In mid-century, the tensions rose in America over the trade in human chattel, a criminal and ugly trade. Various provocateurs like John Brown committed acts to terrorize the slave holders and convince them to give up their human property. They responded by attacks against the more radical of the abolitionists. Battles raged in many of the territories. The two sides became more and more certain of their own moral superiority, reaching an almost religious certainty, which of course led to increased violence. There is no violence more certain than a clash of the righteously religious for they kill barbarously with the approval of their conscience.
The situation reached a climax when Southerners fired on Fort Sumter. Within weeks the Union was at war with the rebel states. My partners and I were worried since we had many dealings with the South, but all were confident that the war would be resolved in months. Such confidence was soon shattered. The war dragged on for four long years.
I spent the Civil War years in Boston. In one sense, it was a good time. The Union navy cut off trade with the South by blockade. That meant even more goods traveled over means which I had investments in. I made good money in the war. There were also many widows of the war, women used to feeling a man and desiring that experience again and again. There were also many women whose men were away at war and they too felt a longing which only a man can fill.
But not all was perfect. In 1864 the war was not going well and many soldiers were leaving the Army of the Union during the cold dreary winter to return to their farms. Their wives and children could not keep the farms up alone for such an extended period. Many men had only enlisted for one year and though the army attempted to keep them, the men would walk out once their enlistment was up.
One day, I was walking along on my way to a meeting of partners when a group under a Union captain detained me. I told him I was too old to serve, and if he only knew my real age he would have fainted.
He said, “Sir you lie. I can see you are not too old to serve in the army, coward.”
I was quite wroth but it did no good and at gunpoint, they took me to the center where men were being ‘drafted’ that is detained and taken off to the war. I was able to get a message to a partner by bribing a private. My partner, a man well known and respected in Boston, showed up with a young man of sixteen years who scarcely looked old enough to fight.
It seems his family had come on hard times. My partner had promised him the sum of $500 and his family the princely sum of $2,000 if he would enlist in my place. Since the law allowed this, the young man took my place. I sought out the colonel in charge and upbraided him, with my partner averring that he had known me as a business partner for almost twenty-five years, looks not withstanding. The colonel was apologetic, but I don’t think he changed the practice of the captain, seeing that many men of the Union Army were returning to their farms. Men from the city were sore needed to fight the insurgency of the South. After that, I took care to carry my papers showing that I was a British Citizen.
Then in 1865, the might of the Union wore down the South. Sherman’s march to the sea cut the rebel states in twain. The Union controlled the Mississippi cutting off the western states of the rebellion. His army out-manned, his resources dwindling, facing Grant's army to his North and Sherman's apporaching from his rear, Lee finally surrendered ending the bloody conflict.
I could say that the war had nothing to do with me, being a British subject, and in one way that is true. But I had known many men who did not return. I knew many families in grief at lost loved ones. Surely war affects all of us, those fighting and those left behind. If there be no good reason to fight, then those who lead nations into war by lies and deceit should be punished for crimes against humanity.
The end of conflict created opportunity which my partners and I were quick to pounce upon. The shipping of the South had been ravaged, the ports burned. Sherman had destroyed the rails of the south.
We assayed the landscape and saw the potential of one harbor untouched by the war, Charleston. We then proceeded to buy up all of the damaged railroad trackage in the war from Charleston all the way to Texas. The goods began to flow on this main line from west to east and east to west. Once traffic was sufficient, we sent spur lines north and south to important cities eagerly rebuilding after the cessation of hostilities. At one point half the tonnage of the south traveled on our rails with Charleston being the port to handle much of that trade. Our foresight left all of us quite wealthy and happy for our investment brought prosperity back to the interior of the rebellious states much sooner than it otherwise would have.
I had spent much time in America and my investments were growing apace. There did not seem to be any storms on the horizon, and so my continued presence in America was not needed. I decided it was time to die again. A letter was set back to the estate informing them of the passing of the Lord and the arrival of his son from America, also named Jeremy by tradition, to assume his duties as Lord Northam.
I was greeted quite well by the local people, happy to once again have the Lord in residence. Once again, I was at the center of public entertainment as mothers with marriageable daughters found my company indispensable to any party.
One afternoon, I went to the cemetery and found the stone marker for Elizabeth Woodhouse. She had passed on not many years after I had returned to the Americas. I stood for hours recalling our times together. It had been said that a person never forgets their first love. Marie had been an unrequitted love, but Elizabeth had been a full love lasting many years. I don’t know if it is true for all, it has been for me. I still love dear Elizabeth, the woman who taught me to be a man. I shall love her with my last breath.
There was a new vicar, an upright young man who let it be known when I first met him that he was a stern upholder of the right. I almost laughed at his certainty. I quoted my beloved Voltaire to him, “Doubt is not a pleasant condition but certainty is an absurd one.” The poor man sputtered a bit before excusing himself. I sensed some trouble when I again pursued my favorite game.
To test the waters I stopped by the Vicarage one afternoon. I asked that I might borrow it to meet with someone. He began an interrogation which I quickly stopped. He rose up and declared he could not be party to any such thing. I invited him to consider his position, but the holy zeal of youth filled him. I realized that with no lord present he was quite used to being the spiritual father and therefore, above question. I would quickly disabuse him of that. The Church of England is subservient to the State as he would find out.
“Vicar, I find your usurpation of my prerogatives insufferable. Therefore, I am fining you the amount of your pay for the next two months. Make sure that the collections are properly remitted to the manor, in accordance with the laws of the Church and the State.” He was aghast. I turned and walked out before I should burst into laughter.
I rode back to the manor laughing at the pinprick which had so deflated the young vicar, so sure of his holy position. It was shortly thereafter that the servants announced the vicar. I met him in the library. He was obsequious almost to the point of caricature, begging my pardon and apologizing for any misunderstanding which he may have occasioned. Of course, he understood his position and if the Lord needed use of the Vicarage for a short period, then he must have good reason. I forgave him, rescinded the fine, and sent him on his way, the fellow practically falling over himself with thanks.
It was not a good season for maidens and few caught my eye. The truth is the game seemed too easy. There was no challenge in using the ring to take a woman and I had soon tired of it. I wanted to feel as though I had conquered by my wit, not with the aid of a sorcerer’s stone. And so, not many women excited great passions in me.
One, Anne Blake, was at seventeen in full form as a woman. She was voluptuous, like a Titian Goddess, rather than my usual preference for slim maidens. But sweet Anne carried herself with an assurance and a hidden smoldering fire under the surface which she controlled so completely, that only when she wanted, would a man get a glimpse of it. She let me see it, that glimpse of promise, and I made a promise to myself that she should be mine.
I am sure I could have had her without using the power of the ring, but I wanted nothing more than her and detested waiting for the rounds of courtship that would be required. Not wanting to wait, I used the ring at my next opportunity and had her meet me at the chapel. It is humorous, but I have a great attachment to that chapel. A very religious man I might have become had my path in life been different.
After Anne, I looked around and found little to attract me in the county. After so many years in Boston, I had become a man of the city. I soon realized that and set off for London. I took a nice manse in London. My problem was that virtually no one knew me in London society. Even though I was a Lord and quite wealthy, from my holdings in England and America, I was unknown. In the upper class, everything is done by invitation and introduction.
I was quite at a loss, not having any experience in the ways of the upper classes in England other than as a country squire. I had no inkling of how to go about my introduction to society. Luckily, my new head servant at the manor had come to take up residence with me in London and see to the establishment of my new house. He quickly came to know the servants of the surrounding houses, among which were the Earl and Countess Browning. Her head servant mentioned to the Lady, a new neighbor, a Lord Northam, who had not yet been introduced into London society, having recently arrived from his country estate.
Lady Browning could not let such a chance go by to be the first to have this new blood in the otherwise boring circle of parties and immediately dropped by to welcome me. She took the opportunity to extend her invitation to a small party, 200 people, she was giving that Friday. I accepted with pleasure.
Lady Browning made a point of complimenting my attire, ‘for the country.’
“Madam, I must ask you in confidence and discretion, having no woman in my life, and with your nice compliment, am I out of date for London?” I asked already knowing the answer.
“Well, Lord Northam, since you inquired, the styles have changed recently in London. The long waistcoat is passé,” she said.
“I most humbly thank you, Lady Browning, for saving me from some embarrassment. Could I ask where your husband shops?”
“Indeed, he shops at Taylor and Greene, the best shop in London. If you go this afternoon I’m certain they could have an outfit by Friday,” she said.
I stood, “I shall go now,” bowing to her.
Lady Browning cooed happily, having done her part for fashion. “Yes, yes, do. Dark Green is the color this season.”
And so I found myself well outfitted for the London season from casual encounters to evening affairs. On Friday, I was introduced to London Society, an eligible bachelor of means and land. If I thought the country mothers were vigorous in their pursuit, I now experienced pursuit by true adepts in the finding of husbands for their daughters. For the upper class, the correct marriage was all important.
I also found out that the upper class has access to information that the local gentry simply did not. For the mothers had their husbands whose business dealings were world wide. Many of them had contacts in America and my worth was soon known far and wide. It was nothing for men to ask me what I thought about the some new venture they had heard proposed for America, knowing I had intimate knowledge of the state of enterprise in America.
While many of the daughters caught my eye, I found the barriers much greater than for country lasses. There seemed an army to protect each young girl from losing her most precious commodity, the illusion of purity. For purity in a woman truly is an illusion, an illusion which so many men seem to accept.
I was not without outlets for my passions, from the women of Whitechapel to women of the household, whose virtues were available for rewards, not always monetary. The upstairs maids were all young and comely even if of the lower classes. They seemed to understand that the only possible advancement for women of their class required some surrender from convention. I was only too happy to accept their surrender and provide a suitable reward. In all, I found London to be full of opportunity to appease my appetites.
Then I met a most wondrous woman, Lady Warren. Her husband had passed on to his reward and she weaved a truly remarkable net in the midst of society. She latched onto me at dinner one evening and would not let go. My hostess, Lady Bracknell, attempted to free me but every time Lady Warren would run me to ground again until I agreed to come round and see her for tea.
Copyright Rod O'Steele © 2007, 2013