Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America's Independence

From Publishers Weekly Confronting "the gender amnesia that surrounds the American Revolution," historian Berkin ( A Brilliant Solution: Inventing the American Constitution ) offers a lively account of women's various roles in the long, bloody conflict. Early forms of resistance included boycotting British cloth--and thus dusting off retired spinning wheels--and tea as women used "their purchasing power as a political weapon." As the conflict became a war in city streets and the neighboring countryside, houses became war zones; ordinary women often served as spies, saboteurs and couriers. Camp followers (often soldiers' wives) provided logistical support (cooking, washing, sewing, nursing, finding supplies) and occasionally even fought; prostitutes kept up soldiers' sexual (and social) morale. Generals' wives, "admired while the ordinary camp followers were often scorned," accompanied their husbands in different style; they boosted morale with dinner parties and dancing. Berkin reaches beyond white "American" women to chart the experiences of Loyalist women ("targets of Revolutionary governments eager to confiscate the property of... traitors"), Native American women (for whom "an American victory would have... tragic consequences") and African-American women (whose "loyalties were to their own future, not to Congress or to king"). First-person accounts lend immediacy and freshness to a lucidly written, well-researched account that is neither a romantic version of "a quaint and harmless war" nor "an effort to stand traditional history on its head." Agent, Dan Green. (Feb.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From Booklist Historian Berkin begins with the premise that American women's participation in the struggle for independence was not restricted to such celebrated figures as Abigail Adams, Martha Washington, Betsy Ross, and the apocryphal Molly Pitcher. Although conventional histories have traditionally been limited to chronicling the heroic exploits of a handful of women as opposed to masses of men, in truth the creation of a new nation required the active involvement of countless numbers of females. The author has subdivided these many stories into chapters recounting the experiences of women who protested against English policy, women who toiled on the homefront, women who followed the army, generals' wives, Loyalist women, Native American women, and African American women. What eventually emerges is a splendid overview of the remarkable contributions made by a cultural cross section of women during the course of the American Revolution. Margaret Flanagan Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved "Carol Berkin has merged the craft of the skilled historian and the sensitivity of a master storyteller with her sensibilities as a pioneering scholar of women to produce the best narrative of how women of diverse backgrounds experienced the American Revolution." --Edith Gelles, author of Portia: The World of Abigail Adams Revolutionary Mothers is an accessible, lively blend of great story-telling and recent scholarship, the most comprehensive study yet published of women in the American Revolution. Readers of all descriptions will enjoy and learn from it.--Mary Beth Norton, author of In the Devil’s Snare: The Salem Witchcraft Crisis of 1692 “Revolutionary Mothers is vintage Carol Berkin, incisive, thoughtful and spiced with vivid anecdotes that add another dimension to the narrative. Don't miss it.”--Thomas Fleming, author of Liberty! The American Revolution "Revolutionary Mothers is a treat to read. Not only is Carol Berkin a skillfulxa0writer, but she has placed women squarely at the center of the independencexa0movement. By showing the different roles women played, she moves the battlefield to wherever women were forced to make choices and employ their talents. Elite, poor, Euro, Native, and African American women collide in Berkin's book, as do the rebels and loyalists who were once friends and neighbors. A valuable and readable book."xa0xa0--Elaine Crane, author of Ebb Tide in New England: Women, Seaports, and Social Change, 1630-1800 Carol Berkin, professor of American history at Baruch College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York, is the author of A Brilliant Solution: Inventing the American Constitution, First Generations, and Jonathan Sewall . She lives in New York City. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One"The Easy Task of Obeying"There is a story told of John Winthrop, the first governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. One day in 1645, Governor Edward Hopkins of Connecticut consulted his friend Winthrop. Hopkins was greatly distressed, for his wife appeared to have completely lost her senses. Insanity had set in--without warning, he reported, and without apparent cause. Winthrop, however, instantly knew the origins of the woman's madness: reading books. "If she had attended her household affairs and such things as belong to women, and not gone out of her way and calling to meddle in such things as are proper to men, whose minds are stronger, etc.," he explained, then she might have "kept her wits." Few educated men of the following century would have made such a demeaning statement about a woman's intellect. Yet an equally small number were ready to concede that women, as much as men, had the capacity for rigorous formal education or political decision making. The philosophers of the Enlightenment, whose works were so popular among the eighteenth-century colonial leadership, might insist that all humans had the ability to reason, but not even the most radical of these philosophers suggested that the fairer sex had abilities equal to those of men. This debate over women's capacities was theoretical, of course, and few colonists, male or female, had the time or inclination to engage in it. Most colonial men and women--like most ordinary Americans today--took the gendered world as they found it, and, although what they found varied with social class and region, certain truths seemed too obvious to debate. Chief among a woman's truths was that God had created her to be a helpmate to man and Nature had formed her for this purpose. Her natural inclination was to obedience, fidelity, industriousness, and frugality and her natural function was bearing and nurturing children. From childhood, a woman heard her destiny as helpmate confirmed and affirmed by the authorities who peopled her world. Ministers sermonized it, educators elaborated it, lawmakers codified it, and poets versified it. From a pulpit in Massachusetts, the Puritan divine Cotton Mather urged a woman to be an "Ornament of Zion" by "look[ing] upon [a husband] as her guide" and recognizing that husband and wife are "but one mind in two bodies." In his 1712 book, The Well Ordered Family, the scholar Benjamin Wadsworth reminded women that God had made Eve as a helpmate to Adam and that the apostles required "wives be faithful in all things, keepers of the home." From the pages of his treatise Baron and Feme, Samuel Chase declared that "the law of nature has put [a wife] under the obedience of her husband," and the law of man must be made to agree. And, in his epic poem Paradise Lost, John Milton summed up the relationship between a husband and wife in an epigram of hierarchy: "He for God only / She for God in him."2 Thus, through precept, law, and custom, English society established the acceptable parameters of women's lives, just, of course, as it established those of men. On the whole, however, a woman's life was dominated by negatives. Born rich or poor, a woman faced restrictions on her economic independence, her legal identity, and her access to positions of formal authority. These restrictions nudged, or pushed, a woman into the narrow choice of marriage or spinsterhood. Colonial inheritance laws, drawn from English law, ensured her economic dependency, for sons were given land while daughters had to be content with movable property. Land ownership in colonial America defined a man as an independent citizen; the possession of cattle, slaves, and household goods defined a woman as a traveler from her father's house to her husband's. Sons might be apprenticed to learn skilled trades, brought into family businesses, or sent to college, but custom barred women from most crafts and the lingering belief that the female brain was too weak to absorb abstract ideas barred them from all but the most elementary education. Closed out of professions such as law and the ministry, landless, and with few acceptable occupations outside the household, most women who did not marry faced bleak futures as dependents in the homes of their parents or married sisters. Spinsterhood was more than a life of dependency. It was more than a mark of rejection, a sign that men found a woman, in the blunt language of New England, a "thornback." Without a husband, a woman remained in limbo between childhood and adulthood, for English colonial society offered her no other rites of passage but marriage and motherhood. While men could chart their maturity by the call to militia service, by voting and perhaps office holding, by positions of honor within the church, or by landownership, all these public venues of responsibility were closed to women. Marriage had its costs as well. As a feme sole, or woman alone, a colonial woman had access to a broader legal identity than she would as a matron. A feme sole could sue and be sued, earn what wages she could, buy and sell property, and will her assets to her heirs. Without these legal rights, a woman without family support would have become a burden on the state. Yet once a woman married, English society saw no need for her to enjoy these rights. In her new status as feme covert, or woman covered, all that she owned became her husband's property, even the clothes on her back. The noted English jurist Blackstone wrote lyrically of this deprivation, assuring new husbands that "by marriage, the husband and wife are one person in law: that is, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least is incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband" and reassuring new wives that they were secure under their husbands' "wing, protection, and cover."3 In exchange for this complete surrender, the law guaranteed her dower rights, declaring that in widowhood she would have the use, though not the actual ownership, of one-third of her husband's property. Women might cherish dower rights as recognition of their contribution to the family welfare, but colonial governments saw this provision in more practical terms. A woman's "thirds" protected the state from the burden of caring for an aging woman or a young widow with children. If the law rendered a wife dependent, it also required a man to support her from the grave. Colonial society ensured that women's identity was synonymous with the roles they played: wife and mother. Yet society could not ensure that the what and how of these roles remained uniform or constant. As the circumstances of women's lives grew more varied, the content of the roles changed. As cities grew, women adapted the repertoire of household skills to fit their urban lives. As social distinctions hardened, women of the upper classes adopted behavior that distinguished them from their poorer neighbors. Yet no matter how different the what and how, the why remained the same: women were helpmates to men. In the seventeenth century, when the colonies were overwhelmingly rural and agricultural, the traditional skills a woman brought to the marriage--a repertoire of domestic manufacturing and processing skills--were essential to the success of the family. Her domain was the household, the garden, and the henhouse, and her days were spent processing the raw materials her husband produced into usable items such as food, clothing, candles, and soap. In this environment, a woman's fertility was as vital as her productivity, for children were an essential labor force on small farms throughout the colonies. Seventeenth-century gravestones and eulogies attested to the value placed on motherhood. Thus, women who hoped to gain renown in their small rural communities had to demonstrate a lifelong commitment to industry, frugality, and fecundity. Rural housewives had little time for activities that the modern reader associates with housework: cleaning, dusting, polishing, and decorating. But in the colonial cities of the eighteenth century, among the growing ranks of prosperous mercantile families, these tasks now defined women's work. A consumer revolution--with its availability of cheap English cloth and the influx of luxury items that were now within the reach of the wealthy merchant or lawyer--had freed elite urban women from most production tasks. Able to purchase many of the goods their grandmothers had once made, these women turned their energies and attention to the refinement of their homes and of their families. With slaves or servants to assist them, and with greengrocers and bakers and seamstresses to supply their cupboards and their wardrobes, these "pretty gentlewomen," as one historian has called them, focused on the beautification of their homes and the genteel upbringing of their daughters. Along with this new set of chores came a new code of behavior, a new definition of femininity. Industry and frugality gave way to delicacy, refinement, and an attention to fashion. This new focus on gentility among the urban elite eliminated many housewifely activities, yet it also added others. Although they no longer churned butter or slaughtered pigs, these privileged women adopted a set of maintenance chores. Cleanliness became a mark of urban sophistication, and even when servants or slaves performed the unpleasant tasks of scouring, laundering, and polishing, the burden of ensuring an attractive domestic environment fell squarely upon their mistresses.4 Many women found themselves caught between the older ideal of "notable housewife" and the newer ideal of "pretty gentlewoman," and thus shouldering the burdens of gentility and the burdens of traditional housewifery. Thus, in addition to planting her garden and pickling her beef, Mary Holyoke, the wife of a prosperous country doctor, felt compelled to scour the pewter and hang pictures. In her daybook, Holyoke carefully recorded her w... Read more