by Ginny Dye
Jeremy walked from the room to answer the door, as the rest exchanged looks of curiosity.
“Is it too late to intrude upon a friend’s home?”
Carrie’s eyes widened when she recognized Anthony’s voice. She didn’t miss Marietta’s knowing smile as she slipped into the kitchen to get more pie.
Jeremy’s voice boomed through the house. “Anthony Wallington! What a pleasure. It’s never too late for you to intrude.” Moments later the two men walked into the dining room. “Look who the wind deposited on our doorstep.”
A flurry of greetings was exchanged through the room. Jeremy pulled up an additional chair as everyone scooted closer together to make room for Anthony.
Carrie was not surprised when Jeremy placed the chair beside her, and she made no effort to conceal her delight when she turned to greet him. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise,” she said warmly. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit? I thought you had sworn off Philadelphia during the winter time.”
“I did,” Anthony assured her, “until Abby received a telegram from Dorothea Dix this morning that revealed she had gotten you into the asylum, but that you would have to be in there by yourself.”
Carrie felt a surge of joyful hope, but waited to hear the rest of his announcement.
“She and I decided you should at least have someone to accompany you, and since we couldn’t be certain Michael Stratford would be free, we decided it would be me.” Anthony’s eyes shone with satisfaction.
“You did, did you?” Carrie asked, hoping her voice did not reveal how thrilled she was. She had not resisted Anthony’s declaration that he was going to court her, but Marietta was the only person in the room she had spoken with about it. She could feel Janie’s eyes on her, but she refused to meet them. Carrie loved Anthony Wallington, but she was no closer to wanting to marry him than she had been when she left Richmond a month ago.
“I left the house immediately and caught the first train,” Anthony continued. “I just arrived.”
“You must be tired,” Carrie said.
“Not particularly,” Anthony replied, his sparkling eyes revealing much more than his words.
Carrie blushed and looked away, determined to do something that would take everyone’s attention away from her. She finally looked at Janie. “I believe you were about to make an important announcement. I’m dying to know what it is,” she said brightly.
Janie’s eyes bored into her with the promise they would have a long conversation soon, and then her face lit with a fierce pride. Matthew looked down at the last crumbs of his chess pie as she pulled out a book and held it up for everyone to see. “Matthew’s book, Glimmers of Change, has been released!”
Cries of congratulations and excitement rang through the room.
“That’s incredible!” Carrie cried. “Let me see it,” she demanded.
Janie grinned and handed it to her, but Marietta snatched it out of the air. “My dinner party,” she said smugly as she caressed the cover of the book. “I get to see it first.”
“You only brought one copy?” Carrie complained. “You knew we would all want to see it.”
Matthew was laughing now. “It’s just come off the press. It’s not even in the bookstores yet. Be grateful I was able to spirit away the one copy.”
“His publisher said they had already had an impressive number of pre-orders,” Janie boasted. “They believe it will be a bestseller.”
“Of course it will be a bestseller,” Carrie said matter-of-factly, her eyes fastened on the book longingly. “Our country needs the hope these stories can bring. All we hear is the bad news. It’s beyond time someone told the good stories.” She looked at Matthew. “I’m so proud of you, Matthew. Does Harold know?”
“I sent him a telegram,” Matthew assured her. “I also wrangled a copy for him that is now in the mail.”
“You can’t hog it to yourself, Marietta,” Carrie said with mock sternness. “You at least have to read something from it.”
Marietta smirked at her and riffled through the pages. Her eyes widened when she got to a section about halfway through the book. She stopped, scanned the page, and looked up. “All of you have to hear this one,” she breathed. “I had no idea this kind of thing happened during the war. Listen…”
Man or Woman?
Stephanie was just sixteen when war exploded through the country. Orphaned at the age of ten, she had only her brother, Seamus, who was one year older, for family. Somehow, the two children managed to survive, and through endless hard work, they purchased a small farm in the mountains of Georgia the year before the war began.
Small and delicate, Stephanie worked as hard as her brother to create a life for themselves. Slowly, but surely, they began to carve a living from the land they had purchased. The days were endless, but the satisfaction, and the beauty of their farm, made it all worthwhile. The two were certain they were beginning a new chapter of their life that would give them great joy.
They made plans for an additional house on the land, so that even when they both married, they would have a home, and they would remain close for all their lives. Everything was going according to plan until…
Until the first shots were fired on Fort Sumter.
Suddenly all their dreams were disrupted as the cry went up for loyal Southerners to bear arms for the new Confederacy. Stephanie will never forget the day when Seamus returned home from a trip into the nearest town.
“I got to fight,” Seamus said grimly.
“No!” Stephanie cried. “You can’t leave. We’ve just begun to create the farm. What will I do without you?” Having no idea of the reality of the war, it never crossed her mind that something bad could happen to her brother. She just knew the idea of staying alone on the farm was unbearable, but she also knew, even before she spoke, what Seamus would do. She had seen that look on his face so many times—the look that said he was determined to take a course of action he believed was right.
“I got to go, Stephanie,” Seamus said. “The South is at war.”
“About what?” Stephanie cried. “Who are we fighting?”
Seamus frowned then. “I don’t know that I rightly understand it. What they be saying is that the Northern part of the country is trying to tell all of us in the South how we done got to live. They told me they are gonna come down here and destroy all our farms and kill us.”
“Why?” Stephanie gasped. “Mama always told us she emigrated from Ireland because America was a free country where folks had a chance for a good life.”
“I know,” Seamus agreed heavily, “but it seems it ain’t that way anymore. Anyway,” he continued in the firm voice she knew so well, “I got to fight to save our land. All the guys are going. I have to.” He forced a smile. “But don’t feel too bad. It ain’t gonna be much of a fight, they say. I figure I’ll only be gone a month or two. We’ve already plowed all the fields, and I ain’t leaving until next week. We’ll go ahead and plant everything, and then I’ll be home in plenty of time for most of the work and the harvest.”
Stephanie listened quietly, and then went off for a walk in the woods. The next morning, she informed her brother there was no reason to plant the fields because she would not be there to tend them.
“What are you talking about?” Seamus asked with astonishment.
“I won’t be here,” Stephanie said stubbornly.
“Where are you planning on being? We need you to stay here on the farm.”
Stephanie shook her head. “I ain’t staying here all by myself.” She hated the tears that filled her eyes, but she dashed them away. “I’m going with you.”
Seamus stared at her, and then started laughing. “You can’t go with me, Stephanie. I’m going to war. They only let men fight in a war.”
“I know,” Stephanie said, fighting the fear threatening to engulf her. “I’m gonna dress up as a man and go fight with you. You said the war should only last a month or so. We’ll go together, and we’ll com
e home together.”
“You’re crazy!” Seamus shouted as he glared at her. “I won’t let you do it.”
Stephanie’s Irish temper flared. “I’d like to see you stop me!” she yelled back.
In the end, Stephanie had her way. She cut off all her hair, rubbed dirt on her face and nails to attempt to cover her delicate features, and enlisted in the army. Whether she was that convincing, or simply because the South was desperate for recruits, she was accepted with her brother into a company from Georgia.
As everyone knows, the war did not end in a month or two. As the fighting stretched out, Stephanie had no choice but to continue her masquerade as a man. She fought hard. She worked hard. And she did whatever it took to hide her true identity.
And then disaster struck.
In May of 1864, Seamus died during the horrific Battle of the Wilderness. He had been wounded, but very possibly could have been saved if his fellow soldiers could have reached him. With the flames of fire licking toward him, and after hearing the screams of other soldiers consumed by the flames, Seamus shot himself to avoid the same horror.
Stephanie was watching.
She tried to reach her brother, but she had been shot herself. Losing consciousness was a blessing. Now she hoped for death.
Instead of death, Stephanie ended up in a Confederate hospital. When she regained consciousness, she was horrified to discover she was scheduled for surgery that afternoon to try to save her arm from the infection ravaging it from the bullet wound.
She would sooner lose her arm than have her true identity revealed.
Her salvation came in the form of a Confederate nurse who took pity on her when she learned the truth. Instead of judging and condemning her, she managed to spirit Stephanie (known for the last three years as Stephen) out of the hospital and into her private home.
Stephanie was nursed back to health, but perhaps of equal importance, she was taught to read, and she was accepted for who she was.
When her recovery was complete, instead of deserting the army or reverting back to female, she chose to return to the fight. Part of the reason was that she didn’t know any other way to live by this time. The bigger reason was that living as a man had taught her how limiting it was to live as a woman. She would rather risk her life than lose the freedom of being a man, even one who had to be a soldier.
Stephanie died during the long march from Richmond to Appomattox.
You may be asking how such a tale came to be included in a book filled with stories of supposed hope. So now I’ll tell you the rest of the story…
Stephanie did not die. Amid all the confusion surrounding the end of the war, it was reported that she…well, he…had died. Stephen Cummings was listed as a casualty of war.
When Stephanie discovered this fact, she decided it was a blessing. She had no family to return to. There was no one waiting for her. Because their farm was in the path of Sherman’s March across Georgia, she knew there was nothing to go back to. And now that Seamus was gone, she had no desire to return to farming on her own.
Secure in her identity as a man, Stephen Cummings headed north. Armed with a sharp mind, and with his ability to read, Stephen secured employment in a factory. It wasn’t long before his abilities and hard work made him stand out. He has moved to a few jobs, advancing every time.
As of this writing, Stephen Cummings has a secure, well-paid position. He is happy in his identity as a man, and has no intention of changing.
Questioned as to whether he misses the potential of marriage and children if he were to revert to being a woman, he is quick to assure me he does not. While he admits it can be lonely at times, he has no interest in returning to the limited freedoms that American women are granted. He has the right to vote, he is allowed to own his own business, and he is free to make decisions for his own life—all things that women, especially married women, are not allowed to do.
He has chosen the life he wants for himself, and has found happiness. I believe that reality should give us all hope.
Marietta looked up. “There is a postscript to this story,” she breathed.
Since this interview, I have discovered there were hundreds of women who served as men in the military. Stephanie was certainly not the only one. These women served for many reasons. I hope the time will come when all their stories will be told.
*****
Silence filled the room when Marietta finished reading. Carrie wasn’t quite sure how she should respond, but she needed to say something. She had been watching George carefully through the whole reading, but had done her best to not make it obvious. She had seen him stiffen when Marietta began reading, but other than that, he had shown no emotion.
“That’s incredible,” Marietta said, holding the book in her hand and staring down at the pages she had read.
Carrie and Janie exchanged a brief look.
“That’s one of my favorite stories,” Janie confided. “I can only imagine the courage it took to conceal your identity to fight in a war you didn’t have to fight in.”
“Courage or insanity,” Anthony said flatly. “She watched her brother die and still went back to fight?” His brows drew together as his lips thinned.
Carrie watched him closely. She was curious as to how he would respond. Robert had never discovered the truth about Georgia, now George. She didn’t know how he would have reacted if he had discovered one of the men in his unit was actually a woman. George had begged her not to tell, and Carrie had conceded. She respected George’s wish for his secret never to be known, and she knew the biggest courage had been exhibited when he agreed to tell his story to Matthew for his book.
Anthony remained silent for a moment before continuing. “I think perhaps this story, more than any I have ever heard, tells me how horrible life is for women in America,” he said thoughtfully. “When a woman would choose to give up the chance to ever marry or have a family, simply because it is so difficult to be female, there is something terribly wrong.”
Carrie bit back her sigh of relief. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m fighting for the right of women to vote, but until Alice, I didn’t truly understand how the rights of women are being trampled on. To be considered nothing more than property once you are married is wrong on every level.”
Anthony met her flaming eyes. “It should make one very careful whom they marry,” he acknowledged.
“It’s not only husbands that make it easy for women to end up in insane asylums,” George stated quietly.
Carrie turned to him, eager to escape the challenge in Anthony’s eyes. She was not willing to think about marriage. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been doing some reading since I found out about your friend Alice,” George replied. “I suspected we would talk about Alice at some point tonight so I brought something to read to all of you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He carefully unfolded it and spread it out on the table. “This is a list of reasons women can be admitted to an insane asylum. It was put together by medical doctors,” he said grimly. He looked down and began to read:
Intemperance and Business Trouble
Kicked in the Head by a Horse
Ill Treatment by Husband
Hysteria
Immoral Life
Jealousy and Religion
Laziness
Marriage of Son
Masturbation for Thirty Years
Novel Reading
Overaction of the Mind
Parents Were Cousins
Religious Enthusiasm
Politics
Death of Sons in War
Desertion by Husband
Excessive Sexual Abuse
Suppressed Masturbation
Time of Life
Superstition
Small Pox
Grief
Hard Study
Feebleness of Intellect
Female Disease
George stopped reading and refolded the paper. Then he look
ed up and waited for everyone’s response.
Carrie stared at him. “That’s real?” she asked with disbelief.
“It’s real,” George assured her. “There are actually one hundred and twenty-five reasons, but I decided not to read them all. The list is quite extensive.”
“Dear God…” Marietta muttered. “Every woman in this room qualifies for an insane asylum,” she added in a shocked voice.
“I rest my case,” Anthony said harshly. “If I had been Stephanie, I would have chosen to live as Stephen, too.”
“I would have made the same choice,” George agreed.
Carrie registered his comment, but was still too stunned by what George had read to appreciate the humor of the moment.
“How is this possible?” Janie demanded. She shuddered visibly. “Just how many women are locked into asylums who have no reason to be there?”
“Thousands of them,” Matthew stated, his voice tight with anger.
Silence fell on the room again as everyone considered what they had heard.
“Why?” Everyone turned to look at Marietta. Her eyes were blazing, and her face was tight with fury. “Why do men believe they have the right to control women in this way? Why do they believe women should have no voice?” She stared around the table, raking Jeremy, Matthew, Anthony, and George with her fiery gaze. “Why?”
Carrie wondered which of them would have the courage to address the question, but she wanted to know the answer as much as Marietta did. “It’s a fair question,” she added. “Why?”
Chapter Fifteen
Matthew was the first to respond. “I agree that it’s a fair question, and I have thought about this a great deal since I began the research for my articles,” he said. “My career as a journalist has introduced me to many very intelligent, accomplished women, beginning with Abby. I was raised to believe men were always supposed to be in control, because women could not take care of themselves, but my experiences have taught me that’s not true.” He paused, obviously being careful to think through his words before he spoke them. “I believe men have been taught that if women win, men lose. They are afraid of being powerless, so they work to subjugate women to make themselves feel stronger.”
