Page:Psychopathia Sexualis (tr. Chaddock, 1892).djvu/48

30 love me you do not show me any sign of it.’ He embraced her and begged to be told what he had carelessly and unconsciously done to hurt her feelings, and to be forgiven, for he would never do it again. ‘I want nothing,’ was the answer, ‘but what is customary in our country,—the whip, the real sign of love.’ Jordan observed the custom and accustomed himself to it, and then his wife began to love him dearly. Similar stories are told by Peter Petrius, of Erlesund, with the addition that the husbands, immediately after the wedding, among other indispensable household articles, provide themselves with whips.”

On page 73 of this remarkable book, the author says further: “The celebrated Count of Mirindula, John Picus, relates of one of his intimate acquaintances that he was an insatiable fellow, but so lazy and incapable of love that he was practically impotent until he had been roughly handled. The more he tried to satisfy his desire, the heavier the blows he needed, and he could not attain his desire until he had been whipped until the blood came. For this purpose he had a suitable whip made, which was placed in vinegar the day before using it. He would give this to his companion and on bended knees beg her not to spare him, but to strike blows with it, the heavier the better. The good count thought this singular man found the pleasure of love in this punishment. While in other respects he was not a bad man, he understood and hated his weakness. Coelius Rhodigin relates a similar story, as does also the celebrated jurist, Andreas Tiraquell. In the time of the skillful physician, Otten Brunfelsen, there lived in Munich, then the Capital of the Bavarian Electorate, a debauchee who could never perform his [sexual] duties without a severe preparatory beating. Thomas Barthelin also knew a Venetian who had to be beaten and driven before he could have intercourse,—just as Cupid himself moved reluctantly driven by his followers with sprays of hyacinth. A few years ago there was in Lübeck a cheese-monger, living on Mill Street, who, on a complaint to the authorities of unfaithfulness, was ordered to leave the city. The prostitute with whom he had been went to the judges and begged in his behalf, telling how difficult all intercourse had become for him. He could do nothing until he had been mercilessly beaten. At first the fellow, from shame and to avoid disgrace, would not confess, but after earnest questioning he could not deny it. There is said to have been a man in the Netherlands who was similarly incapable, and could do nothing without blows. On the decree of the authorities, however, he was not only removed from his position, but also properly punished. A credible friend, a physician in an important city of the kingdom, told me, on July 14th, last year, how a woman of bad character had told a companion, who had been in the hospital a short time before, that she, with another woman of like character, had been sent to the woods by a man who followed them there, cut rods for them, and then exposed his nates, commanding them to belabor him well. This they did. It is easy to conclude what he then did with them,