The Jackal's Mistress

“His letters now had become a façade, because he saw no reason to share the brutality and the toll it was taking on him.”

After his quiet New England life and focus on family and academia, once he leaves the relative safety of the nation’s wartime capital, Weybridge is mired in the violence and gloom of war. He sees the world’s true face and humanity’s real capabilities and takes it upon himself to protect his wife in letters to her. However, this passage also indicates the distance that this obfuscation has created between Weybridge and his loved ones, highlighting his isolation even before he is physically abandoned by his fellow soldiers.

“The Yankees gave our boys a black eye today.”

These lighthearted words from Libby’s neighbor, Leveritt Covington, belie the seriousness of the topic, as he uses the metaphor of a “black eye” to describe military defeat. Dramatic irony is also employed, as the reader knows that Weybridge (a “Yankee”) was injured, but Libby does not yet know him or his condition. Covington’s nickname for Northerners (“Yankee”) is a term of uncertain origins, but during the American Civil War, it referred to Union soldiers in a derogatory way.

“Death was coming, but it was not here yet, and it seemed clear that he would have to face it alone.”

Weybridge personifies death as someone with whom he will soon battle. Indirect characterization reveals Weybridge’s forgiving nature, as he does not resent the young men who fled their duty in caring for him, leaving him to “face it alone.” The depiction of his fear highlights his vulnerability and begins to establish the theme of Humanizing the Enemy Through Shared Vulnerability.

“Maybe [Libby] was afraid that speaking too much of the deceased would bring all that sadness and grief to the surface like algae. Pond scum. And the bad, bad air that killed people.”

A switch in perspective to Jubilee calls attention to her role as an honest observer. Her interior monologue indirectly characterizes Libby as someone who keeps negative emotions locked away. Jubilee’s metaphor of sadness and grief as “algae” or “[p]ond scum” alludes to the miasma of steam and odor that often arises from swamps and stagnant pools. Before modern medicine, many thought that breathing in this “bad air” contributed to sickness and disease. The line foreshadows Libby’s coming emotional struggles by likening them to a physical ailment while calling to mind the death of Jubilee’s mother, Weybridge’s fight to survive, and the unknown condition of Peter and Jubilee’s father, Robert.

“He knew that no Union tribunal would accuse him of fraternizing with the enemy. It was this woman and her family he was worried about.”

Many wartime stories address the brotherhood of soldiers fighting for a cause or resisting an autocratic rule, but brotherhood between oneself and the enemy is a much grayer area. In The Jackal’s Mistress, connection to the enemy is a crime—although, as evidenced by Weybridge’s interior monologue and reflection on the topic, it happens all the time. Union soldiers trade food with Confederates, for example, when not in battle. Weybridge’s concern for Libby if she is caught fraternizing shows his consideration for her brave actions. He does not judge Libby’s background as a Southerner and instead values her actions, an example of the theme of humanizing the enemy through shared vulnerability.

“This battle is just one more round in a boxing match that’s been going on practically since Pete left.”

Libby can lie if it means keeping others safe and feign ignorance if it will help her reach a goal. To Doc Norton, she minimizes the danger of the trip to Harper’s Ferry, but it is more of a stage show of stubbornness than an indication of her feelings. Truthfully, she worries every time they hear cannon fire, but phrasing the danger as “just one more round” prompts Norton to accept her trip. Using the metaphor of a “boxing match” to represent the most recent nearby skirmish also highlights her understanding of it as part of a much longer battle, while her language choices and intent to go to Harper’s Ferry represent Civilian Resilience Under Military Authority.

“Libby carried both pieces of paper inside the house. Tomorrow, assuming she made it to Harper’s Ferry, these were the cards she would play.”

Gathering evidence of Weybridge’s identity without his permission, Libby demonstrates temerity and gumption. She also shows her propensity for logic, preparedness, and caution in procuring proof of his presence. At the same time, her metaphorical word choice in interior monologue (“the cards she would play”) shows that she understands the riskiness of the venture and the slim chance of a “win” from Union officers.

“The war had allowed them to be themselves—execrable and unrepentant—in ways they couldn’t before Sumter.”

Libby’s interior monologue upon meeting Wells on the road to Harper’s Ferry reveals additional clues about her. Through word choice, she subtly alludes to archetypal, biblical evil, using the word “unrepentant,” with its religious connotations, and the archaic “execrable” instead of simply “terrible” or “awful.” In some translations, “execrable” appears in the Bible, as in Ezekiel 24:13, “Your uncleanness is execrable…” She also alludes to South Carolina’s Fort Sumter and the shots fired there on April 12, 1861. To Libby, Sumter represents the moment “bad” men began to feel more uninhibited in showing their true selves; her thoughts connect to the overarching idea in the novel that war prompts base behavior in humans.

“This is gonna be good […] I can’t wait to hear what a Mr. Jackal says to a Mrs. Jackal.”

Jubilee’s youthful exuberance and curiosity are on display in her conversations with Weybridge. She does not hide the fact that she will pen his letter to Emily, not out of compassion or kindness but because she is nosy about the contents. Her words focus on jackal symbolism, showcasing Weybridge as sneaky and sly. That Weybridge will reveal his emotions to Jubilee by dictating a personal letter builds the theme of humanizing the enemy through shared vulnerability.

“It was as if she were in a fairy tale and under a spell. Bewitched. Weybridge had tried to thank her with Shakespeare. She gazed up at the canopy of trees and this shadowy stretch of forest and thought to herself, perhaps instead he should have quoted the Brothers Grimm.”

After Libby shoots the two rebel men, she reflects in an interior monologue on the setting through a simile (“as if she were in a fairy tale”) and an allusion to the tales of the Brothers Grimm. The Brothers Grimm (Jacob and Wilhelm) collected and published what would become a foundational fairy tale text, including stories like “Snow White” (1812) Comparing the woods around her to a fairy tale shows Libby’s talent for metaphorical thought, while her comparison of Shakespeare to these fairy tales suggests that she sees their darker tone more suited to her circumstances than the Bard’s lofty language and classic themes.

“She will. Someone picks a fight with her or Joseph? She’s a wildcat. And he’s too smart to get killed.”

Weybridge sees that Jubilee’s comment about her aunt and Joseph is more of the young girl’s false bravado—“whistling in the dark” (153), as he puts it in his interior monologue—but her exaggerations do not annoy him. In fact, each time Jubilee visits him, his general affection for her grows. Jubilee shows her outspokenness with this bold statement, and her metaphor of Libby as a “wildcat” illustrates her respect for her aunt.

“‘I’ve only done what any decent woman would do. Good night,’ she said, and then she turned to leave, the room growing dark behind her and the word decent echoing in her mind.”

Characters draw attention to the significance of individual words several times in the novel; for example, Weybridge wonders about the ironic meaning of “fraternization” in Chapter 7. Here, Libby shows that her sins, including the murders of three men and her potential plan to trade Weybridge for her imprisoned husband, cause her to question the meaning of “decency.” Her actions contribute to the protection of those she loves in a time when turning to the law is not possible, building the theme of moral decisions amid societal collapse.

“But Jubilee was most likely right about one thing: as resilient and independent as she was, Libby Steadman certainly wasn’t a killer.”

Weybridge’s interior monologue uses dramatic irony, since the novel has already revealed that Libby has killed multiple times. Weybridge’s certainty on the matter is also situational irony, in that Weybridge is a learned academic and professor, but in this instance of knowing or judging character, he shows the limitations of his education.

“The afternoon sky was waxen and stark, an endless flatness the color of eggshells. In the pasture, the two horses and the lone cow were grazing. The day was windless, and the birds, at the moment, were silent.”

The author employs sensory imagery to suggest not just a calm setting but a foreboding one that foreshadows coming dangers in Part 2 of the novel. For example, the sky is not cloudy or clear but “waxen” (a word often used to describe the pallor of death) and “stark” (which connotes a lack of comfort and fulfilment). The stillness of the air also evokes the idea of the calm before a storm.

“We have not sunk so low that you are entering a married woman’s bedroom to leer while her husband is in a bluebelly prison camp.”

Libby relies on the social construct of honor, a prevalent idea in the American South’s culture, to prevent a Confederate officer, Sears, from finding Weybridge in her bedroom. Ironically, the idea of honor is the only thing keeping Sears from stepping inside the room, where Weybridge waits to hit him with a pitcher. It is also ironic that Libby uses honor to her advantage with Sears, when she is keeping her murder of three men secret from all but Joseph.

“Here’s what has me scratching my head. Yankee captain vanishes—Poof!—and suddenly Doc Norton has quinine and carbolic acid and whiskey. You follow me?”

Lieutenant Morgan transitions into a more obvious antagonist in Part 2. Here, his tone is full of sarcasm as he interrogates Sally and Joseph. His use of onomatopoeia (“Poof!”) highlights his mockery and impatience. Ironically, Libby and Doc Norton thought favorably about having extra supplies of quinine and carbolic acid to save lives when, in actuality, the abundance of items Libby brings from the Union garrison is too telling, and along with Norton’s visits to Libby, tips Morgan off to the probable presence of a harbored soldier.

“Who are we saying is in that coffin, since it ain’t Lazarus?”

Sally alludes to the biblical figure Lazarus, whom Jesus rose from the dead. She uses a slightly cynical tone to center attention on a missing part of their plan to evacuate Weybridge by way of a coffin. Her question goes unanswered, leaving the topic of death hanging, but her comment darkens the mood of the escape plan and foreshadows the coming tragedy (her death).

“I know this ain’t the work of a woodpecker.”

This line illustrates Jubilee’s talent for pithy comments and quick comebacks. Jubilee first complains that others, upon seeing the coffin, might suspect it is a fake since Joseph chose wood full of holes. Jubilee is only 12, but her outspoken ways and no-sugar-coating style show a cynical maturity imposed upon her by the struggles of war, her mother’s death, and her father’s absence.

“I’m tired of shooting people like deer. But I’m much more tired of being bullied and threatened. On the road, in my kitchen. Rangers, blackberry pickers, criminals. Henry Morgan may be Leveritt Covington’s kin and a soldier who, I presumed until tonight, was an honorable man. But I will not go quietly. No, I will not.”

Ironically, the men Libby has killed and will kill in the coming battle are supposedly on her side. The novel’s overarching lesson regards the general downward spiral of morals in wartime, a notion Libby succinctly sums up here in her “take a stand” moment; she conveys how the fighting has wearied and changed men of honor into bad men and bad men into monsters.

“Perhaps God, whatever or whomever he was, had not created us in his image, but instead saw us more like the minotaur, part man and part bull, or the animated corpse birthed by Mary Shelley.”

Suiting his character, Weybridge’s thoughts turn literary even right before Morgan’s men enter Libby’s farm, and violence ensues. The motif of Weybridge’s literary allusions often brings up metaphorical comparisons to writers and books; here, his allusions are to the Greek myth of Theseus and Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818). The minotaur, a mythical creature with the body of a man and the head and tail of a fierce bull, waited at the center of a complex labyrinth to feast on human sacrifices. The “animated corpse” refers to the monster brought to life by Dr. Victor Frankenstein in Shelley’s novel, a creature incapable of enough emotional and physical control to prevent harm to others. Weybridge is suggesting that mankind lacks humanity and kindness in war, succumbing instead to uncontrollable urges and violence.

“Whether those rebels thought the bodies were slaves or Steadmans hoping to find a final peace wouldn’t matter to the delusional men down there, angry killers with grievances who didn’t understand that the war was long over, and their cause long lost.”

Libby’s interior monologue as she watches rebel cavalrymen destroy her property shows the depth of her change. Until now, she has clung to the belief that while some errant thieves and deserters show cowardice, most officers and soldiers display honor in believing that their fight was righteous. When Libby’s faith in Morgan as an honorable man disintegrates, she realizes how badly the Confederacy has erred in supporting enslavement. This interior monologue commentary foreshadows her important lesson to Jubilee in Harper’s Ferry that they must call out enslavement for the sin that it is, an example of moral decisions amid societal collapse.

“She’d sleep after they killed her. Or when they reached Harper’s Ferry. Whichever came first.”

Libby is a multidimensional, complex character who faces desperate choices and occasionally is tempted to give up or give in. Here, in the wagon after Sally’s death, her shrewdness resurfaces, and she rejects the idea that circumstances can best her. Libby’s tone is never shy, showcasing her hardened spirit and practicality, and her use of cutting phrasing shows her acceptance and familiarity with danger and risk.

“We mortals get it wrong much more often than we get it right.”

Libby refers here specifically to guessing Weybridge’s thoughts when he is in reverie, but her larger meaning reflects the lesson she has learned from observing others’ behavior in war and in saving the “enemy.” Libby has also discovered she was thoroughly wrong about her husband—he is alive, an unexpected and ironic twist that directly follows her passionate night with Weybridge.