Daniel Pratt Mannix - The Hell Fire Club (Ballantine books, 354K)

Weird stories were told of the fabulously rich and brilliant Sir Francis Dashwood. Hed had a vast system of caves dug in a cliff near his estate at West Wycombe, some 33 miles northwest of London, and villagers passing the entrance late at night told of seeing strange figures dressed in red robes dragging screaming girls into the black entrance. But no one liked to complain, because Sir Francis was such a pleasant gentleman. For example, to celebrate the opening of a new, formal garden on his estate, Sir Francis asked the local minister to arrange a Sunday school picnic on the grounds. The minister was only too happy to oblige and he and Sir Francis watched benignly while the children rollicked over the new garden. The garden was laid out in rather a curious fashion. Near one end were two little mounds, each surmounted by a bed of bright red flowers, and in the lower section was a triangle of dense shrubbery.

Ah, but you must see the garden as a whole, Sir Francis-explained to the puzzled minister. Ill take you to the topof a tower so you can look down on it from a height.

The clergyman cheerfully agreed and followed Sir Francis-to the topof the tower. He had just time to realize that he was gazing down at a garden elaborately designed to represent the body of a naked woman when Sir Francis gave a signal. Instantly a stream of water gushed from the shrubbery triangle while two fountains concealed in the flower-beds shot streams of milky water into the air. The minister fainted and had to be revived by Sir Franciss favorite drinkbrandy laced with sulphur, or brimstone, as it was called.

As John Wilkes, an intimate of the amazing Sir Francis, later remarked, Tis astonishing the lengths Francis will go simply to be nasty.

However, Hell-Fire Francis was far more than an enormously rich man with a genius for obscenity. He was one of the most influential figures of the 18th Century. He created the notorious Hell-Fire Club, an association dedicated to Black Magic, sexual orgies, and political conspiracies. The club included among its members the Prime Minister of England, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Lord Mayor of London, the First Lord of the Admiralty, the son of the Archbishopof Canterbury, several of Englands greatest artists and poets, the Prince of Wales, and even Benjamin Franklin. The American Revolution has been attributed the indirect product of this uncanny group.

The originator and guiding spirit of the club was Sir Francis Dashwood, baronet, heir to one of the great fortunes of the time, and George IIIs intimate friend. Sir Francis was born in 1708. His father (the first baronet) was a fiercely ruthless man. A wealthy merchant, he had been determined to obtain a title, and after his first wife died he finally succeeded in 1707 by marrying the daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland. The earls daughter gave birth to Francis shortly before she succumbed to her husbands brutal treatment. The grim old ex-merchant married two more wives before he himself died in 1724, leaving Francis the estate.

The sixteen-year-old boy celebrated his independence by locking himself upin the cellar for a week with a hogs-head of claret. He then set out to enjoy the delights of fashionable London society. His guide, philosopher, and friend at this time was the Honourable Jack Spencer, grandson of the Duchess of Marlborough, a well-known rake who had seduced a twelve-year-old flower girl named Fanny Murray on the steps of Covent Garden Theater. Jacks fame did not come from having seduced a childthat was a routine procedure with all the rakes of the periodbut because Fanny later became one of the leading courtesans of the day. She was the mistress of Beau Nash, Lord Sandwich, and Sir William Stanhope (the younger brother of the Earl of Chester-field). Fanny always gave Jack Spencer credit for having started her on her successful career.

Some rough idea of Jacks morals can be gained from a letter given him by Edmund Easy, the keeper of an accomplished prostitute named Molly. Here is the letter:

Dear Molly,

On sight thereof permit the Bearer to immediately enter a pair of sheets with you and let him have ingress, egress and regress to your person in such manner as to him shall seem meet for the space of twenty-four hours and no longer and place it to the account of your kind and confident keeper.

Signed Edmund Easy

Through Jack Spencer, Sir Francis was introduced to London club life. There were many clubs in London at that time. There were the Mohawks who specialized in tipping the lioncrushing the noses of people whom they met on the streets and gouging out their eyes. The Mohawks even carried a special iron instrument about with them for distending the mouths of their victims and slitting their cheeks. There were the Blasters who showed themselves naked to passing girls. There were the Mollies who dressed as women and sang to each other Tell me, gentle hobble-dehoy, art thou girl or art thou boy? The She-Romps Club dragged passing girls into their club and made them walk on their hands so their skirts would fall over their heads. Then the club members beat them with riding whips on the exposed parts. The Sweaters used to draw their swords and surround some passer-by who was then ordered not to turn his back on a gentleman. Any gentleman standing behind the victim was entitled to prick him in the seat of the pants. When the man whirled around, he presented his back to another gentleman who promptly stabbed him for such rudeness, thus keeping him in a constant sweat. Then there were the Hectors, who specialized in sheer vandalism. The members wandered the streets at night ripping knockers off doors, smashing windows, and tearing down shutters. After one of their evening frolics, the leader boasted that there isnt a window left unbroken on Chancery Lane. The Fun Club went in for practical jokes. Their most famous exploit was to set fire to a line of workmens cottages and watch the inmates escaping in their nightclothes. The young lord who thought upthis joke was crowned King of Fun.

The members of these clubs were all wealthy young noblemen and so were virtually immune from arrest. However, occasionally they ran into a little trouble. Lord Charteris, who was president of the Man-Killers, tried to nail a night watchman in his sentry boxone of the cylindrical, pillar-like boxes in which the watchmen took shelter during rainy weather. This stunt was called boxing the watch and once the man was nailed inside, the box was turned over on its side and rolled down a hill. Although Lord Charteris had two pals to help him, the watchman drew his sword and captured all three Man-Killers. He marched them to the nearest police station, where the judge fined the noblemen 3/4d each (about $1.50) and reprimanded the watchman for interfering with the fun of the nobility. It must be admitted that on a few occasions, the antics of the clubmen got a little out of hand. In 1720, two young aristocrats riding in sedan chairs met at a narrow intersection, and the chair men got into an argument as to who was to give way to the other. The noblemen piled out of their chairs and joined in the dispute. The chair men started fighting with their fists and the young lords with their swords. Other gentlemen rushed out of the coffee houses and joined in the fight. The London mob, always ready for some excitement, promptly took sides. The result was a riot so serious that the Horse Guards had to be called out to break upthe crowd with their sabers.

All the clubs specialized in sex. On the bulletin boards were posted lists of famous madams and noted prostitutes, with their specialties listed after each girls name, somewhat like the batting average of well-known ball players. The madams usually were given picturesque names. Mother Sulphur, her face painted black, led a masked line of naked men and girls through the halls of the Sheet-Lightning Club, and Mrs. Brimstone specialized in providing virgins, all under fifteen, to club members. At the same time, the clubs had a curiously adolescent attitude towards sex that sounds more like a modern college fraternity than a groupof dissolute hell rakes. They seemed to have enjoyed boasting about their amatory exploits more than performing them, held endless bull sessions on the art of seduction, and exchanged secret lists of young ladies of fashion who could be made. The whole business followed strict rules. If you wanted to seduce a lady, you first sent her reams of poetry full of obscure classical allusions and then, instead of telling her to meet you at the Red Lion Inn where you could register as Mr. and Mrs. Jones, you hid under her bed or climbed in her window at midnight disguised as an Indian rajah. It had to be romantic. It was understood by both sides that youd afterwards boast of your conquest in every coffee house you frequented in London.