In September a Civil War historian, J. David Hacker of Binghamton University, published his work of updated estimates of American Civil War deaths. Using the previous research of Provost Marshall James B. Fry, Francis Amasa Walker, and others, Hacker comes to a much larger number than assumed. The original 1866 death report by Fry for the Union army was 279,689. This number continued to grow as widows and orphans came forward to apply for pensions and survivors' benefits. A census superintendent, Walker, found a discrepancy in the 1870 census record (the census was taken every 10 years and the Civil War was fought from 1861-1865). President Grant pushed Walker to recount the population, as he felt that the country should have grown. Previous 19th century records showed a population growth of about 34% and instead the 1870 census showed only a growth of 22.6%. Walker argued the war was to blame for the lack of growth.
Walker stated in his report that the growth rate was a result of the...
“notorious and palpable effects of the war, which hampered the growth of
the black population, checked immigration, limited marriages and births
and led to the direct loss of close to a million men.”
At this time, the Surgeon Generals office had recorded approximately 304,000 Union deaths during the course of the war. They did not factor in those who died from disabilities or diseases as a result of the war. With this in mind, Walker estimated about 500,000 Union men died. When it came to estimating the Confederates deaths, Walker found it more difficult. Estimating using the total roster count and assuming the death tolls as a result of poorer nutrition, longer service, and lack of medical supplies and resources, close to 350,000 Confederates died.
Unfortunately for Walker, the census was put under investigation for fraud, and others took up the torch of research. Researchers did find that the Southern states were largely under-counted during the Reconstruction era of 1870 and was not fraudulent. A former Union private by the name of William F. Fox, took up the research, using battlefield death counts (which are inconclusive considering that many died from battle wounds after the 'official' count). These "incomplete" records proved at least 94,000 Confederates died as a result of the war.
In 1900 Thomas L. Livermore, who was also a Union army veteran, decided to compare the battlefield death tolls, calculating the compared risks of malnutrition and disease both armies would have faced during the war. With this estimate, he was able to conclude that 258,000 Confederate lives were lost.
Today popular belief, through years of research, brings the death toll to 618,222. But Hacker wanted to challenge this. By using the resources of new technology and the accessibility of the 1850, 1860, and 1870 census records, as well as demographics, and other research methods, he was able to estimate approximately 750,000 Union, Confederate, guerilla, and non-enlisted men who died as a result. This new estimate is huge, because it shows that 1 in 10 white men of military age died during the war (of course it leaves out the deaths of African Americans and Native Americans who fought during the war, as well as civilian deaths—this could result in about 100,000 more deaths).
To read the complete commentary of Hacker, go here.
Here he talks about how the new numbers show greater devastation of American lives.
As Clement Clark Moore lent tradition a vivid description of the 'jolly ol' elf,' Thomas Nast popularized the image of Santa Claus as we view him today: complete with red suit. His first published illustration of Santa Claus was in the January 1862 edition of Harper's Weekly. This issue included a full page spread of the sacrifices families were making the first Christmas of the American Civil War. (At this time the North was not fairing well in the war, as depicted in the smaller holly wreath below.) If you look close enough, there is a little Santa crawling into the chimney in the upper left corner.
"Christmas Eve"
Nast's inspiration in creating his vision of Santa Claus came from his German heritage, just as Moore was inspired. St. Nicholas, as the gift giver, was celebrated in Germany on December 6th. At was at this time, with the societal influence of Moore and Nast, that Santa Claus came to the United States as part of the secular and religious Christmas celebrations.
In most of Nast's Christmas illustrations he depicts Santa Claus, and as always the cartoons contain propaganda (if you didn't notice in the leading picture, Santa Claus is holding a puppet of Jefferson Davis). The following year, Nast drew the previous separated couple reunited.
"Christmas Eve, 1863"
By 1864, on the eve of Union victory, President Lincoln is shown absent of Santa Claus. In the illustration President Lincoln is shown ushering in soldiers into a banquet hall. The insets surrounding the large picture, show the Confederacy in acts of surrender and as the prodigal son returning home.
"The Union Christmas"
In the first Christmas illustration after the Civil War, a scene is drawn to illustrate the returning traditions of a "merry Christmas," now complete with the severed heads of former Confederate generals (at the bottom center of the picture).
Forgive me dear readers for not posting yesterday. I did not forget—Christmas shopping just takes a lot out of you. Since I neglected "Christmas Nightlight Readings" yesterday I will give you two today, starting with one of the most famous and adaptable Christmas stories from none other but Charles Dickens.
We have seen this story over and over again on film and stage, from "A Muppet Christmas Carol" (one of my favorites) to George C. Scott in "A Christmas Carol." I don't need to fill you in on the plot, because I don't know anyone who doesn't know the story. So as routine suggests, I will tell you the story behind the story.
As written in an earlier post, O Tannenbaum, the Victorian era reintroduced the tradition of the Christmas tree (via Queen Victoria and her German husband Prince Albert) to the world as well as many other traditions. The Victorian era was fraught with the coal smoke of the Industrial Revolution and capitalism was sweeping Christmas traditions under the rug. During the 1840s, when Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol, Englishmen were trying to reinvigorate traditions. In many ways Dickens own childhood inspired the characters and the plot, for he experienced a humiliating childhood and had great sympathy for the poor (he grew up poor). Immediately upon publication the book was a hit in Great Britain, but it received less enthusiasm in America (this was soon after Dickens' tourist journal of America was published and there were some hard feelings).
By the end of the Civil War, nearly every other household in America owned or had read A Christmas Carol. The story helped Americans remember the spirit of kindness and generosity. This story has been such a great influence, several adaptations have been produced (with an influx of made-for-TV movies). There is even evidence in its inspiration in "It's a Wonderful Life," and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
There are a couple things that I am excited about that are commemorating the 150th anniversary of the Civil War. First off, History Channel is showing a special documentary by Ridley Scott on Memorial Day entitled "Gettysburg." Here is a sneak peak below:
I was hoping to write this entry on Tuesday, but I spent part of my day at an educator job fair (which was a complete waste of time in my opinion, considering that no one is hiring), making my own pancakes at Slappy Cakes (and drinking a mimosa), and working on school work. However, I was able to stop by my local bookstore on the way home to pick up a special edition of TIME magazine featuring the 150th Anniversary of the Civil War.
With the celebration underway, I spent a week with my students participating in a mock Senate Meeting on sectional conflict. The class was divided in slave and free areas and they proposed bills, which would help spread progress ("king cotton" or Industrial Revolution) into the new frontier. The students who were part of the slave area quickly realized that they were largely opposed, as the free area continuously proposed bills on tariffs and export taxes, as well as moving the capital, and constructing a National Road to the frontier. The slave area constantly called out, "this isn't fair, they have more people than us!" Or, "the vice president always sides with the free area." This is reality people, life isn't fair; and politics are definitely not!
In the end the House proposed a bill that a state could leave the Union with proper cause and with 51% of their state votes. The free area, which stands for the majority, ruled against the passage of this bill. Outraged, the slave area made a motion to secede and start their own nation, without the oppression of unfair laws. The free area quickly made a motion in turn to bring the slave area back to the Union, which the majority seconded and agreed to declare war on the slave area.
In the next couple of weeks we will be discussing the regional differences of the North and South and what caused the United States to escalate into a war between the states, and the Civil War itself. Students will test their knowledge in a game of Civil War "Risk," which will allow them to move their troops from town to town on their country map. Which ever side captures the most cities wins the civil war.
Even though the American Civil War is taught every year in 8th grade and 11th grade classrooms around the U.S., regional conflict still presides, and in some cases, the Civil War is still being fought.
The following is a video from TIME, featuring those who are still living the Civil War through reenactments today.
The American Film Company is a rather new film company whose goal is to make historically accurate and entertaining films of events in America's history. I'm always on the search for period films, but I'm often disappointed in their inaccuracy, and instead of enjoying the acting, cinematography, and overall entertainment, I am sitting there nit-picking every historical fact and instance. I'm overjoyed to learn of this new film company and everything they are doing to bring out historically accurate films that are both full of fact, but entertaining as well!
Currently there is a film, "The Conspirator," that is being film, which is about the conspiracy of the Abraham Lincoln assassination. The film focuses on the accusation Mary Surratt in the conspiracy to murder the president and the young Union war hero who represents her in the military tribunal. The film is directed by Robert Redford, and stars James McAvoy, Robin Wright, Kevin Kline, Evan Rachel Wood, and Tom Wilkinson. There is no release day set on the website, but The Internet Movie Database has the date set for this year. However, I suspect it will be released in 2011.
Other films that are in production are "The Arsenal," which is about John Brown and the his band raiding the Harper's Ferry arsenal; and "Midnight Ride," which is about story of Paul Revere and his midnight ride and the start of the American Revolution.
This evening as I sit at my lap top listening to "Appalachian Spring" by Aaron Copland, I can't help but remember what our nation has been through. One hundred and forty-seven years ago our country men were fighting for preservation and state rights. At this specific time of year, I not only think of our up-coming Independence Day (which began over 230 years ago), but I also think of the turning point of the Civil War: Gettysburg.
Everyone learns about Gettysburg in their history classes, but the significance of the actual battle never seems to take weight as the teacher lectures to the students. I did not realize the significance until the fruition of my own research and writing of my manuscript. While I write I am transported to another time and become connected to the past. However, I am not writing this entry to talk about my manuscript, but to talk about what was occurring in 1863 at this time in June, leading into the July 1st commencement of the Battle of Gettysburg...and make it real to the readers.
York, Pennsylvania was a small town in 1863, full of farmers and German immigrants. There was something different about York from any other Northern town. This town was not full of Lincoln Republicans, despite the fact that there were several households that were part of the Underground Railroad. Many disagreed with the war and did not vote for Lincoln in the second election. However, as the Confederates moved northward, house wives frantically buried their silver and gentlemen transfered their stores farther north. They'd be damned if the Rebels got ahold of their belongings!
On June 28th, 1863 (yesterday 147 years ago), the York citizens were in their Sunday finery, departing church and going calling, when Confederate General William F. Smith's brigade marched into town. General Smith turned to his aide and told him to tell the brigade band to play "Yankee Doodle" as they marched into town. As the band played, General Smith led his brigade on horseback, bowing and saluting to every pretty girl on the street. At first the York citizens were shocked and beside themselves. They didn't know what to do. But then taken up by the pageantry of their arrival, they begin to cheer enthusiastically and follow them to the town square. The general took the town square and made a humorous speech which left the citizens and his brigade applauding. He finished his speech saying:
"What we all need on both sides is to mingle more with each other, so that we shall learn to know and appreciate each other. Now here's my brigade—I wish you knew them as I do. They are such a hospitable, wholehearted, fascinating lot of gentlemen. Why, just think of it—this part of Pennsylvania is ours today; we can do what we please with it. Yet we sincerely and heartily invite you to stay! Are we not a fine set of fellows?"
Meanwhile, down the line on the Columbia-Wrightsville Railway, Union troops are hurriedly burning and exploding bridges and rails to keep the Rebels from progressing. Two days from now, Rebels and Yanks run into each other in the "sleepy" town of Gettysburg while buying shoes. It is during the next two days that our future is forever changed. Union casualties estimate 23,000 out of 88,000 troops and Confederate casualties reach 20,000 out of 75,000. A definitive moment in the battle, the famous Pickett's Charge, becomes a definitive moment in the Civil War. From this point on all is changed.
The following posts contain a video of Pickett's Charge from the movie, "Gettysburg," and archival footage of the 75th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.
On October 19th, 1864, the town of St. Albans, Vermont was quiet as usual. It was the day after Market Day, business was slow, and most of the citizens were either in Montpelier for the meeting of the state legislature or in Burlington for the session of the Vermont Supreme Court.The locals referred to their home as “Rail City,” but in actuality St. Albans held the characteristics of a trade-post and farm residence; to the Confederate lieutenant, Bennett H. Young, St. Albans was an ideal location. With a railroad running through town, St. Albans was the largest town near the Canadian border with three prominent banks within a block of each other, and a convenient escape route into Canada. On that rainy Wednesday afternoon, the Confederate raiders exited their accommodations and placed the town under the possession of the Confederate States of America. They then commenced to arrest citizens and put them under guard on the town green, rob three banks, shoot at the stubborn Vermonters (critically injuring one man and killing another), steal horses, attempt to burn down the town with homemade Greek Fire, and manage to burn a farmer’s hay wagon as they were chased out of town. The raiders escaped into Canada, but were soon arrested as suspects in the St. Albans Raid. Tried under pretense of violating the neutrality laws of Canada and to conclude whether they should be extradited to the United States of America, Lieutenant Young and his fellow raiders argued they were commissioned officers performing their ordered duty in a time of war. The raiders had been commissioned by the Confederate Government and ordered to raid St. Albans, but they were not ordered to rob the banks, making the act a crime rather than an act of war.
During the trial in Montreal, Canada, the witnesses of the defense produced official Confederate Government papers, displaying the commission of Bennett H. Young (the leader of the raid). However, four commission letters from James A. Seddon, Confederate Secretary of War, were all signed and dated June 16, 1864. Bernard Devlin, representative of the United States, pointed out the contradicting and vague orders of three of the four letters, which James Seddon signed on the same day.
In the first instructions given, Young is ordered to proceed without delay by the route already indicated to him, and to report to C.C. Clay, Jun., for orders. In the second, the same Bennett H. Young is order to proceed without delay to the British Provinces, and there report himself to Messrs. Thompson and Clay for instruction. While in the third set of instructions he is informed, that the organization will be made under the control of the War Department.
At least one of the letters was legitimate enough to commission Bennett H. Young as Lieutenant in the Confederate army. William L. Price, a fellow prisoner of war and member of General John Hunt Morgan’s command, witnessed Young in action. Price saw Young “in the uniform used by Morgan’s command,” sharing that only commissioned officers were given uniforms, while enlistees “generally wear the clothes of citizens.” Young was also well known among Confederates in Chicago, where he and other raiders had previously escaped from Camp Douglas.
George N. Sanders, a Confederate also formerly belonging to General Morgan’s command, played a prominent role in managing the case of the Rebel raiders, claiming them all to be of “the first families of Kentucky.” Sanders tried desperately to promote the raiders to the Canadian public as honorable soldiers. He sent a letter to the editor of the Montreal Evening Telegraph, stating that the raiders “all having served in the Confederate army…and still in that service, were especially commissioned and detailed for that service, under the direct authority of, and, in fact, by direct orders from the government ofthe Confederate States.” Of course he was the one who formerly approached C.C. Clay, the Confederate Commissioner, who he convinced that attacking Northwest towns “would be legitimate acts of war in retaliation for the campaigns of” Sherman and Sheridan in the South. At this point in the American Civil War, the South was feeling the ever-tightening strain of the Federal blockade, and was losing ground. The St. Albans raid was supposed to be one of many, hoping that Federal troops would detach from the army in the South to fight off raiders on the Northern home front, while alleviating the Confederate troops from the on-going pressure of war and allow them to regain ground in the South. Clay then went ahead, sending a letter to Young, dated October 6, 1864, authorizing such raids as St. Albans.
Your report of your doings, under your instructions of 16th June last from the Secretary of War, covering the list of twenty Confederate soldiers who are escaped prisoners, collected and enrolled by you under those instructions, is received. Your suggestions for a raid upon accessible towns in Vermont, commencing with St. Albans, is approved, and you are authorized and required to act in conformity with that suggestion.
During the trial, George N. Sanders was called to the stand, as Clay was no longer in Canada, possibly fearing he had violated the neutrality laws. Sanders informed the court of Mr. Clay’s involvement in directing the raid and said, “Mr. Clay told me about the eighth day of December last, a few days before he left that he would leave such a letter as the paper writing marked P, and which I infer had not been written up to that time.” The fact that the letter wasn’t written until after the arrest of the St. Albans raiders, causes questions of the legitimacy of other letters between Young and Clay, which only showed proof of planning outside of Canada rather than from within.
Whether, Clay was afraid he had violated the neutrality laws of Canada, or that the St. Albans Raid was criminal, he definitely was fearful. In fact, he insisted he did not order the men to rob the banks. It is evident he did not hold the same sentiment as many of the other Confederates involved that the money should go to the Confederate Treasury for retribution in the damage caused by Generals Sherman and Sheridan and other such Federal campaigns. Jacob Thompson, a fellow Confederate commission agent, said, “I found that the raiders have refused to give up their money to Mr. Clay and that he has left the place in a huff, stigmatizing them as a band of thieves.” Clay had a fellow housemate, Beverly Tucker, write a testimonial on his involvement with the raid. On one occasion, when discussing the expedition with Young, Tucker overheard Clay remark, “that the object of his enterprise was to destroy property of the enemy by burning, etc., and that robbery was not contemplated in your instructions to him; and I think your words were: ‘Burn and destroy, but don’t rob, for this will demoralize your command.’” Other evidence shows Clay’s disgruntled attitude toward the raiders after the raid, leaving proof that he was anything but pleased by their actions.
The Confederate raiders of the St. Albans Raid were indeed guilty of robbing, murder, attempted murder, and arson. Fortunately for them they were deemed commissioned officers doing their authorized duty as soldiers of the Confederate government, not in violation of Canadian neutrality laws, concluding that they would not be extradited to the United States. Commissioned officers they most likely were, given the evidence of many authorized notes on Young’s commission, witness accounts of fellow soldiers in General Morgan’s command, and Clay’s admittance to the direction of the raid (the date of the above letter is irrelevant). However, the act of robbery seems to have not been authorized by Clay, leaving him displeased in the result of the raid, which he deemed “mere selfish plunder.” The commissioned raiders, although doing their duty in the act of war, became ruthless robbers in the small town of St. Albans, Vermont. In the eyes of many, they were mere criminals.
Today in 1854, a small group of abolitionists, former Democrats and Whigs, and those known as Free Soilers, met in a church in Ripon, Wisconsin, in order to join forces in fighting against the expansion of slavery into the Western territories of America. This unlikely group of men set anti-slavery resolutions and agreed to meet the following month. This meeting marked the birth of the Republican Party, named in honor of Jefferson's Democratic-Republican party, which stood for the 1776 republican values of equality and opposition against corruption and an aristocratic class.
Slavery had been an issue in America since the formation of American democracy. In order to unite the Southern colonies, the slavery issue had to be set aside, because without a union Americans would have surely fallen against the British. However, by 1820, the Missouri Compromise brought slavery into the limelight of politics; later to be overturned by the Kansas-Nebraska Act in the same year as the Republican Party's establishment. Still it would take seven years for the slavery issue and the issue of state's rights to break out in a Civil War—Jefferson even foresaw this war between the States during the infancy of the United States.
During the 1864 election, Radical Republicans and pro-war Democrats nominated Abraham Lincoln as their choice for president. Lincoln would become America's first Republican president during a time when the nation's union was at the greatest threat.
Currently Steven Spielberg is producing and directing a film entitled "Lincoln," based on historian Doris Kearns Goodwin's "Team of Rivals," set to be released in 2011. Liam Neeson has been cast as the the Great Emancipator. Robert Redford is also producing a Lincoln film entitled "The Conspirator," based on Mary Surrat's involvement in the conspiracy of Lincoln's assassination, set to be released sometime this year.
1863 December 25, Friday St. Albans, Vermont Cutters, black and shinning with fresh wax, and horses leading with the crisp sound of jingle bells coming from their leather harnesses, were parked in masses in front of the large, brick Colonial-style mansion of Governor Smith’s. The airy laughter and sweet voices of eligible girls and the charming, handsome, deep voices of the men followed right beside them. These men who were either not in the service of our country, or home for the holidays on furlough, or because the cause of injury at the front, were respected by even the oldest, sternest of matrons. No man or woman who were not received or respected in all of Franklin County would be caught dead if they were to come to the annual Christmas party Governor Smith put on.
I watched, jealous of these young folks my own age who were still alive. Girls who were plainer than me seemed to be enjoying themselves, flirting with the most available handsome gentleman at their arm. Myself, on the other hand, watched with envy in my mourning state at these bright and happy girls with beaux flocking to them with gleaming smiles and the exchange of warm kisses on their mitten covered hands. At first I was merely thankful that I was able to go out and join my first true social event—a Christmas party. Now as I walked with the Mathis family into the Smith’s mansion, as we greeted those we knew and were familiar with, I couldn’t help but feel depressed.
The warmth of the house was busy with lively chatter. Girls giggled and squealed as they greeted their friends with kisses, and exchanged holiday wishes with their male companions. I was to look somber, in my mourning gown that was buttoned from my waist to my chin, which wasn’t at all hard considering that I felt the least bit gleeful as I watched these young women having fun as I once had. Oh, how I missed those days. And for once, I felt like I needed to put Robert aside, and succumb to my selfish ambitions. Then as quickly as the thought came into my mind, I pushed it away—I should just be glad I was able to come out on Christmas to the party of the season.
We walked through the marble floored halls of the house and up the large stairway. The stairway was a sight to behold. All of crimson and tan colored marble, with an Asian rug draped and nailed right down the middle of the stairs. Young women in their beautiful frothy gowns, their slim shoulders bare, and the ruffles at their chest revealing a slight view of white bosom, lined the banister. Even the plainest of girls made them selves look pretty with the confidence they held in these majestic ballroom gowns that were new just for the occasion. Gentlemen of bachelor state stood at the base of the stairway calling up to the girls and making comical jokes just to make the girls giggle—the men, smiling with pride at the attention the girls paid them. Up the stairway we went through a throng of people who were gathered in front of large French doors, which were adorned with pine boughs and a large American flag and Vermont flag. We all waited patiently as we slowly migrated toward the ballroom. The French doors entered into the largest ballroom in all of Franklin County—and where the largest party commences. It was a tradition even the relations of those who resided in Franklin County could not pass up. Everyone had to come otherwise the year would not be complete without it.
The ballroom was brightly lit, alive with vibrant colors of garlands and red ribbon hung along the walls, gathered together in the center of the chandelier lit ceiling. Men in their best suits, neatly greased hair, and smelling strongly of cologne, danced around with the lovely women of Franklin County. The women, dressed in silk and velvet gowns from red to the palest blue, smiled happily with rosy cheeks, as their perfectly curled locks bounced at their powdered shoulders. The ten-piece orchestra on their small stage sported a lively waltz that made everyone laugh and smile with happiness as they danced around the marble floor. Everyone was cheery with the festive spirit and one couldn’t help but be caught up in the happiness of the holiday. From my perch beside Widow Mathis, along with all the older respectable matrons—such as Mrs. Chisholm, Mrs. House, Mrs. Childe, and Mrs. Smith the Governor’s wife herself, and of course Marguerite who “shouldn’t be on her feet too long in her delicate condition”—I enviously watched the dancers. I sat there listening to them gossip about everyone in the room and their relations. At first I was intrigued with their idle gossip, but after a while I became bored hearing about Fanny’s new beau from Maine or what Mr. Custis said to Miss Dutch the other night at the Laurence’s gathering, and could you believe that he would even have the gumption to sign her dance card? Now I found myself slouching in my chair and my toes tapping beneath my black gown where no one could see. It was so necessary for a woman in mourning not to be having a good time, now wasn’t it?
I looked around, at all the young people my age, having a spectacular time, dancing and flirting with one another. I watched Gaby as she danced with Landon and laughed with her friends Christine McGregor and Shay Buckingham. Then there was Seth who was trying very hard to get a young girl to dance with him. She only giggled and blushed, refusing, but obviously enjoying every moment Seth persisted. And of course there was Kara who didn’t feel the least bit of a need to bring down her pride in order to dance with a handsome man—for there were many who tried quite hard to get a hold of her dance card—she was quite content standing beside the punch bowl with a couple of her friends, trying so hard not to think of Bradley at a time like this. Seeing that I found every Mathis enjoying them selves, except for John…where was John?
My eyes searched my surroundings, seeking for his figure. He was nowhere to be seen. I sat up, trying to receive a better view. I looked through the mass on the dance floor—he was not there. My eyes scanned the room, looking along the many tables where food was piled high, and searched the perimeter of the ballroom where many people lined the walls as they chatted and sipped punch in fine crystal cups. But John was gone. He had disappeared from the lively atmosphere. Maybe he was sitting in one of the many alcoves that were curtained off by red velvet drapes lined with golden tassels. I thought for a moment that I would go search for him, but then thought better of it, and decided I would stay seated, resuming myself beside the renowned ladies of St. Albans, Vermont.
“Ella.”
I started and quickly turned to the voice beside me. It was John, the man I had been looking for. Why isn’t it the devil himself? “John,” I responded, nodding slightly as I regained composure.
He stepped closer to me and looked down at my feet that were still tapping and beginning to peak out from under my gown. John smiled and laughed. The first laugh I had heard from him all day. My lips curled slightly as I tried hard not to grin and encourage him.
“May I have this dance?” He asked sincerely, holding out his hand to me, searching deep into my eyes, and looking rigid and yet handsome in his uniform. His hair was greased and he smelled rich of cologne and cigar smoke.
The chatter between the women halted. I could feel them staring at both of us as they held their breath. Widow Mathis was the only brave one to respond to John’s outrageous gesture.
“John Mathis, Ella is in mourning,” she said sharply.
John only smiled and looked at his mother. “And too young and beautiful to be doing so. It is her decision—”
“Yes,” I said, a smile spreading across my lips without much effort as before. I put my mitted hand into his callused one and kept my eyes on his as I stood to my feet.
“I declare! What gumption that son of yours has, Mady! And the fastness…” I heard the gasps of the ladies who sat beside Widow Mathis, and I knew as soon as I was out of hearing distance I would be the topic of discussion—but I did not care. Tonight I would have a good time and I would enjoy my time with John.
I took John’s arm, his hand placed lightly over mine, and his face beamed. I could feel everyone’s eyes on the two of us as we took our place on the dance floor with everyone else. For once I didn’t care what others thought of me or how my reputation would stand after tonight—all I wanted was to dance, feel young again…and to laugh.
John bowed and I curtsied as the music started up. It was a lively dance, a heel-toe polka. John took my hand and put his other hand around my waist. With my free hand I held up my gown as we dashed along the dance floor, my feet following his lead. John grinned at me and I giggled happily. I felt alive again. I felt like myself, the person I really was.
Dance after dance, smiles were plastered on both of our faces, as he held me in his arms. We glided along the marble dance floor, never tiring or stopping to catch our breath. Finally the lively dancing began to slow and we paced ourselves as a plump woman came upon the stage. As the music still played she introduced the song.
“This is a ballad which was suggested by a recent incident. On the battlefield of Gettysburg, among many of our wounded soldiers was a young man, the only son of an aged mother. Hearing the surgeon tell his companions that he could not survive the ensuing night, he placed his hand upon his forehead,” the woman put her black-laced mitt to her forehead dramatically, “talking continually of his mother and sister, and said to his comrades assembled around him, ‘Break it gently to my mother’.”
I stood still, stunned by her address of the song as she began with her soprano, her hand placed somberly to her bosom. John still had a hold of me and he began leading me along the dance floor once again as we waltzed.
See! Ere the sun sinks behind those hills, Ere darkness the earth doth cover, You will lay me low, in the cold, damp ground, Break it gently to my mother! I see her sweet sad face on me now, And a smile doth o’er it hover; Oh God! I would spare the tears that will flow; Break it gently to my mother.
Good bye, my mother ever dear; Sister, you lover your brother; Comrades, I take a last farewell; Break it gently to my mother.
Oh, say that in battle I’ve nobly died; For Right and our Country’s honor; Like the reaper’s grain fell the deaden rain, Yet God saved our starry banner! My sister, playmate of boyhood’s years, Will lament her fallen brother; She must try to soothe our parent’s woe; Break it gently to my mother.
As she took on the chorus once again, I stopped my feet, making John halt in our place. I looked away from him, avoiding his concerned face that peered down at me.
“I must return home, it is nearing ten. Katie will be waiting up for me,” I told John, taking my hand from his.
“Surely Kay has put her to bed already,” he said, taking a step toward me.
I looked up at him, “Please, John,” I pleaded. Couples danced around us as we stood there. “This is the first night I have not been there to put her to bed. I am certain she is having a hard time sleeping tonight.” John didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his eyes looking sad and his lips pursed together. “Please—she needs me.”
John sighed and held out his hand to me, “Come, lets go home.”
I took his hand and he drew me close as we left the dance floor. We went toward the door and found Gaby sitting with Landon while they chatted and sipped on punch. They both looked up as we approached and their lips closed in mid conversation, silence coming between them.
“Tell Ma I had to escort Miss Coburg home. She has to check on Katie,” John instructed.
Gaby only nodded and the two of them watched us as we headed out of the ballroom and out of site. We passed by people coming and going in the hallway and reached the entryway. A woman with reddish hair fetched our coat and hats, eyeing us suspiciously as we headed out the door. The cold air rushed in our faces, making a shiver run up my spine.
“Good evenin’,” the Smith’s valet-butler greeted us with a smile and a tip of his hat. “Which one is yours?” He asked, gesturing to the many cutters lined in front of the Smith’s mansion.
“Let’s see,” John said, squinting in the dark. “I believe it is that one.” He pointed to a shinny black cutter that happened to look like all the others. A man’s shadow stood against it, his cap covering his face against the chill. “I believe we parked there.”
The butler gestured us to follow him through the maze of cutters in the snow. John’s arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to his side. I felt the warmth of his body as we moved forward, following the tall butler toward the cutter that was supposedly ours. As we approached it, the man leaning against it looked up, and we could see it was Thad. He bore a tired smile and rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“Time to venture home already, sir?” Thad asked, quickly stepping forward and opening the cutter door for us.
“Yes, Thad,” John said, patting him on the shoulder. John helped me into the cutter and then boosted himself in, sitting beside me.
“Merry Christmas!” The Smith’s butler called, as Thad closed the door.
John and I waved farewell, as the cutter pulled away—beginning the journey home. I watched John in silence as he lit the lamp inside, the dark slowly melting away. We sat in silence, both consumed with our own thoughts. The cutter slid gently over the snow and I could hear sleigh bells jingling lightly as we moved through the dark of Christmas night. I smiled to myself and shrugged, warding off the cold that threatened to take over. I felt John move in his seat beside me, getting comfortable. Watching him from the side of my eye he leaned his head back on the cushion of the seat and let out a long sigh. His eyes closed and I turned my head to watch him. He sat there looking so peaceful and so near I wanted to reach out and touch him, to hold him close and tell him that the war would be over soon and there would be no more dying. But I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I held myself back, afraid of too many things.
“To study history is to study the motives, the opinions, and the passions of men in order to know all the successes, the initiatives and the detours, and finally all the illusions that they make known to the mind and the surprises that they make the heart feel. In a word, it is to learn to known oneself in others.”—Jean Mabillon, 15th c. Benedictine scholar.
