Immigrant Women

Despite its colorless title, The Colors of Courage is an interesting and revealing book that’s well worth the reading. One learns much about native (Yankee) prejudice against German immigrants (allegedly stupid, clownish and cowardly), what happened in the town of Gettysburg during the three days of battle, and the experience of northern blacks, especially those near the Mason-Dixon line (only 7 miles away). Much fascinating material has been uncovered by fruitful research. The style of cool appraisal of historical fact though often gives way to one in which the author’s paternalistic bigheartedness is apparent. Refreshingly, the author rejects the usual attempts at evoking sympathy or a misguided evenhandedness for the Confederacy and its soldiers, and presents the rebel army in all the horrific racism that was its soul and raison d’etre.

It is distressing though that much of the book is given over to a cloying gender self-promotion. Claims are made for the courageous self-sacrifice of Gettysburg womanhood, but little real courage is really described. The only incident that stands out in my mind is the fact that some Gettysburg women prepared meals for the Confederate soldiers who occupied the town during the battle, soldiers who, given the opportunity, would have killed their husbands, sons, brothers and fathers. These meals were prepared under some duress, of course, but when one woman courageously refuses she goes unpunished. But what could one expect from a gender that, in a 19th century rural backwater, suffered all the quasi-slavery and humiliations imposed by unchallenged male superiority — not a fertile nursery for courage. The author notes many episodes of women’s lives in Gettysburg, episodes that made me cringe with shame for these poor put-upon women. But amazingly these episodes are not presented as shameful at all, as if that would diminish these women as proud bearers of the title of womanhood. While chattel slavery is forthrightly despised, in this book gender slavery gets off scot-free! There is hardly a word that points the finger critically at the male superiority that so diminished the lives of these women. It’s the elephant in the parlor — overwhelmingly present, but unmentioned.

Despite this bizarre frame of reference, The Colors of Courage presents aspects of the war and the society that lived in its midst that are well worth discovering and whose uncovering justifies the obvious effort devoted to bringing these sidelights of the war to view.

Rating: 4 / 5

I enjoyed Margaret Creighton’s book. From far off Yarmouth, Maine, she has thrown her nets far and wide and hauled in a lot of historical flotsam and jetsam that might have escaped other scholars, in service of putting together another of her finely tuned historical studies of the underserved in American history. Here we find out more about the immigrant populations who comprised the Union Army, as well as the actual lives of the women of Gettysburg and the black citizens of the surrounding area. These are the shadow puppets of history, the folks who you might never have learned about by visiting the national park nor studying your social studies book.

You probably heard more about Mamie Eisenhower’s residence at Gettysburg than you did about the women who were drafted into battle, whether they were forced to nurse, to cook, to slave, or to fight. Why is this? Partially, as Professor Creighton explains, these women were told, and they believed it, that their sacrifices did not matter. And that, perhaps, there was even something a little bit shameful about what they did, particularly if they were required to assist the invading Confederate army. Of the ravishment and rape that undoubtedly occurred, we know little but can surmise much, thanks to Creighton’s research and the guarded testimony of forty Gettysburg women, mostly farmwives. Creighton looks at the nuance behind every statement, searching out human reality wherever it crops it head. “A middle-aged woman on a farm opened her door to a soldier on July second. By the way he was dressed, she was sure that he was a Louisiana Tiger. He told her that `General Lee had said that they should ask for food and if they would not give it they should demand it and that was what he was going to do.’ She fed him ham. He ate some of it and then insulted her. The bread, he complained, was not fit to eat, `Madam,’ he said, `I can go into any cabin in Virginia, poor and desolate as it is, from Winchester to Richmond, with not a fence standing, and get a better dinner than this.’” Creighton returns to this anecdote to eke out perceptions on the nature of resistance, and the implacability of the bad ham (Gettysburg women had to be fine actresses, for otherwise the Tiger in question might have guessed that the farmwife had fine chickens hidden with their beaks taped.)

As Creighton acknowledges, the presence of women on the Gettysburg battlefield is currently a contested site for scholars, particular feminist scholars, and she acknowledges that a host of others are trawling the same fields. The material remains of interest, and does indeed widen our picture of what happened that summer long ago, but I wondered, after finishing the book, if perhaps she might have written three separate books, for there’s a sense in which the struggles of the immigrant soldiers, the Gettysburg women, and the freed, escaped or citizen slaves are experiences of very different registers and don’t mesh together especially well except under cloudy language of the deracinated and ignored, and although Creighton tries her best, she can only link them this vaguely for the first two hundred times, then after that her rhetoric grows tiresome.
Rating: 5 / 5