seemed to keep on increasing in between strokes until it felt as though his naked tail was being pressed down into a bed of glowing coals.
Added to that was the knowledge that, no sooner had the four men finished caning his bare bum than they would start flogging it with those nasty, vicious birches which he had seen and heard being used on his accomplice's equally exposed bottom. He made himself a private promise to get even with Billy, whom he liked well enough, but who had been responsible for so expertly constructing the birch rods which were being used to such good purpose on his and Bobby's bare backsides and at that, he was not even aware of the full extent of Billy's contribution to the severity of their punishment. But then all thoughts of vengeance were driven from his mind by the need to concentrate on coping with the consuming heat and sting of the last four strokes of his caning. He wrapped his fingers round Bobby's wrists and felt his friend's whole body jerking as his naked bottom flinched and bucked under the stinging licks of the birch.
The beatings had, by then, taken on a regular rhythm of alternate strokes of birch and cane, so that every swish-splat-yell was followed by a hiss-snap-howl as each boy, arching his back and kicking his bare feet in a fruitless attempt at reducing the agony in his hindquarters, found himself looking into the others pain-racked face and, strangely, taking some comfort from his friend's strength and the knowledge that they were nearly halfway home.
Then, though, the same thought struck them both. HALFWAY!! With buttocks already feeling little better than four lumps of roasting meat, they each still had to suffer a further 12 lashes with yet untried instruments. While Craig had often been both birched and caned, he had never experienced either punishment straight after the other, while Bobby, of course, was undergoing a totally new experience and one for which no previous, ordinary, hiding had even vaguely prepar- ed him.
The final changes of hands took place, the last few spots of unwhipped skin on Bobby's comprehensively flogged tail were filled in with yet more thin, red weals and both cheeks began to show the dark pink film of sweat mixed with the drops of blood which are always drawn by a sound birching and which gave the impression that his buttocks were bleeding freely, which was far from the case.
Craig, meanwhile, had twelve separate, flaming bars of concentrated agony etched into his naked hindquarters. He felt as though he was past feeling any more pain and yet he knew that, once one of those birches began touching up the already welted and sore skin of his bottom, he was going to be taken into a new dimension of agony and he clung all the more tightly to Bobby's wrists and tried, fruitlessly, to brace his backside against the expected torture.
By then both boys were, in spite of themselves, singing out loudly as each successive cut licked a bare bum and, in all conscience, their four small, naked buttocks were so thoroughly welted and waled that it was difficult to see how a further dozen strokes could be laid across them without leaving both backsides completely raw.
There was a definite pause as the canes and the remaining birch rods were passed across the table, over the half-naked bodies of their victims and the four men who, in fairness, had not been hitting either boy nearly as hard as they could have, had their first good looks at the results of their efforts thus far. These were one pair of uniformly red and glowing buttocks, literally covered with thin raised ridges of welted flesh and another pair which was divided into many segments by the series of thicker red-turning-purple weals which crossed them from flank to flank and were linked by the darken- ing bruising of the flesh in between the welts.
With a dozen solid cane stripes already literally under his belt, the temptation to burst into tears was almost too strong for Craig to resist, but, at that moment he felt Bobby's fingers dig, quite painfully, into his wrists and he returned the reassuring pressure; there was nothing that they couldn't get through together and, thinking almost lasciviously about what their tails would look and feel like, later that evening and what they would probably do about them, Craig suffered the first three strokes of his birching almost without flinching and braced himself for his last nine far more resol- utely than he had been able to do before Bobby's encouraging squeeze.
There is, however, something about a birch stroke which is unique and sets it apart from even the hardest cut with a cane. No stranger to having to drop his trousers for the birch at school, Craig was still taken by surprise by the concentrated agony which the first stroke of his birching produced in his already well-caned rear end. He heard the cane, which weas being plied across the table, meet Bobby's bare bum with its sharp, vicious crack and then the rafters rang with two yells of protest as both naked backsides exploded in agony and tortured nerves passed their messages through rigid young bodies.
At that point, the principal difference between what the two lads were suffering was that, in Bobby's case, each stroke of the cane was crossing a pair of buttocks which was alrady whipped bright red, with the result that he was feeling a knifelike bar of red-hot pain burning into his cheeks, while Craig, whose bum was criss-crossed with separate weals, was experiencing a rush of stinging heat which seemed to be wash- ing backwards and forwards over and through his rigidly clenched tail muscles, each wave leaving them hotter and smarting more than the previous one had done.
Looking down at the two most soundly thrashed bottoms that any of them had ever seen, the four men were all strongly tempted to call off the balance of the punishments, but none had the nerve to be the first to show 'softness', so, fortified by the knowledge that, in spite of their small size, the bottoms of pre-teenaged boys are perfectly adapted to absorb severe beating, they set about completing their not altogether unwelcome tasks vigorously enough to ensure that both boys would remember that evening's sojourn in the servants' hall and their introduction to an alternative and no less brutal form of 'bloodsport' to foxhunting, for many a long day.
By that stage, all four men had decided, independently, that further thrashing of the already heavily welted and discoloured buttocks would injure the boys and they all therefore directed their remaining strokes at areas which were still largely unwhipped. In the result, virtual- ly all the remaining strokes of both birch and cane were aimed at the notoriously sensitive 'crease' and upper thigh areas of both half naked bodies, causing the two young rascals, who were wishing that they had never even heard the word 'fox', to also wish that their tormentors were not being so 'merciful' towards them!
In actual fact, being flogged second was proving to be to Craig's disadvantage, as the last two men to use the birch on his red and swollen bum had got their eyes well in and were aiming their strokes at the side of his left cheek, with the result that the tips if the twigs, which, in spite of being applied much less vigorously than before, were wrapping round his left buttock and finding their way into the deep cleft between the two globes of flesh, performing a service there which could not have been duplicated anywhere on the surface of his well beaten backside and which was to remind him of his flogging long after his bottom, as such, had fully recovered from its ordeal.
That was not to say that the last part of Bobby's caning was any easier to bear. Having produced a broad band of welted skin in and just below the union of buttocks and thighs, with two cuts to go, Charles Thomas aimed those strokes in a neat cross over both small, naked haunches and was both surprised and apologetic when the bare, glowing cheeks suddenly became dappled with spots of bright red young blood, drawn where each diagonal cane stripe had bitten into an existing welt and also sunk into the spaces betwen, which had been more superficially wealed by the birch.
And then, without warning, it was all over and two very chastened little boys were being freed from each others death grip and were being eased off the table until burning, tingling legs took their weight, four hands flew to flaming rear ends in a hopeless attempt at rubbing away at least some of the throbbing, blinding agony concentrated there and the two trouserless culprits started the almost lewd jig which has been performed by generations of bare-tailed and just thrashed boys, without regard for either decency or modesty, although this time, their loose nightshirts soon shook down to cover their genitals and blazing backsides and to put an end to THAT embarrassing spectacle.
On the Earl's specific instructions, the boys were then taken up to his study, where, putting an arm consolingly round each pair of by then shaking shoulders, he explained why they had been so severely punished [not that that made their bottoms any less sore] and also told them, to their further horror, that, to round off their punishments they would be required, over the next two days, to call at the home of every lady and gentleman who was to have ridden to hounds that day and all of whose names were listed, both to apologise and to offer to show them proof of their having been so soundly punished.
The boys protested violently at this further humiliation, but his Lord- ship was unmoved and added that he would check up on them and that, should they fail to complete their round within two days or to apolo- gise as instructed, he would have them both thrashed again. Whether this threat would ever have been carried out is uncertain, as its mere existence was enough to spur the pair into the necessary, very uncom- fortable, action.
How they spent the rest of the night or set about soothing their own and each others wounded tails, was never revealed; suffice it to say that, quite early next morning and contrary to all expectations, the two ponies were saddled up and were mounted by their respective owners, who, however, did so rather stiffly and cautiously, instead of with their usual wild whoops and leaps into their saddles. It then emerged that they had worked out that their only hope of completing the almost 40 mile 'apology' circuit in time, was to do so on horseback, in a figure 8, one loop per day. There, Craig's experience of having to participate in school sports immediately, or, at least, soon, after a flogging or a caning, had taught him that even such soundly beaten bottoms as they were then sporting, would soon enough become desensitis- ed by continuous contact with hard saddle leather and that, apart from some muscular soreness, two days in the saddle would probably hasten, rather than retard, the healing of their cut and bruised seats.
In addition Bobby, ever the practical one, having no wish to risk a further whipping and being far less convinced than Craig of the 'honour' of the 'gentry', had taken the precaution of converting their calling list into an improvised receipt by writing across the top, in his round, childish hand: "Lord Craig and Bobby said sorry and showed me", the blank right portion of the page, opposite the names, being left, he said, for 'them to write their names and the day on'.
The Earl had told his guests, who had, of course, heard the unmistake- able sounds of young boys under firm corporal correction, about the proposed extension of their penalty, with the result that the pair came in for a fair amount of good-natured teasing over the next two days as they trotted, in preference to cantering, round their circuit. This reached its zenith on the second morning, at the home of a certain Major Alcott, who had assembled his entire household and armed him- self with a vicious-looking riding crop in preparation for the boys' arrival.
Whereas most of the gentlemen, although very few of the ladies, who were visited, had spared the lads the embarrassment of showing off their well-thrashed behinds, the Major, pretending still to be furious, had not only made them drop their breeches and lift their shirts in front of everyone, but had announced his disappointment with the results of the whippings that had already been administered and had indicated that he intended to 'do the job properly' with another dozen or so strokes of the crop.
It says much for the attitude of the youth of those times that it never occurred to either boy to refuse to submit to this futher, quite unjustified, beating and both had obediently bent over, bare-tailed, to receive yet further chastisement. The Major, however, having had his fun, simply touched each pair of tense, naked buttocks lightly with the crop and then told the two red-faced, but very relieved, lads to stand and pull up their breeches, whereupon they joined in the general mirth at their expense, which was proved to be a token of forgiveness by the plentiful supply of cakes, sweets and other refreshments, with which the boys were regaled and then sent on their way.
In the result, their round was completed well within the time allowed, the Earl accepted Bobby's 'receipt' as proof of fulfilment and the incident was regarded as closed as far as the adults were concerned.
However, it not only had the effect of cementing the boys' friendship, but, so impressed was Craig by Bobby's fortitude under what had been, for him, an unprecedentedly severe thrashing, his careful attention to detail and his calming influence on his, Craig's, desire to get even with Billy, (on the basis that 'our turn will come'), that Craig devoted much of the rest of his holiday to nagging his father into sponsorong Bobby's attendance at Craig's Public School, subject, of course, to his passing the necessary entrance examination, which both boys regarded as a foregone conclusion, as it in fact proved to be.
The boys' friendship proved to be a lifelong one and, in due course led to their forming one of the first of the great "Peer Commoner" partner- ships which were founded on absolute mutual trust and for which the City of London was to become famous during the latter part of the 19th Cent- ury. As Craig often said, if you could trust someone to hold you down while his own bum was being set on fire, you could trust him with any- thing. Over the years, the two, as boys and as men, lived and worked in almost complete harmony, the only point on which they could never agree being whether it was worse (or, according to Craig, better) to be caned across a newly-birched bottom or to be flogged on a freshly-caned one.
Craig, who was to become a sportsman of note, as well as a hero of sev- eral campaigns, remained staunchly opposed to foxhunting throughout his life and when he, as the 8th Earl, took his seat in the House, he made his maiden speech, which was far better received by the Whig majority of the time than by his own Tory associates, on that subject. No-one present on that, or any of the many subsequent occasions when he mounted that particular hobby-horse, could ever fathom why Mr. (later Sir) Robert Rowles, who served his Queen and two Kings as a Minister of State, always seemed to be highly amused when the Earl, at the height of a fervent appeal for abolition and just before uttering his famous warcry of "Down with ALL bloodsports", would always abandon his telling, eloquent gesticulations, clasp both hands firmly under the tails of his silver-grey Morning Coat, so that they rested, almost protectively, on his trim, muscular rump and emphasise the word "all" slightly, as he did so.
There did, however, remain one party whose bare backside still had a price to pay for his involvment in that day's events, but that tail belongs in another tale.