Copyright 2026 by Governess, all rights reserved
[2,981 words]´
* * * * *ISOBEL, MARIA AND DOROTHY AND THEIR TWO BROTHERS HOWARD AND MILES PART III
When
you have prepared for bed, Miles, and changed into your pyjamas you
will return here and we will have a little conversation about your
attitude. Off you all go.”
I confess I awaited Miles’s return
with eagerness. Anticipating that moment when his pyjama trousers
slithered to the ground, and I renewed my acquaintance with the soft
round fullness of his recently birched bottom. It spoke of a pertness
and childish arrogance that cried out to be confronted and subdued. But
in a school where he was surrounded by fellow pupils who no doubt
admired his swaggering and confrontational spirit. and for whom
punishment, if bravely born, would be applauded, the birch though
supremely painful, was seldom able to reach into the vulnerable place
in a boy’s spirit to confront and subdue it. No! Such a boy needed to
be disciplined without such adulation. And while being flogged by a
master evoked that element of male contest and challenge, that would be
helpfully absent when he was flogged by a woman.
I went
across to the pail and selected the heaviest of the three birches. I
swished it through the air, listening to its distinctive whine. The rod
comprised six lengths of tough, flexible birch, each about three
quarters of an inch at their base, and spreading out into a spray of
leathery twigs that would cut and score young flesh. I replaced it in
the pail and waited for Miles to appear.
After several more
minutes, the boy entered. He looked small and innocent, a boy to tuck
into bed with a goodnight kiss. I smiled encouragingly, pulling out an
upright chair and seated myself. I beckoned him to my side and put my
arm around him, holding him close. I could feel the warmth of his small
body through his pyjamas. He wriggled closer enjoying the loving
embrace And I was suddenly overcome by how my love for this small, boy
and the punishment I was about to inflict were but one and the same.
Only that morning I had been reading in the Scriptures how the Lord had
declared that if his chosen ones were to break his law he would take up
the rod and scourge them but would never forsake them or cease to love
them. Punishment was the deepest expression of his love, to lead them
to repentance and to accept once more his gentle rule over them. And so
it was for this small, touselled-haired boy who had shown such
disrespect for my word: the need to be lovingly chastised to bring him
to a repentance where he would step into my will and into my loving
determination for him.
I pressed him more closely to me.
“You do know why I have asked you to come down here in your pyjamas, don’t you Miles?”
“I . . . I think so, Miss Strang.”
“So what is it you think, Miles?”
“I think . . . you . . . you are going to punish me.”
I gave him a squeeze.
“And how do you think I might punish you?”
I pressed his cheek against mine and could feel its warmth as he reddened in shame. He had seen the pail in the corner.
“ I . . . I think I might be birched . . . Miss Strang”
There was a sharp intake of breath, as I undid the cord of his pyjamas and let them slither to the ground.
“Step out of them, Miles. And pick them up. And place them neatly on
the seat of the chair. And stand with your face to the wall, And place
your hands on your head.”
I considered how to proceed. I could
turn him over the back of the leather armchair, or secure him to the
library steps as I had done for Isobel. Instead, I rang the call bell
and asked if Mrs Donaldson could spare me a moment. Although we had
been introduced, I had not yet spoken to her at any length. When she
entered, I sensed a quickening of interest at the sight of Miles
standing in only his pyjama jacket, with hands on his head. The hem of
the jacket had ridden up exposing his bottom..
“Mrs Donaldson, I have been told by Mrs Castlemain that you would be willing to assist in the children’s discipline.”
“That’s correct, Miss Strang. Children need a god beating, and not just
inconsequential smacks that can be shrugged off. I cannot tell you how
grateful I am to be serving in a household where children are treated
with respect and punished with a true concern for their wellbeing. In
the last family I worked for there were two children neither yet ten. A
rattan cane hung from a hook in the hall and if they misbehaved, they
were threatened with it. But it was never used. It was an empty threat.”
She paused.
“Do you know what Shakespeare said about fond parents, Miss Strang? It comes from Measure for Measure.
as fond fathers,
Having bound up the threat’ning twigs of birch
Only to stick it in their children’s sight
For terror, not to use In time the rod
Becomes more mock'd than feared
I was surprised, perhaps unreasonably, at the Housekeeper’s having such familiarity with Shakespeare.
“Mrs Castlemain tells me that when you were younger you had the
opportunity to see the police birching young delinquents after being
sentenced by the courts.”
“Yes, Miss Strang, I was working as
a clerk at the central police station in Glasgow, where most months,
two or three boys were sentenced to be beaten. Younger boys could only
be sentenced to up to twelve strokes and they were often birched. But
boys over fourteen might receive as many as thirty-six strokes and were
usually punished with a tawse. And I can tell you that as the flogging
continued, their grunts of pain and protest became gasping screams of
agony. And their roaring could be heard throughout the police station
and even in the street beyond. Even two dozen strokes would raise thick
angry-looking ridges, and after thirty-six cuts they were wealed and
bloody.
“How did you feel the time you first witnessed a boy being flogged?”
She smiled.
I was assisting my mother at the time. The boy was about nine. He had
broken into a greenhouse, destroyed a lot of plants and stolen a
watering can. He was sentenced to twelve strokes of the birch. The
constable didn’t use the full weight of the rod and even if he had I
reckoned a dozen strokes was a poor punishment for what he’d done. A
son of mine would have had the skin flayed from his bottom. But given
his age, that was the maximum sentence that could be passed.”
She paused.
“But at least older boys were usually sentenced to a more realistic
punishment. I remember the first time I saw a fourteen year old boy get
thirty six strokes of the tawse. It was soon after my arrival. The week
before, I had taken the tawse from its hook in the Sergeant’s office.
It was very different from that used at my school and the one used by
me at home. It was thicker and heavier, a good half inch in thickness
at the split business end. And I imagined its being lashed across a
boy’s sensitive rump. But whatever I had imagined fell far short of the
reality.
“The room where floggings were given was large and
airy. It was dominated by the birching table over which boys were
secured for their punishment. The room was also used for filing and
that provided an excuse for my presence in the room when the boy was
led in. He had only recently been before the courts for a similar
offence of theft and vandalism and as was usual for repeat offenders he
was now sentenced to the maximum number of strokes permitted. He was
small for his age, with sturdy legs that promised a full, firm bottom
beneath his trousers.
“His jacket was removed, his braces
slipped down and he was ordered across the birching table. His arms
were guided through the holes making it virtually impossible for him to
rise without help and ensuring that the flogging could proceed without
interruption. I swallowed and felt the heat radiating from my body as
the boy’s trousers and pants were pulled down and his shirt rucked half
way up his back. The constable who was to flog the boy was an older man
and from his demeanour clearly intended to provide a salutary lesson. I
learned later that he had three children of his own, including a girl
of ten,
“The boy's buttocks clenched in anticipation of the
first stroke. He had been across that table before. He knew what was
coming. I wondered whether he regretted his crimes, whether he wished
he had learned from his previous flogging and turned from his sinning.
But boys have short memories. Punishment needs to be repeated again and
again until the lesson is well beaten in. Only then, is some
improvement in behaviour likely to occur. And the lesson we are
teaching is not something superficial, like better table manners, but
something much deeper. As St Paul says we are wrestling not against
flesh and blood, but against the rulers of the darkness of this world.
And we confront those forces at work in a boy with discipline and the
rod of correction. Not once, but again and again, until they are slowly
weakened and the boy abases himself before the loving will of another
to whom he offers the gift of obedience.
“Remorselessly, the
strokes were delivered, cutting into the boy’s bottom flesh, raising
weals and eliciting roars of anger. Even a child spanked across his
mother’s knee will struggle and rage at the first smack of the
hairbrush. But a spanking must continue until every hint of anger is
spanked away and the child is rendered sweet and pliable. But whereas a
spanking in the home can continue until the mother is confident it has
achieved its purpose, a judicial flogging is restricted to the specific
number of strokes ordered by the court. But providing the court has the
wisdom to sentence a boy to a sufficient number of strokes, and these
are inflicted with the firm intention of causing real pain and
suffering, then at the conclusion that boy should be left with a
bloodied rump, dreading a repetition, and hopefully determined never to
offend again. However, that is often not the case with younger boys,
particularly if they are first offenders. The very boys who ought to be
well flogged to deter them from setting out on a criminal career
receive no more than a few, often desultory, strokes of the birch.
“With physical sickness, medication will be effective only if enough is
provided, a therapeutic dose. If the condition is serious then many
times the basic dose may be needed. And rarely will one dose be
sufficient. In many cases, the application will need to stretch over
many months, even years. And the same is true of the remedy for sin. I
made sure that my own boys, even as young as two or three, routinely
received a good ten or twelve hard strokes of a wooden-backed hairbrush
across the bare bottom.
“The sickness of sin resides not in
the body but in the will, and expresses itself through the body of
flesh which it controls. In later years children are taught to sing
Two little eyes to look to God
Two little ears to hear his word
Two little feet to walk in his way
Two little lips to sing His praise
Two little hands to do His will
And one little heart to love Him still
“But those eyes will look on another child’s toy and covert it; the
ears listen to a friend and be led astray; the feet will go where they
have been forbidden; the lips will speak untruths; the hands take what
isn’t theirs; and the heart harbours anger and resentment rather than
love. The sinful will acts through the body, and that is where it must
be confronted. In the body through bodily punishment.
“Magistrates, while they have the freedom to sentence an eight-year-old
delinquent to a maximum of twelve strokes, often reserve that for
particularly serious offences. But how much better it would be if the
law required all first offenders to suffer a minimum of a dozen
strokes, if not two or three dozen, to deter them from setting out on a
life of crime. In other words, the emphasis should be governed by the
needs of the boy rather than by age and the nature of the crime he has
committed.
“However, I digress. The fourteen year old being
flogged in that Glasgow police station was receiving thirty-six strokes
of the tawse. I listened to the steady smack of the split leather
across his rump and his screams. The dose was certainly sufficient to
convey the message that his behaviour was unacceptable, and it was made
clear that if caught in a repeat offence there would be a repetition of
the painful flogging he had just received.”
Mrs Donaldson paused.
“My apologies for going on at such length, but it is something I feel
strongly about. So, as I said,, I am more than willing to assist with
the punishment of the children. And I take it that young Miles here, in
just a pyjama jacket, is in need of such correction?”
“Yes,
Mrs Donaldson. He certainly is. I made it clear that after supper there
would be additional tuition. Miles was sullen and argumentative and
complaining. He needs to learn that my word is to be accepted without
argument and with a good grace.”
“So how is that lesson to be taught, Miss Strang?”
“Miles believes he is going to be birched, don’t you Miles?”
“Y . . . yes, Miss Strang.”
“Well, you certainly need to be punished severely for your impudence.”
I turned to Mrs Donaldson.
“There is a birch rod steeping in that pail, but I also have a heavy
weight tawse in my desk. In your experience which is going to provide
the most memorable punishment?”
“Now that, Miss Strang, is a
most interesting question. In Scotland, there has often been a
preference for the tawse. When a boy was sentenced by the Court to a
flogging, then it was usually so many strokes of the tawse that were
specified, and if the implement was not specified then those
administering the punishment would often choose the tawse over the
birch.”
“But why was that?”
“Well, for a number of
reasons. The birch was regarded as essentially English, and associated
with public schools whereas the tawse was typically Scottish and
familiar from the schools that most children attended. And as the
swishiness of the birch broke the skin superficially and left it
bloody, it had the appearance of greater severity whereas the tawse
when used with judicial force may have bruised deeply, but the damage
was not as visible. On the face of it, it appeared less severe.”
“And do you think it is less severe?”
“No, Miss Strang. A decent tawse is any match for a birch in causing a boy pain and distress.
She paused for a moment.
“After witnessing that boy receive those thirty-six strokes, I kept the
doctor's report as a memento. I still have it I'll show it to you
sometime.”
“Thank you Mrs Donaldson. I look forward to that.
So, I take it your recommendation would be the tawse if greater
severity is needed?”
“Yes. And I must say, Miss Strang, that
impudent behaviour is nothing new with Miles. I can see that discipline
has not been lacking at school. But here in the house, he is regularly
in trouble that in my view has been dealt with far too leniently. A
good flogging is long overdue.”
I nodded, and went to my desk, opened it, and took out the tawse.
“How does this match the punishing power of the judicial tawse used on the fourteen year old you saw flogged.”
I handed it to her.”
“Well, this is an excellent tawse. Quite adequate for use in the family
and in the schoolroom. For a mother or governess to use a judicial
weight tawse on a boy of Miles’s age, he’d have to have behaved quite
shockingly.”
She ran the leather through her hand.
“So how many strokes had you in mind?”
“I was thinking of two dozen cuts. But in view of what you have said
about a history of troublesome and impudent behaviour, three dozen
would seem more appropriate.”
“I agree, although it’s scarcely my place to do so. But how best can I assist, Miss Strang.”
“Would you be prepared to horse him for his flogging, Mrs Donaldson?”
“Certainly. He wouldn’t be the first boy I’ve horsed, nor, I suspect,
the last.. But how do you want him horsed? I could hold him over my
back or place him firmly across my knee on a cushion?”
“Which would you prefer, Mrs Donaldson?”
She gave a smile.
“Well, as far as offering his bottom to be flayed, both commend
themselves. I confess I enjoy the feel of a boy helplessly struggling
and writhing over my back as the tawse raises weals on his flesh. But
Miles is small and compact for his age, and the sight of the leather
smacking into those soft firm buttocks, reddening the skin and raising
ridges, that’s most appealing.”
She smiled.
“So, at
least on this occasion, I would prefer holding him over my lap, for you
to provide a thorough and very necessary flogging.”