Frederick Hankey  

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"Hankey himself is a remarkable man, quite a study, he appears to me like a second de Sade without the intellect. He has given himself up body & soul to the erotic mania, thinks of nothing else, lives for nothing else."--Ashbee in his personal journal


"I have this day visited a maniac, a monster, one of those who are on the border of the abyss. This case has enabled me, as it were, by a veil rent in twain, to perceive the abominable depth to which the English aristocracy has fallen, and the frightful aspect of these scions of noble blood surfeited with gold, who combine ferocity with love, and whose debauchery can find satisfaction only in the sufferings of woman."--the Goncourts on Frederick Hankey


"It was the writer who had the satisfaction of introducing the editor of Le Livre to the collector of the Rue Laffitte, March 9th, 1882. We had been dining together—Octave Uzanne, Félicien Rops and myself—when it was proposed to look up Hankey and spend the rest of the evening with him. We reached No 2 Rue Laffitte some time after ten o'clock, and found Hankey in his usual dishabille—short velvet coat, shirt without neck-tie, thin trowsers, thinner socks, and slippers. There was no fire or other artificial heat, in spite of the low temperature of the atmosphere. Knowing that I was in Paris, my visit was not altogether unexpected, but he would certainly have wished to receive my distinguished friends, especially the terrible creator of the Chevalier Kerhany, with more state. We were however appreciative guests, and restraint soon gave way to admiration in presence of Hankey's treasures ; and our visit was protracted far into the night, or I should say following morning."--Catena Librorum Tacendorum

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Frederick Hankey (1823, Corfu, Greece - 1882) was a British bibliophile.

Contents

Biography

He was the son of Sir Frederick Hankey (1800-1855). Retiring from the military as a Captain in the Guards in 1840, Hankey moves to Paris where he indulges in his passion of erotic literature, particularly of the sadistic variety. Ashbee compared him to Marquis de Sade "without the intellect". Hankey supplied sado-masochistic erotica to Swinburne, Richard Burton and Richard Monckton Milnes, 1st Baron Houghton.

Grumpy Old Bookman notes:

"The brothers Goncourt met Hankey in Paris, describing him in their journal (in translation) as 'a madman, a monster, one of those men who live on the edge of the abyss.' Through him, they wrote, they had a glimpse of 'a terrible side to a wealthy blasé aristocracy -- the English aristocracy -- who bring ferocious cruelty to love and whose licentiousness can only be aroused by the woman's sufferings.'
Thus Hankey may, for all I know, single-handedly be responsible for the the coining of the French term 'le vice anglais'."


Frederick Hankey as featured in the Goncourt journal

French original

"Aujourd’hui j’ai visité un fou, un monstre, un de ces hommes qui confinent à l’abîme. Par lui, comme par un voile déchiré, j’ai entrevu un fonds abominable, un côté effrayant d’une aristocratie d’argent blasée, de l’aristocratie anglaise apportant la férocité dans l’amour, et dont le libertinage ne jouit que par la souffrance de la femme. Au bal de l’Opéra, il avait été présenté à Saint-Victor un jeune Anglais, qui lui avait dit simplement, en manière d’entrée de conversation “qu’on ne trouvait guère à s’amuser à Paris, que Londres était infiniment supérieur, qu’à Londres il y avait une maison très bien, la maison de mistress Jenkins, où étaient des jeunes filles d’environ treize ans, auxquelles d’abord on faisait la classe, puis qu’on fouettait, les petites, oh! pas très fort, mais les grandes tout à fait fort. On pouvait aussi leur enfoncer des épingles, des épingles non pas très longues, longues seulement comme ça, et il nous montrait le bout de son doigt. “Oui, on voyait le sang!…” Le jeune Anglais ajoutait placidement et posément: “Moi j’ai les goûts cruels, mais je m’arrête aux hommes et aux animaux… Dans le temps, j’ai loué, avec un ami, une fenêtre, pour une grosse somme, afin de voir une assassine qui devait être pendue, et nous avions avec nous des femmes pour leur faire des choses – il a l’expression toujours extrêmement décente – au moment où elle serait pendue. Même nous avions fait demander au bourreau de lui relever un peu sa jupe, à l’assassine! En la pendant… Mais c’est désagréable, la Reine, au dernier moment, a fait grâce. Donc aujourd’hui Saint-Victor m’introduit chez ce terrible original. C’est un jeune homme d’une trentaine d’années, chauve, les tempes renflées comme une orange, les yeux d’un bleu clair et aigu, la peau extrêmement fine et laissant voir le réseau sous-cutané des veines, la tête – c’est bizarre-la tête d’un de ces jeunes prêtres émaciés et extatiques, entourant les évêques dans les vieux tableaux. Un élégant jeune homme ayant un peu de raideur dans les bras, et les mouvements de corps, à la fois mécaniques et fiévreux d’une personne attaquée d’un commencement de maladie de la moelle épinière, et avec cela d’excellentes façons, une politesse exquise, une douceur de manières toute particulière. Il a ouvert un grand meuble à hauteur d’appui, où se trouve une curieuse collection de livres érotiques, admirablement reliés, et tout en me tendant un Meibomius, Utilité de la flagellation dans les plaisirs de l'amour et du mariage, relié par un des premiers relieurs de Paris avec des fers intérieurs représentant des phallus, des têtes de mort, des instruments de torture, dont il a donné les dessins, il nous dit: “Ah! Ces fers… non, d’abord il ne voulait pas les exécuter, le relieur… Alors je lui ai prêté de mes livres… Maintenant il rend sa femme très malheureuse… il court les petites filles… mais j’ai eu mes fers.” Et nous montrant un livre tout préparé pour la reliure: “Oui, pour ce volume j’attends une peau, une peau de jeune fille… qu’un de mes amis m’a eue… On la tanne… c’est six mois pour la tanner… Si vous voulez la voir, ma peau?… Mais c’est sans intérêt… il aurait fallu qu’elle fût enlevée sur une jeune fille vivante… Heureusement, j’ai mon ami le docteur Bartsh… vous savez, celui qui voyage dans l’intérieur de l’Afrique… eh bien, dans les massacres… il m’a promis de me faire prendre une peau comme ça… sur une négresse vivante. Et tout en contemplant, d’un regard de maniaque, les ongles de ses mains tendues devant lui, il parle, il parle continuement, et sa voix un peu chantante et s’arrêtant et repartant aussitôt qu’elle s’arrête, vous entre, comme une vrille, dans les oreilles ses cannibalesques paroles."--April 7th 1862 entry in the Goncourt Journal

English translation

I have this day visited a maniac, a monster, one of those who are on the border of the abyss. This case has enabled me, as it were, by a veil rent in twain, to perceive the abominable depth to which the English aristocracy has fallen, and the frightful aspect of these scions of noble blood surfeited with gold, who combine ferocity with love, and whose debauchery can find satisfaction only in the sufferings of woman.

At a ball at the Grand Opera, a young English gentle- man was introduced to Saint- Victor, to whom he said right at the outset, in commencing conversation, " that he did not find it so easy to amuse one's self in Paris, that there were vastly better opportunities elsewhere, that there was in London, a very respectable house, kept by a Mrs. Jenkins, where there were young girls of about thirteen years of age, to whom one began to teach their letters, but afterwards flogged them, the little ones, Oh! not severely, but the big ones right away. One could also stick pins into them, not very long ones, as long as this only, and he showed us the point of his finger; yes, until they brought blood ! . . . " This young Englishman added placidly and quietly, " I have no naturally cruel tastes, and I stop at men and animals . . . Some time ago I hired a window for a heavy sum to see a murderess hanged ; we had with us some women to have fun with them afterwards 1 ' — his expressions were always very decent- - " at the moment when she was about to be executed, we had requested the hangman to lift up her petticoats just a little at the critical moment ! . . . When unfortunately, at the last moment, she was pardoned by the Queen!"

To-day therefore, M. Saint- Victor introduced me to this terribly strange character. He was a young man of about thirty years of age, bald, his cheeks bluff like the sides of an orange, clear blue and sharp eyes, his skin extremely delicate, showing distinctly the subcutaneous veins, and his head — most peculiar — that of one of those emaciated and ecstatic young priests who may be seen in ancient pictures to surround saintly bishops. He was an elegant young gentleman, rather stiff in the arms, and in the movements of his body, at the same time abrupt and f ebrile, denoting the incipient symptoms of a spinal disease. With that, extremely well bred, exquisitely polite and of most particularly gentle manner.

He opened a large and high cabinet, in which was a curious collection of erotic books, admirably bound, and showing to us a Meibomius, on the Utility of Flagellation in the Pleasures of Love and of Marriage, put together by the first binders in Paris, with external artistic tooled ornaments, representing the phallus, a death's head, and instruments of torture, of which he produced the draw- ings; ( x ) he said to us with regard to these ornaments:

  • No ! At first, the artist refused to execute them . . . then

I lent him some of my books . . . Now he makes his wife very unhappy ... he runs after little girls . . . but I got the binding I wanted." Then showing us a book all prepared for the binder, he said : " For this volume I await a skin, the skin of a young girl . . . which one of my friends has procured me ... It is now being tanned . . . Six months is necessary to tan it . . . Do you wish to see this skin ? . . . but that is immaterial ... it was necessary that the skin should be taken off from a living young girl. Fortunately, I had a friend, Dr. B . . ., who explores the interior of Africa, as you know . . . well, in the mas- sacres which periodically occur there ... he has promised to take for me the skin of a still living negress."

And as he still abstractedly contemplates his finger-nails before him, he continues to speak, and his words enter into your soul like the painful thrust of a gimlet."

--translation from Curious Cases of Flagellation in France

Notes

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