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When Sir Adelbert Rakewell departed from this Earth, in accordance with the hallowed custom of primogeniture, he bequeathed his titles and the entirety of his estate to his elder son, August Rakewell, a a singularly stuffy and pompous young man whose principal concern was propriety. This left his younger son, the Honourable (HAH !) Thomas Rakewell, Esq. , never having learnt anything which might even conceivably be of any use in earning a living, entirely dependent upon the largesse of his older brother. Thomas' steadfast devotion to drinkin', gamblin', and wenchin' led to Sir August's wholehearted agreement with Tom's desire to live in London, or ANYWHERE, as long as it was far enough away from Rakewell Hall, Snips Geldings, Hants., the ancestral home of the Rakewells. Thus it was that, by 1732, Thomas found himself ensconced in comfortable, if modest, digs on the outskirts of London and rapidly accepted into the ranks of the rakes and roaring boys of that Metropolis. Tom retained a manservant named Joseph who served primarily as a valet, and a housekeeper, Mrs. Gudgeon, who reluctantly entered the young bachelor's pigstye weekly to endeavour to establish some semblance of cleanliness and order, as Thomas often arrived home late at night, excessively drunk and puked in the entryway. Having observed early on the effects of the clap and the pox on some of his companions, Tom was fastidious enough to avoid swiving streetwalkers or any but the best class of whores. His predominant passion, however, was for virgins. Gifted with a face which would set any female heart to palpitating, and hypnotic bedroom eyes and being excitingly well hung, the latter emphasized by the almost painful tightness of his breeches, Tom was well-nigh irresistible to any maiden on whom he might have set his sights. Tom's luck was truly phenomenal. Not only did he neither contract nor transmit either the clap or the French disease, but he had managed so far not to get a single ex-maiden with whom he had lain with child. Most of his comrades had begotten at least one bastard and had been hard-pressed to make the matter right with the unwed mother's family without resort to the dreadful alternative of marriage. Tom was not much concerned with the former maiden's honour which he considered of little value.Thus, he had managed not to have to send any begging letters to his brother asking for money to buy off irate parents. This is NOT to say that he sent Sir August no begging letters. Living within his means was definitely not Tom's forte. The money was nowhere as annoying to Sir August (It was worth almost any sum to keep Tom in London.) , as the flippant, overly familiar, and disrespectful tone of the letters in which Tom invariably addressed him sarcastically as "Sir Knight." So it was that Tom was not at all disturbed to receive a visit one morning from an elderly crone whose daughter's maidenhead he had pierced, to his own great pleasure the previous night. The old woman demanded monetary compensation for her daughter's virginity and her honour, pointing out that the girl had been rendered less marriagible by the loss of her maidenhead. "Her honour ?" laughed Tom. "Why, of course. Here is the value of her honour: 1s. 6d." which he gave the mother in the form of a shilling, thruppence, tuppence, and a penny. In a rage, the crone threw the coins into Tom's face, cutting his cheek and left vowing revenge.Tom laughed heartily and Joseph applied vinegar and brown paper to his cheek. Tom stayed out late on the evening of the following day, gamblin'and drinkin' and emerged from the tavern to find a typical London pea-soup fog. Worse, it was the night of the new moon and the streets were pitch black. A glimjack [link boy or torch bearer] approached and said "Loight yer wye 'ome m'lord ? aonly sixp'nce." (The "m'lord", of course, was sheer flattery.) Tom agreed to the price and , giving the "moon curser" his address, was guided to within sight of his dwelling. There he gave the lad a sixpence and dismissed him. No sooner were boy and his light out of sight thanfive dark figures, apparently dressed in dominoes, surrounded Tom. Before Tom could make any outcry, a handful of rags were stuffed into his mouth and strapped in place with a band of cloth. Four of the five figures held him by his ankles and arms so that he was effectively immobilised. The fifth person pulled Tom's breeches and his small clothes down. As a claw-like hand closed over his stones, Tom struggled and tried to scream, to no avail. Tom felt the bitter edge of a knife-blade against his bag. Suddenly, there was an instant of searing pain and then something which he could not clearly see in the darkness was being held up before his eyes, he knew that it had to be his bag and bollocks. With a muffled despairing wail, Tom swooned. When he awoke, his assailants were gone.....and so were his stones. Tom fumbled in his pocket, seeking the key to his front door, but, in his confusion and pain, could not find it. He pulled out the gag and staggered to his door, bleeding profusely. Tom pounded on the door and shouted "Joseph, come quickly for I am sore hurt !" After a while, Joseph came down and opened the door, holding a candle, and saw there his master wild-eyed with his breeches and small-clothes down, bleedingt from the groin. Joseph seated Tom on a chair and fetched a towel which he stuffed between Tom's thighs. Then he fetched a lanthorn and ventured out into the night in search of a chirurgeon. Tom was unconscious when Joseph returned with a barber-surgeon who was able to stanch the bleeding and cauterise the wound. Joseph and the barber-surgeon carried Tom to his bed and the barber-surgeon advised Joseph to give Tom salty meat broth and wine of Oporto to make up for the loss of blood and promised to send a physician in the morning to treat the fever. Dangerously weak and feverish, Tom passed a bad night. The physician came at 8:00 in the morning and administered a decoction of white willow bark as a febrifuge and approved the salty mutton broth and wine of Oporto to help Tom build up more blood to replace what he had lost. The fever broke in the early evening and Tom slept soundly and naturally the following night. The next day, a bailiff questioned Tom about the attack, but Tom could not identify any of his assailants, and, though he strongly suspected the old harridan who had thrown the coins into his face, Tom felt it best not to mention that matter. Tom was bedridden for a fortnight and, from the obstinate flaccidity of his yard each morning, it became clear to Tom that he was almost surely impotent, as might well be expected, having lost the source of his manhood.Though Tom was not givenj to the practise of onanism, he did take his formerly virile member in hand and endeavour to induce its wonted rgidity. The best that he was able to produce was a halfsoft swelling of the yard, and no amountof further manipulation would bring about any great pleasure nor, as was to be expected, any discharge of mettle. And so, Tom was forced to recognise that he could neither fuck nor toss off. His life had become as empty as his groin. Of course, he still possessed his yard, but it was of no use to him except to pass water. As he walked about after finally rising from his bed a fortnight after the attack, Tom was acutely aware of the emptiness between his thighs.Though he had never really noticed the sensations of his stones bumping against his thighs or swinging back and forth inside his breeches, he was very aware of their absence. Tom became deeply melancholy and sat in a chair by the window staring listlessly out into the street. His drinking and gaming companions showed what kind of friends they were . None of them visited him or seemed aware that anything had happened to him. Tom felt that he had lost not only his virility, but his youth and his strength. None of the pursuits which had shortly ago occupied most of his time appealed to him now at all Drinking had lost its charm. Deflowering vrgins was impossible. Gambling seemed pointless. He had never been religious and was certainly no more so now. Memories of his childhood in Snips Geldings came flooding back into his mind. He was no longer a man, and an attempt to return to the joys of childhood before the sinful pleasures of adulthood had taken over his mind began more and more to appeal to him. There was huntin' and fishin' and just lyin' in a meadow lookin' up at the clouds, and these joyful memories moved him to tears. For the very first time, Tom wrote a serious respectful letter to his older brother,August. Instead of beginning "Ho, Sir Knight, Greetings to your "August" self.....", it began "My dear Brother." I am disgusted with the tawdry pleasures of London. I desire nothing more than I do to return to the home where I spent the happy years of my boyhood. I knowthat I have been a nuisance and embarassment to you. That is, I assure you, ended.If I am allowed to return to Rakewell Hall, I shall give you no occasion to regret my return. I have suffered a most grievous loss in London which I shall explain to you when we meet and which has made me best suited to a quiet life of retirement as a country squire. I anxiously await your reply which I hope will be favourable. Your Contrite Brother, Thomas" A week later, the brothers met at the door of Rakewell Hall. Boith had changed. Sir August had gone rather beyond embonpoint into obesity, becoming ponderous and great-bellied, resembling Falstaff in his old age.Tom was now wide of hip, thick of thigh, and prominent of bum. Little concealed by his shirt and weskit were a pair of very feminine-looking breasts. Sir August, never the soul of diplomacy or tact,exclaimed "Well, Tom, you've become deucedly strange-looking, I must say." Once inside the house and seated opposite his brother, Tom explained why he looked so "deucedly strange." For once, Sir August expressed sympathy for his unfortunate brother and the matter was never again discussed. Of course, Tom never married and was unable to enlarge the tribe of Rakewells, but he settled into the role of a country squire and became an affectionate, indeed doting, uncle to his brother's offspring, ultimately seven in number. |