Thursday, February 19, 2015

February 20, 1865---"And ain't I a woman?"



FEBRUARY 20, 1865:       

Well-known violinist Camilla Urso (1840-1902), Prima Donna Madame Varian, Pianists Teresa Carreno and Edward Hoffman, and Signor Fellini, Baritone, all appear for the first of three Grand Concerts at Niblo’s Saloon in New York City. Tickets are $1.00. Reserved seats are 50 cents extra.  Urso was a child prodigy who played with both the New York and Boston Philharmonics during her career. Although she had been a resident of Nashville before the war she never returned to the South for any extended period of time after the war. She is buried in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn. 




Mollie Bean, who had fought at Gettysburg and been wounded (twice) as a member of the 47th North Carolina (C.S.) Regiment while dressed as a male, is interrogated by Union officers after having been captured on February 17th.  Declaring her “manifestly crazy,” they incarcerate Bean, who is charged with espionage for lack of evidence of any other wrongdoing. 




Of all segments of the American population during the Civil War conditions changed more for women than for any other group (possibly excepting slaves). As late as the 1850s, most women could not be property owners in most States --- property was held “in trust” for even adult and elderly women by their “nearest male relatives” no matter how distant or strained the relationship. 


This Old World legal approach changed as America expanded westward. On the frontier, the death of a male spouse by mischance or disease or Indian attack, or alternately, abandonment of wives and children, put tremendous pressure on the old system. Often, the “nearest male relative” of a widowed or abandoned woman with offspring was a thousand miles distant. Communications were poor, and male relations “back East” had no idea how to manage, and little interest in managing, unseen frontier properties with which they were completely unfamiliar. Thus, Western States began granting limited property rights, first to widows and then to abandoned females with children, although male authorities such as Judges and town councilmen (and they were all men) effectively dominated womens’ decisionmaking capabilities on a local level. 

The spouses of a fashionable "Boston Marriage" on their wedding day



As conditions changed out West they also changed back East. More progressive States such as Massachusetts began to recognize the female right to manage and dispose of property. Massachusetts in fact became so liberal that lesbian couples began householding together, able to dispose of and share property together. These “Boston marriages” had some limited recognition under State, though not Federal, law.  


At the outset of the Civil War women’s rights were still restricted, but were poised to expand greatly. Among the earliest area of growth was in the Nursing Service. Although Dorothea Dix had had to agree to hire only female medical caregivers who were “old and ugly” at the outset of the war, and although she enforced this rule as late as 1863, the demand for nurses, and more importantly, skilled nurses, began to override such absurd restrictions. 

Clarissa Harlowe "Clara" Barton (1821-1912), the Union's "Angel of the Battlefield" at Fredericksburg



Until the 1840s Nursing had been the unique province of (ironically enough) religious sisters and prostitutes in equal measure. Florence Nightingale’s great work during the Crimean War of the mid-1850s had legitimized Nursing, and Clara Barton, a Massachusetts Unionist, had imported Miss Nightingale’s techniques to America during the dawning days of the war. Barton would eventually found the American Red Cross. 

As an unchaperoned woman in the Union's army camps, Clara Barton was initially derided as a prostitute. On his deathbed, her father charged her to put her loyalty to the Union above her personal concerns about reputation. She was later decorated by U.S. Grant for her patriotic work.



Teaching was also a predominantly female profession, and it became more so during the war as men went to fight. The tradition of the “Old Maid” or the “spinster schoolmarm” took a body blow during the war as young, vital women stepped into the roles of mentors for the young people of their communities. 




As men went to the front, it became necessary to hire women to do work traditionally done by men. Women began working in Northern factories, weaving textiles, loading powder into shells, and doing other such “unladylike” tasks. 


The idea of women in the labor force took only a little longer to take hold in the South. Working women and girls were far more indispensable in the Confederacy given its smaller overall population. Women worked in high-risk jobs, such as at the Tredegar Iron Works, where they were at risk for injury or death dealing with munitions. Many did die in industrial accidents, both North and South. 

Women at work in a munitions factory during the war. Note the hats hanging on the wall



Women fought as soldiers on both sides, over 400 of them, in uniform, secretly, dressed as men, and there were a small number of female officers (like Union Major Pauline Cushman) who worked at Headquarters and / or behind the lines as spies, like Rose Greenhow, Belle Boyd, and Elizabeth Van Lew. Both the North and the South had a handful of female physicians and technicians in the ranks.

A Union nurse (perhaps Clara Barton herself) caring for hospitalized soldiers



Without men around, women became far more financially independent perforce, managing their own homes, bank accounts, farms and plantations. Women also found themselves at the forefront of critical social changes --- should they sell slaves South, manumit them, or allow them to be liberated (seized?) by Union troops?  Should they sell acreage or breed the mares? Should they butcher the cattle and the swine? Often, it was a woman’s decision that determined the fate of the old family farm or the postwar conditions to which the menfolk returned (if and when they returned at all).  


The South as a whole suffered an almost total economic dislocation due to the war, and there are areas of the South today that are arguably still experiencing post-Civil War aftereffects.

A young Confederate widow and her fatherless son



It is known, through pension records, that most Union widows (90%) remarried within ten years after the war (1875), a statistically significant portion of them to older veterans (as reflected in a bump in Survivor benefits in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries). 


However, little is known about Confederate widows or indeed Southern marriage patterns after the war other than a general belief that the majority of these women did eventually marry or remarry, many to disabled Confederate veterans.. This is one of the most understudied areas of the Civil War.  


There were, of course, no pension records for the population of the Old South, and the Eighth Decennial Census of 1870 is uniformly considered the most incomplete and hence inaccurate census of the United States. What is known is that there was a vast imbalance between the number of available women and available men in the South following the Civil War. 


In 1880, 33% of Southern women were widowed and 20% of Southern women identified as having been Confederate widows, although it is uncertain how many of them had remarried in the interim.  The only sure thing is that the postbellum Southern birth rate was significantly lower than the antebellum birth rate, and remained depressed for generations thereafter.  


After the war, women both North and South guarded their newly-won independence, forming the core of the Progressive Era’s Women’s Rights Movement, and the Suffragette Movement, which gave the vote to women in 1920.




All these situations, of course, concerned white women exclusively. Black women (free and slave) always worked to support themselves and their children, or because, as slaves, they had no choice.  


Sojourner Truth (1797-1883), a New York-born Dutch-speaking ex-slave, criticized white males who consigned women to the category of the “weaker sex” in her fiery speech entitled Ain’t I A Woman?, the 1863 version of which is reproduced (without the usual transcription in dialect) below:






Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that betwixt the niggers of the South and the women of the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what is all this talking about?


That man over there says that “Woman” needs to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! 


And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! 


And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man --- when I could get it --- and bear the lash as well! 


And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen them most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! 


And ain't I a woman?


Then they talk about this thing in the head; what this they call it? ("Intellect," whispered someone near.) That's it, honey. What's that got to do with Women's Rights or Nigger's Rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half-measure full? 


Then that little man in back there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, because Christ wasn't a woman! 


Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.


If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! 


And now they are asking to do it . . . the men better let them . . . 


I’m obliged to you for hearing me out, and now old Sojourner hasn't got nothing more to say.







 This post is dedicated to Sandi














Wednesday, February 18, 2015

February 19, 1865---The Battle of Fort Anderson


FEBRUARY 19, 1865:       


The Battle of Fort Anderson:                   

Fort Anderson, on the Cape Fear River, falls to Union forces. With the loss of the last remaining bulwark between the city and the sea, the fall of Wilmington is assured. 

The present-day ruins of Fort Anderson in North Carolina

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

February 18, 1865---Charleston's Fall


FEBRUARY 18, 1865:        

The fall of Charleston:

The last palmetto in Charleston, February 1865

As the sun rises over South Carolina, a bitter black pall hangs over the State, rising from what had been its proud capital city. After a night of destruction worthy of The Chronicles of The Barbarians, there is near nothing left of Columbia.



David Conyngham, a Columbia resident, memorializes the scene: 

The 18th of February dawned upon a city of ruins . . . Nothing remained but the tall, spectre-looking chimneys. The noble-looking trees that shaded the streets, the flower gardens that graced them, were blasted and withered by fire. The streets were full of rubbish, broken furniture and groups of crouching, desponding, weeping, helpless women and children . . . That long street of rich stores, the fine hotels, the court-houses, the extensive convent buldings, and last the old capitol, where the order of secession was passed...were all in one heap of unsightly ruins and rubbish.

Heartbreak today shall be the handmaiden of disaster, as indomitable Charleston strikes its colors just as day breaks.

With the withdrawal of General P.G.T. Beauregard’s city garrison troops toward North Carolina and the cutting of the city’s overland link with Columbia, Charleston, South Carolina, “The Cradle of Secession” surrenders to Union troops under Prussian-born General Alexander Schimmelfennig.

Fearing that General Sherman will head east to burn Charleston, the City Fathers choose to submit to Schimmelfennig, the leader of the Union’s longtime regional ground assault against the city, but implore him not to burn Charleston to the ground. When Schimmelfennig surveys the blasted city he agrees to leave it as it is. Thus, a few of Charleston’s magnificent live oaks and a handful of its shell-pocked antebellum homes survive the war, as does a single palmetto. 


The 55th Massachusetts Regiment (U.S.C.T.) is the first Union force to enter the city. Made up of many former slaves from South Carolina, and from Charleston particularly, the men of the 55th were told they must keep in their ranks, but they could “shout and sing as they chose.” Many of the men discover relatives in the city and emancipate brothers, sisters, parents, kith and kin.

The task of the 55th Massachusetts quickly turns to firefighting, putting out myriads of small fires set by Confederates determined to burn what little is left of the city.

The city is a heap of ruins, its downtown having burned in late 1861, and its environs having been daily bombarded by a combined Union land-sea assault every day since the Battle of Gettysburg. 


It has been a long time since heavily-blockaded Charleston has contributed significantly to the South’s Civil War effort, but the city is far more important as a symbol: It is the Confederacy’s Lexington and Concord; and its implacable resistance to the Union’s unending attacks have made it into the beating heart of Confederate resistance and willpower.

Now that heart is stilled. The cradle has fallen.

The Charleston Armory

The Union quickly broadcasts news of Charleston’s surrender worldwide. As word of Charleston’s fall spreads throughout the States of America and beyond, the North rejoices; the South grieves. Most Unionists realize that victory is upon them. Most Confederates recognize defeat.

The Mobile Register laments:

The people are not whipped but cowed. Their souls and not their hands are disarmed. Our strength is, not sapped, but our courage is oozing out at the ends of our fingers.

 


A fresh rash of “French leaves” strikes the remaining Confederate forces, shrinking the already shrunken armies even more. Throughout the South people begin quietly to feed their Stainless Banners and portraits of Jefferson Davis to their fireplaces and stoves, though portraits of Robert E. Lee are lovingly packed away in attic trunks.

In the Border States and in areas Reconstructed or restored to the Union, Southron patriots have not been quiescent. Although armed resistance has been proven futile in most places and in most hearts and minds, the until-recently Confederate citizenry of such regions have refused to give up all hope of a Confederate resurgence. Many have been waiting for the war to take another of its inexplicable turns as it did in the Summer of 1864. Incidents of minor sabotage have not been uncommon. Civil Resistance to Union edicts has not been unknown. Non-cooperation with Union officials has been widespread. Ordinary rudeness has been a method of rebel expression toward Union representatives, even the local postmasters.  Excessive courtesy is a sign of hateful disdain. (Confederate women are particularly adept at such behavior, even to this day. Ask any Southern belle what “Bless your heart” really means and you will be answered by a sly chuckle or a wall-shaking guffaw.)  With the collapse of South Carolina, the resisters in the North, most of them, silently give up.  

In some areas of the Confederacy the shift back to Unionism is sudden, dramatic, and violent. Nowhere is it more so than in Loudoun and Fauquier Counties in Virginia, “Mosby’s Confederacy.” The area, nominally Union-held since just after Fort Sumter, has been a flaming hotbed of Confederate nationalism throughout the war, allowing Mosby’s Rangers to operate unchecked throughout the region. 


As the fortunes of war changed in the Fall of 1864, Mosby was forced to impose taxes in-kind --- food, cloth and other necessaries --- on the loyal citizens of his little Confederacy. Few balked at first, but the hard winter of 1864-65, and the scorched earth policy imposed by the Union upon much of Mosby’s Confederacy from November 28th to December 2nd has made the tax in kind nearly impossible to pay. Mosby’s men have been reduced to scavenging and raiding their own stalwarts, a state of affairs that has turned many of the struggling locals against Mosby. A small-scale civil war amidst the larger Civil War breaks out in Mosby’s Confederacy, a battle between the local Unionists and hungry Confederates on one side, and die-hard Confederate patriots on the other. Mosby’s position is worsened by the fact that those who pledge allegiance to the United States have their barns rebuilt, their livestock replaced, and food freely delivered by the Federal troops in the area, a Hearts & Minds policy that Mosby cannot hope to match. More and more often, his men find themselves bivouacking in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains rather than, as formerly, in the once-common safe houses in his Confederacy.



Harper’s Weekly sounds a clarion call:

That Charleston should fall was inevitable. That Charleston should fall without a blow was inconceivable . . . If there were any possible last ditch it was the streets of Charleston . . . It has been considered, indeed, the special seat of rebellion. It has always been a nursery of treason . . . It was a strange scene on that April day four years ago. The spectators cheered and wept for joy, and the merry bells rang, when the flag of their country fell for the first time, shot down by its own children. Did the spectators of that day remember it when at last that flag returned triumphant? Over how much bitter agony, through what seas of costly blood, across what blighted hopes and ruined lives it returned; but also over the desolation of Carolinian homes which Carolina has wrought; over the wide waste of fortunes which Carolina has destroyed; over the treacherous doctrine of State supremacy which Carolina has hugged snakelike to her breast; over the relics of slavery which Carolina has abolished. The old flag returns. Peace, union, and prosperity are the benedictions it imparts . . . 

St. Michael's Church,  February 1865

St. Michael's Church, February 2015

Today's Historic District