by John Holt
Jacob clasped his hands behind his back, and looked down at the floor. His face was a bright red. He took a deep breath and looked up at her. “I said that you were beautiful mother,” he replied shyly. “Very beautiful indeed.”
She smiled and continued down the stairs to where he was standing. She put her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘”That is very nice of you Jacob,” she said.
He looked up at her face and smiled.
“And I must say that you look very elegant tonight,” she continued.
It was Jacob’s first formal ball, and he was dressed up as never before. He was wearing a pair of pin striped Henderson Pants. Then there was a white Wing Tip Shirt, a bib fronted shirt with a metal stud at the collar and a tab in the back which held a dark blue Silk Puff Tie in position. Over the shirt he wore a Baker City Vest, which was double-breasted with a notched collar, two front pockets, adjustable back and fancy metal buttons. It was a deep burgundy in color. Finally there was the Formal Tailcoat. It had come all the way from England, where it was very popular with the landed gentry. It featured six front buttons and a peaked lapel.
Jacob felt strange in his outfit. He felt awkward, and shy. He felt nervous. He was embarrassed. Everyone would stare at him, he thought. Worst still they would probably laugh at him. That would be dreadful. Did he have to go in there, in that room, with all of those people? He would much rather be out fishing. His hands started to shake. His legs suddenly felt like jelly, and had difficulty in supporting him. He kept fussing with his tie. It felt too tight. Then it would be too loose. He would pull his waistcoat down. One side was lower than the other, or so he thought. Then he would pull down the other side. And so it would go on.
His mother looked at him and smiled. “Jacob,” she said. “You look fine. Just like a real gentleman. I am so proud of you. She held out her hand. “And now give me your arm,” she continued. “Lead me in to the ballroom, our guests are waiting.”
The shaking suddenly stopped. His legs were no longer wobbling. Suddenly he felt very proud. Suddenly he felt grown up. He lifted his head high. He smiled and held up his right arm, just as he had seen his father do on numerous occasions. She placed her left hand on to his outstretched arm. Slowly they walked towards the open doors leading into the ballroom. As they reached the doorway the music stopped, the guests turned to face them and started to applaud loudly. They were staring, just as Jacob had suspected. But they were not staring at him. And they certainly were not laughing. Oh no. All eyes were firmly fixed on his mother. She really was so beautiful.
He turned and looked into the room. There was Miles standing on the far side of the room. He was smiling broadly and waving. He looked very smart with his cravat, a wool Frock Coat and a Silver Dollar Vest. Jacob smiled. Miles looked just as awkward, and just as nervous, as he felt.
A short distance away was Henry, his brother. He was looking very smart, and confident but then this was his second, or was it his third, formal occasion. He saw Jacob and gave a formal bow, and then started to laugh.
Jacob shrugged his shoulders, and made a return bow. He continued to look around the room. Then he saw his father walking slowly towards them. A few moments later he was by their side. He bowed to his wife, and held out his right hand towards Jacob. Jacob smiled and shook it enthusiastically. His father then moved over to his wife’s left side, and offered her his right hand.
She gently took hold. She looked at Jacob, nodded and smiled. She then looked at her husband, and did the same. “Shall we?” she said.
Then all three entered the room as the music started to play once more.
* * *
Jacob tried hard to remember what tune was being played, but it just wouldn’t come to him. Sadly he had to admit that he could remember nothing about that evening, nothing except that his mother had certainly been very beautiful.
He continued to stare at the lithograph. They had been good days, he thought. He rubbed his fingers slowly over the image.
“Now, there is nothing. It has all gone, disappeared as grains of sand through your fingers.” He sighed. “There’s nothing left.” He looked up and stared into the distance. “Except for destruction.”
He was startled by another heavy blow hitting the door. Then there was a sudden noise as one of the door panels split. He looked towards the door for a moment, and then turned away. He took a deep breath. He slowly closed the case and placed the watch back onto the table. Time was running out. He carefully picked up the revolver. Taking into his hand he checked that it was loaded. He then carefully cocked the hammer. Next he placed the barrel at his right temple. He could feel the cold steel against his skin. It was cooling, soothing somehow. His hand stopped shaking. There was another crash against the door. The cabinet shuddered and moved a short distance. Then another crash and then another. The doorframe started to splinter. The bolt keep snapped, and fell away.
They would be inside in a very short time now. He felt the cold trigger against his finger. He looked towards the door. He hesitated for a moment or two longer. His breathing became shallow. He felt very hot. Sweat ran down his face. He started to cry. He closed his eyes tightly. “Mother,” he called out loudly. “Mother, please forgive me.”
Suddenly there was another heavy thud against the door. The frame shattered and the door burst open, hanging down as the top hinge split. The cabinet slid across the floor. The door hung precariously for a few seconds, and then fell loudly to the floor, tearing off the lower hinge. Jacob opened his eyes wide, and turned his face towards the doorway.
Standing at the opening was his friend Miles. Just like their childhood games of hide and seek, Miles had found him once again, as usual.
Jacob quickly looked away. Then slowly, gently, he started to squeeze the trigger.
* * *
“After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being chased by gunboats till I was forced to return wet, cold, and starving, with every man’s hand against me, I am here in despair. And why? For doing what Brutus was honored for? What made Tell a hero? And yet I, for striking down a greater tyrant than they ever knew, am looked upon as a common cutthroat. My action was purer than either of theirs. One hoped to be great himself. The other had not only his country’s but his own, wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain. I knew no private wrong. I struck for my country and that alone –
John Wilkes Booth”
Illustrations
The Image entitled “The Thackery Journal” in Chapter Two is in reality the 1864 Civil War diary of Morris Cooper Foote (Second Lieutenant of the Ninety-second New York Infantry in June 1862). The diary belongs to the bookstore ‘Yeoman's in the Fork’, 4216 Old Hillsboro Road, Franklin, Tennessee 37064, and is included with the permission of the store.
The Image titled “Captain Jacob Thackery” in Chapter Five is registered with the Library of Congress Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-31453 (digital file from original item). There are no known restrictions on publication. In reality it shows Captain Jesse Sharpe Barnes, F Company, 4th North Carolina Infantry in frock coat, who was killed on May 31th 1862, at Seven Pines, Virginia.
The Image “Cousin Lucy” in Chapter Seven has been used Courtesy of Alaina Zulli – Gotham Patterns.
The Image “Pennsylvannia Avenue 1860” in Chapter Seven shows the view looking down Pennsylvania Ave. toward the unfinished Capitol, the National Hotel (now demolished) is shown on the left. It is registered with the Library of Congress - Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-23073 (digital file from original item). There are no known restrictions on publication.
The Image “The Battle of Shiloh” in Chapter Twelve is captioned “The fight at the Sunken Road was one of the Civil War's bloodiest moments. (Library of Congress)” It was painted in 1888 by Thure de Thulstrup. There are no restrictions with regard to publication. I herewith acknowledge the assistance given to me by Michelle Willard of the Murfreesboro Post newspaper, in Murfreeboro, Tennessee.
The I
mage “Fort Stevens – Washington” in Chapter Thirteen is included courtesy of the U.S. National Park Service.
The Image “Ulysses S.Grant – Staff Meeting” in Chapter Nineteen shows General U. S. Grant and staff, City Point, Virginia, summer of 1864. (Library of Congress). Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-34085 (digital file from original item. There are no known restrictions on publication.
The Image “General Jarvis’ Encampment” in Chapter Twenty-Three is entitled: Thanksgiving in camp sketched Thursday November 28th 1861 by Alfred R. Waud. It is registered with the Library of Congress - Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-21210 (digital file from original item. There are no known restrictions on publication.
The Image “John Wilkes Booth” in Chapter Twenty-Six was taken by Alexander Gardner, photographer to the Army of the Potomac and published by Philp and Solomons, Washington, D.C., in 1865. It is registered with the Library of Congress - Reproduction Number: LC-DIG-ppmsca-19233 (digital file from original recto). There are no known restrictions on publication.
The Image “The Ford Theatre 1865” in Chapter Twenty-Eight, has been taken from Wikipedia. The Photograph was taken by Mathew Brady (1823—1896). This image is in the public domain.
The Image “Assassination of President Lincoln” in Chapter Twenty-Nine is registered with the Library of Congress - Reproduction Number: LC-USZ62-4608 DLC (b&w film copy neg.). There are no known restrictions on publication.
The Image “Booth Is Captured” in Chapter Thirty-Three shows The killing of Booth, the assassin - the dying murderer drawn from the barn where he had taken refuge, on Garrett's farm, near Port Royal, Va., April 26th, 1865. It is registered with the Library of Congress - Reproduction Number: LC-USZ62-6936 (b&w film copy neg.). There are no known restrictions on publication.
I Wish I Was In Dixie
The lyrics to “(I Wish I Was In) Dixie’s Land” are credited to Daniel Decatur Emmett. Emmett published “Dixie” (under the title “I Wish I Was in Dixie's Land”) on June 21th 1860 through Firth, Pond & Co. in New York.
When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again
The lyrics to “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” were written by the Irish-American bandleader Patrick Gilmore during the American Civil War. Its first sheet music publication was deposited in the Library of Congress on September 26th 1863, with words and music credited to "Louis Lambert"; copyright was retained by the publisher, Henry Tolman & Co., of Boston.
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ALSO BY JOHN HOLT
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