Chapter 4

Letters exchanged between Benjamin and Sarah, March to May 1861

March 22nd, 1861

Dear Sarah,

It was wonderfully good to receive your letter, though the reading of it left me with mixed feelings. Much as you claim not to want to chastise, I felt, from the distance of an ocean and a continent, your disapprobation over my dalliance with Chastity. Perhaps I should not have been so forthright in writing of it to you, but then without frankness on my part, you would not have been able to reciprocate with your own unvarnished truth—which I so want to hear. I do not think I have been privy to such honest exchanges with anyone else in a long time. Daniel used to confide in me when we were younger, but this changed as we grew to adulthood and went to different colleges. I like the way you listen to my thoughts and seem to truly understand me in a way that no one else in my family seems to do.

But back to my affair with Chastity. Firstly, I think it will be short-lived, and worry not, I am being careful to ensure there is no junior Stanton produced as a result of it. I will spare you the details, but suffice it to say that it was that paragon you speak of, none other than my brother Daniel, who instructed me on the ways to go about having dalliances with damsels, for he is the master of such things, or so he tells me.

Dear friend, for that is what you are, I do believe that the true basis of friendship is the acceptance of each other with all our faults, and the ability to be honest about how we feel. I have never made any claims to saintliness. I stand before you a flawed human being with faults aplenty, one of which is my weakness for comely maidens. I will have you know by way of explanation (or mitigation), that to sink into the softness of a woman is one of the greatest pleasures known to man. It is a pleasure I am unable to resist, though I do believe there will come a day when my soul and body will belong to one woman only. I am certain you are right in saying there is night and day between the embrace of two people in love and the embrace of people merely dallying. I have not experienced the former, and perhaps when I finally do, it will feel so right as to make it impossible for me to ever kiss anyone else again but the one I love.

The other reason for my mixed feelings on reading your letter was your painfully accurate estimate of my relationship with Daniel. How was it you knew? It is true that it has been hard to grow up in his shadow, for he is so handsome and accomplished, and more so than this, enormously kind. I, on the other hand, am not quite so handsome and certainly not as accomplished, and arguably not as kind. But though it has been hard to live up to all his perfection, I try not to give in to that perfidious emotion known as envy. It is not always easy. I love him dearly, but can't help resenting him sometimes, which I know I ought not to do.

On to other matters. I am trying to heed your counsel on staying patient. Every day, I am learning more about the management of our estate and doing my best not to disappoint Papa. It is a struggle though, I will admit. I would much rather be draughting the design of that locomotive we spoke of before I left, or tinkering with the mechanics of a traction engine.

And now we come to the important matter of your feelings for Mr Templeton. I was very interested to read your description of what happens to you when you are near him. Have you ever considered, dear friend, that what you feel is lust rather than love? I do not wish to diminish your feelings in any way, but in reading your description, I recalled a young lady I once knew by the name of Clarissa. I felt no love for her but a goodly amount of lust. I do recall how it felt to be up close and breathe in her delightful scent, to get a glimpse of the curves in her decolletage and to have my heart pound in my chest with need of her. It was like my body was on fire, causing a certain male part of my anatomy to thicken and throb in reaction—do pardon my frankness but strangely, I rather like talking to you of such things.

I wonder if something similar is occurring with you when you are in proximity of Mr T. I can see that he is a very attractive and virile looking man who no doubt appeals to your natural womanly urges. Now when it came to Clarissa, I was able to slake those urges and realise that lust was all that this was, not love. You cannot do the same with Mr T, but if you were to do so, I am sure you would come to discover as I did that what you are feeling is lust, and then perhaps you could open yourself to the possibility of love with someone else. Think on it.

Your friend,

Benjamin Stanton

P.S. The situation over here seems to be worsening. The states that have seceded from the Union have come together and called themselves the Confederate States of America. There are also rumours that more states are likely to secede and join them. Much sabre rattling is going on between the two sides, but as yet no open confrontation. We await to see how this situation will develop, but both Papa and Mama are extremely concerned about where all this is heading.

20th April, 1861

Dear Benjamin,

Once again it was a thrill to receive and read your letter. How glad I am that we embarked on this uncommon friendship of ours, one as you say that knows no bounds. I have never before engaged in such frank correspondence, and it is marvellously liberating.

Now where am I to start? Perhaps with an apology. I am sorry that you felt a note of rebuke in my previous letter. It was wrong of me to judge. Perhaps it was occasioned partly by that perfidious emotion, envy, for the freedom you have to indulge in dalliances without fear of judgement. The world we live in has different standards of morality for women than for men. What would be considered the natural "sowing of wild oats" in a man would be painted in a much different light for a woman. I have never dared contemplate letting a man have his wicked way with me. It would be unthinkable! And yet I feel those bodily urges much as you do. There have been times, in my most private imaginings, when I have wondered how it would be to be whisked away to a deserted barn, like Chastity, and to be thoroughly seduced. How deliciously wicked that would be!

Dear friend, I have thought much about your situation. I understand how maddening it must be to not pursue the path you wish in life. Again, I counsel patience. However, I do wonder if there would be some benefit to you in speaking more openly with your father or even your mother about your ambitions. They must, of course, be aware of your scientific inclinations, but perhaps they do not realise fully the depth of your desire to be an engineer. Do not let your fear of causing disappointment make you hide something so fundamental to your happiness from them. Speak openly and express both your respect and love for them together with an exposition of what you would in actual fact like to do. I believe your parents are reasonable persons and that they desire the happiness of their children.

Now I come to your evaluation of my feelings for Mr Templeton. Here I will admit something to you that I have not told anyone else. Something happens to my body in addition to the pounding of my heart when he approaches me. It is strikingly similar to what you described as feeling for Clarissa—that throbbing of a male part of your anatomy. Only in my case, it is the throbbing of a female part of my anatomy, accompanied by a strange wetness in my undergarments. I blush as I write this and think perhaps I should rip this sheet and start this letter again. But I will not. I feel with you such a freedom to express myself in a way I cannot do with anyone else, not even Ambrose or Benedict. I do so cherish this openness between us.

Being of a scientific disposition, I have of course investigated the possible reasons for these physical symptoms I have just described, and learned that these are nature's way of preparing a woman's body for the act of sexual congress. So, it seems my reaction to an attractive man's presence is entirely lustful. From this, it would be sensible to surmise that indeed as you say, what I feel for Mr T is simply lust rather than love. And yet… surely if it were only lust, even someone as stubborn as me would not have sustained these feelings for so long? And also, I care about his wellbeing and fret over him. I tell myself these must be signs of the heart being engaged.

Now I have some fresh news to share in regards to Mr Templeton. Two nights ago, I attended the Easter dance in Whitney. It is quite a big event which is held there every year. What a crush of people it was—over a hundred by my count. Ambrose and I travelled there together with your brother and sister in their carriage. The first thing Isabella and I did on arrival was to get our dance cards from the master of ceremonies. She, of course, was much sought after for dances, but I did not do too badly either. And now for my big news.

I was standing in a circle with Isabella, Ambrose and Daniel when lo and behold, Mr Templeton joined us. He made his bows and looked first to Isabella then to me, begging each of us for a dance. So it was that sometime later in the evening, I stood for the polka with Mr Templeton, my first ever dance with him. And Benjamin, it was wonderful. Even now, two days later, my heart beats faster just remembering it. As he held me close and whirled me round the room, I felt I was flying through the air. So you see, my friend, how difficult it is to dismiss the feelings I have for Mr T as simply lust.

Even were it true, it is not as if there is any rival presenting himself for my affections. One of the joys of living in a small village such as ours is that one gets to know the society there intimately, but the drawback is that the range of one's acquaintances is limited. I know only a handful of single gentlemen, and none excite in me any particular interest or desire. Perhaps if I were in America, like you, I would meet more eligible men, or if I were one of those young ladies able to go to London for the season. Then perhaps, there would be opportunity for the heart to fix itself on someone else—though I am not sure that a city gent would suit me either. As that is not within my purview, then I must content myself with what I have here in Stanton Harcourt and enjoy each delightful encounter with Mr T, short as it may be, before I die an old maid. You will not begrudge me that, I hope!

On a last note, I am reading the newspaper reports about the situation in America, and it does not sound to me as if the differences between the Union and the Confederacy can be resolved amicably. I dread the thought of war and bloodshed, especially now that I have people I care greatly about in America—that means you and your family, in case my meaning was not plain enough. I have come to treasure this friendship of ours. You do not know how eagerly I wait for your missives. Keep writing, and keep safe.

Yours in true friendship,

Sarah

May 15th, 1861

My dear Sarah,

I too treasure this unusual friendship of ours and look forward eagerly to receiving news from you. And what news it was! I am glad you wrote and posted it, although you may have regretted your candour the next day. Do please persist with this rare and wonderfully forthright correspondence between us. I promise to honour it with a reciprocal honesty from myself, never to judge and to always treat your divulgences with the discretion they deserve. Moreover, I must tell you that reading such things as you describe happening to your body has a powerful effect on me, causing a similar response in mine.

But first, let me discuss your revelation about what occurs to your person when you are close to an attractive gentleman. You are quite correct that your body without volition reacts to his nearness as if it were preparing for sexual congress. Now let me share something with you. Whenever I am in the process of such an intimate act, I first ensure that the lady in question is well lubricated with her natural juices—that wetness you describe—before penetrating her with my male organ, for otherwise it is painful to her and unpleasurable to me. (I hope by now that I no longer need to apologise to you for my frankness.)

If she has not yet reached such a state of lubrication, I help her do so by stroking a small protrusion at the juncture of her thighs. This protrusion has a scientific name—the clitoris—and it is so sensitive as to bring much delight to the lady when it is stimulated. I stroke her clitoris in quick strokes back and forth or in a circular motion with my thumb. Sometimes, I also dip my finger in and out of her cunt in anticipation of what my cock will soon do—that way I can also gauge her state of readiness for fucking by the degree of lubrication. Am I teaching you some shocking new words? I make no apologies for corrupting you on this front, my dear Sarah. A man's cock is a common name for his male sexual organ, and a woman's cunt is the name for the internal passage that leads to her womb. And fucking is the wonderfully coarse word used for describing the sexual act itself. I have my brother, that fount of knowledge about intimate relations with women, to thank for this information which has stood me well.

Now I have a question for you of a very personal nature. Do not feel obliged to respond, though I very much hope that you do. Have you ever stroked yourself with your fingers down below and touched your clitoris, even though you may not have known it by name? Such a touch would have sent excitement through your body, and brought you to a state of pleasurable completion known as an orgasm. It will have felt like involuntary convulsions at the core of your body, followed by a deep sense of contentment. An orgasm is unmistakable if you have experienced it. If you have not, then perhaps next time you are alone in your room at night, you may give it a try. And please do tell me all about it. I think we have come far enough in our frankness to each other to be able to share such things. If you do, I promise to tell you more about how I too pleasure myself alone at night!

In any case, I want you to know that the feelings in your body that you experience when you are in proximity of Mr T are entirely natural and no cause for shame. And by the same token, should you follow my advice and experience an orgasm through the touch of your fingers to your intimate regions, then that too is nothing shameful. That part of your body was God-created for sensual stimulation. Think of it as a gift from your maker.

Now on the subject of your feelings for Mr T, I still maintain that it is lust that you feel, for the simple reason that you have not given me any indication that you have gotten to know his character beyond what can be observed on the surface. Consider it another way. In all probability, you now know me far better than Mr T, even though we have known each other for far less time. It is the substance of the discourse between us that has allowed us to go quickly from mere acquaintances to good friends. Do you really know what manner of a man Mr T is? Glimpses of him at church, the occasional dinner party and one thrilling dance at a ball do not, in my view, suffice to develop deep and enduring love.

However, have it your way and call it what you wish. I will not argue the matter any further. It saddens me though, that you feel unable to love someone else because of a lack of opportunity. Cannot something be done about that? I do not mean a season in London, for I know that is not likely in your circumstances, but how about finding ways to enlarge your circle of acquaintances? I wish I could be there to introduce you to new friends. Perhaps Daniel could help, seeing as he is now lord of the manor and able to entertain lavishly. Should I write to him and suggest he hold a house party, inviting the illustrious people he has met in London? Say the word and I shall do so.

You offer sage advice with regards to my father. I should speak to him of my aspirations and I will, though I have not yet found the right moment to do so. In the meantime, I promise to be patient. There is so much on Papa's mind at this time. He still grieves for Grandpa, and he misses my brother and sister. Added to that, his concern grows ever deeper over the conflict between the Union and the Confederacy, and what it might mean for us. Just a few weeks ago, Fort Sumter in South Carolina came under fire from Confederate forces, and we now find ourselves in a state of war.

I tell myself the time is not right to rock the boat with selfish talk of my personal aspirations. President Lincoln has issued a call for volunteers to serve in the Union army. Soon, no doubt, cavalry regiments will be calling for volunteers too, and when that comes to pass, I shall feel duty bound to offer my services in the military effort in order to protect our lands and our values from the encroachment of the Confederate states. I can see no other choice but to play my part in the drama that shall soon unfold. My own petty concerns seem small when set in contrast with the troubles of the nation. I have not yet told Ma and Pa of my plans. No doubt, it will be a difficult conversation to have with them.

On this worrisome note, I come to the end of this missive. I hope all is well with you, dear friend, and wish you to know that our correspondence is the thing keeping my spirits up in these trying times. Keep writing for however long it is still possible to do so, for once I am a soldier in uniform, there is no knowing where I shall be or how I can be reached. I am uncertain even as to how long it will take for this letter to arrive in England, as shipping has been disrupted by the war. I will continue to write whenever I can and keep you apprised of my progress. Will you keep reading my letters, even if there is no hope of your response reaching me? It will be a one-sided correspondence, to be sure, but I would much rather keep the thread connecting us intact than break it altogether. You and your friendship have come to mean so much to me.

Your true friend,

Benjamin

P.S. You will be happy to learn that my affair with Chastity Hewitt has come to an end. It was only lust, after all. I told you, did I not, that it would be short-lived.