Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862

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Corn Silk Days: Iowa, 1862 Page 27

by Linda Pendleton


  “Guess they need a little pleasure, huh?” Madeline commented.

  Elizabeth Jane nodded. “I would suppose so. I didn’t tell Silas the real reason I joined was more than abstinence from liquor. I really like the Templer’s stand on equality for women, and the sense of brotherhood for all.”

  Lucinda replied, “Me, too. That political rally you went to in Peoria changed your thinking on a lot of things, didn’t it?”

  Elizabeth Jane nodded. “Yes, it did, especially on women’s suffrage. I see now why Silas was always so passionate about politics. When I heard Jane Hunt, and especially Amelia Bloomer, speak on women’s suffrage that did it for me. I had read some of Amelia’s writings on women’s rights but to actually hear her words it was exciting. Have either of you read her writing “Golden Rules for Wives?”

  “No, but I heard about it,” Lucinda said.

  “Well, listen to this.” Elizabeth Jane pulled a paper, The Lily, from the stack sitting in front of her at the table and began to read aloud:

  Faugh, on such twaddle! ‘Golden rules for wives’—’duty of wives’—how sick we are at the sight of such paragraphs! Why don’t our wise editors give us now and then some ‘golden rules’ for husbands, by the way of variety? Why not tell us of the promises men make at the altar, and of the injunction ‘Husbands, love your wives as your own selves’? ‘Implicit submission of a man to his wife is disgraceful to both, but implicit obedience of the wife to the will of the husband is what she promised at the altar.’ So you say! What nonsense! What absurdity! What downright injustice! A disgrace for a man to yield to the wishes of his wife, but an honor for a wife to yield implicit obedience to the commands of her husband, be he good or bad, just or unjust, a kind husband or a tyrannical master! Oh! How much of sorrow, of shame and unhappiness have such teachings occasioned. Master and slave! Such they make the relationship existing between husband and wife; and oh, how fearfully has woman been made to feel that he who promised at the altar to love, cherish and protect her is but a legalized master and tyrant! We deny that it is any more her duty to make her husband’s happiness her study than it is his business to study her happiness. We deny that it is a woman’s duty to love and obey her husband, unless he prove himself worthy of her love and unless his requirements are just and reasonable. Marriage is a union of two intelligent, immortal beings in a life partnership, in which each should study the pleasure and the happiness of the other and they should mutually share the joys and bear the burdens of life.

  Madeline applauded and said, “Good for her. I’ve been married to a tyrant and I know how bad it can be. Maybe I was lucky though that he never beat me.”

  “Well, I can talk about that. I’ve been there,” Lucinda said. “So rather than focusing on alcohol abstinence you intend to focus on women’s suffrage?”

  “I sure am. Women need rights, all rights. We need to be able to vote. Even though our state legislature fiddles around with it now and then we need to get it right. And if it takes us women to do it then so be it.”

  Madeline said, “Amen.”

  Elizabeth Jane went through her papers again and pulled another one from the stack. “I recently read this about the Seneca Falls Convention ten years ago in New York. Elizabeth Cady Stanton made her first major address to the New York legislature on behalf of a bill about divorce and women’s property rights. And the New York legislature passed a bill giving married women rights to their own wages and guardianship of their children. Isn’t that great? She’s been busy ever since, working on ending slavery with people like Lucretia Mott, Susan Anthony, Frederick Douglass, and others.”

  Madeline said, “Then there is the Negro woman, Sojourner Truth who has been working with the government in Washington and in Virginia with the free slaves. She is very outspoken on women’s rights and slavery. Have you read about her, Janie?”

  “Yes, I’ve read about her. I think it’s exciting that women and some men are taking action to give us the vote, to make things equal, and to give the Negro their freedom. So that is why I decided to join the Templers to see what I can do for those causes.”

  “Maybe I’ll think about joining,” Madeline said. “I’ve been thinking about it, and now hearing all your enthusiasm, Janie, maybe I will next month.”

  “I hope so. That would be great. I want to plan a platform for the Fourth of July at the town picnic,” Elizabeth Jane said. “How do you think that will go over?”

  Lucinda laughed. “You know how it will be. As long as you give Mayor Hampton his time for his boring, boring speech, it will probably be just fine. Oh, they’ll be a few who will complain but let them go for a walk to the outhouse at the time of your doings.”

  Elizabeth Jane laughed, enjoying Lucinda’s humor. She said, “What I would like to do that day is concentrate on women’s suffrage and other rights of equality. Maybe Pap will want to make a speech about slavery and the Union cause. He’s good at that.”

  Sadie spoke up, “I be making some pies for the 4th celebration. Is that right, Miss’s Madeline?”

  Chapter Forty-nine: Saturday, the 30th Day of July 1864

  St. Charles Arkansas

  Dear beloved wife,

  It is again I take the opportunity of writing you a few lines which will be in answer to two of your letters. I am well at present and I sincerely hope this finds all of you well and healthy. I was glad to hear that you enjoyed the 4th of July very much and saw many great things that were pleasing to you. I wish I had been there to hear you stand up and talk about suffrage and women’s rights to come in the future times. The 4th of July calls to mind the many brave boys who have lost their lives and the great many to be lost yet to this world. I suppose you’ve seen those glorious stars and stripes and the proud eagle flying in the air and to then think that traitors are trying to trample it under foot and to make the eagle hit the dust. But the proud bird still keeps flying and begs them to come back and take shelter under her wings and claim protection of the government. But the traitors’ answer is ‘no we will trample you underfoot and make you give us our independence.’ Why is it enough to make the stoutest heart quake to look on the Nation’s banner and then to think that it must be cursed by such miserable traitors who inhabits our once peaceful but now distracted land? I cannot see how Copperheads can bear to look on the emblem of freedom and claim protection and at the same time assisting the South in every way they can to encourage them to go on with their vile corruption. I cannot see what they mean to stay where they are and claim protection of the government and at the same time their heart and hand is with the South. If I lived North and wanted to see the South victorious I would go down South and take a gun. I be a man or a mouse or a long tailed rat.

  Well Jane, you may think I am pretty hard. So I am and I cannot help but inducements have been given them. They could have come back and saved themselves and their country from ruin which it is doing very fast. I believe in treating them very harsh until they come to some kind of terms. We have had the news in the Memphis Bulletin that the Rebels had sent peace commissioners to Washington purposing terms of peace. They proposed to come back in the Union providing the United States would pay the debt of both parties and they should keep what Negroes they have and the balance go free. Now if they consider just the North should pay the whole debt then I am opposed to that but if they would come back and pay their proportion I have nothing to say.

  I am always anxious for the mail boat to come and then when the mail comes to the captain’s office and he begins to call over the names the boys will all huddle around him to hear if he calls their names for letters from their loved ones left behind. If my name is called the thought strikes me that the letter is from one I so much love and nine times out of ten if I get but one letter it is written by you and in a short time I know what is in the letter.

  I was sorry to hear that the chintz bugs had injured the wheat so much but I presume there will be wheat enough raised to do the people, and with some to spare.


  We have had four men die in the regiment since we left Vicksburg. Two of them were recruits. The health of the regiment is good at present.

  I did not get this mailed and it is now days later, this being the 8th. Last night we arrived at White River Landing. We will stay but a short time. We left St. Charles and went aboard the White Cloud. From what I can learn we will be going to Morganzia Bend.

  Well Jane, I asked you about the Lincoln nomination and you did not answer my question at all. I think from your writing that you do not like it yourself.

  Tell Denny to be a good boy and learn as fast as he can and his Pap will bring him a new book when he comes home.

  I must close now as we have to get off the boat so as it can be cleaned and washed. I will write you when I get to our journey end if nothing happens.

  Your loving husband,

  Silas

  Chapter Fifty: Michael and His Sons

  “I’ve decided to leave the area and go to Ohio.”

  Michael looked at his son, Benjamin, the lines on his forehead settling into a frown. “Why is that?” he asked. “You been drinking again, or maybe been fooling around with some woman and made her pregnant.”

  Benjamin’s tone was rather civil in spite of his anger at his father’s comments. “What’d you mean by that?”

  Michael continued to stack the pine lodge poles, ignoring Benjamin’s question.

  “Your comment is really out of line,” Benjamin said.

  Michael glanced across the stack of wood. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re standing around doing nothing around here most of the time.”

  Benjamin’s anger was building. He ran his hand through his hair, about ready to turn and walk away, but something held him there; a need to confront and get it out in the open. Too many years of putting up with his father’s ridicule and scorn.

  “You very damn well could be the reason I’m leaving. I’m tired of the way you treat me, the way you’ve always treated me. I’ve worked my butt off around here for you and then what kind of thanks do I get?”

  “Thanks? Thanks for what? Thanks for causing your mother and me worry?”

  “You’re impossible. It never changes does it? And you’re a liar and sneak, Dad. You ask me about my drinking and you’re the one who has a bottle hidden in your office. Seems I gave it up and you picked it up.”

  Michael’s eyes darkened dangerously and for a moment Benjamin thought he might be the target of the next lodge pole to be thrown onto the stack.

  But he was not. Michael dropped the pole down hard and turned to pick up another. “Maybe it best you do move on,” he said, his eyes averted from his son.

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You never wanted me around, admit it. I was never good enough for you, never good enough as Silas, never cute enough as Henry, never—”

  At the mention of his son, Silas, and his deceased son, Henry, Michael stood up stiff, and moved in a flash toward his son, grabbing Benjamin by the shirt at his chest. “Don’t you ever, ever say that about Henry again! You hear me!” He was in a rage and Benjamin grabbed his wrists trying to loosen his shirt from his father’s hands but Michael shoved him backward, throwing him into another wood stack as he let go.

  The impact knocked the wind from Benjamin for a moment and then his fury took over as he got up and went after his father, but Michael saw him coming and threw his fist into Benjamin’s face, knocking him again to the ground. As he hit the ground he grabbed Michael’s foot bringing him down onto his buttocks.

  Benjamin struggled to stand, realized his face was moist, and wiped his hand across and saw blood. And when he saw blood, in that same moment, he saw something else that he understood for the first time.

  He swung at his father, hitting him in the shoulder knocking him off balance and into the wood stack. But Michael wasn’t giving up. He came at Benjamin again. Benjamin grabbed him by both shoulders and held him at bay. He looked him directly in the eyes and said, “It’s Henry, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve hated me! It’s Henry!”

  “Damn you! Stop it, stop it,” Michael yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t say his name! Damn you!”

  Benjamin’s mind went back to that day years ago when he was playing with his younger brother, Henry, chasing him and then having fun in the old pond. And then it all ended as Henry disappeared under water and Benjamin yelled out, then dove into the water frantically trying to find his little brother in the murky water. He dove down, again and again, and then he knew it was too late. His father, Michael, had also jumped into the water, and he found Henry, pulled his limp body to shore, but the life force had left the young boy. It was a day Benjamin never wanted to remember, but obviously a day his father had never forgotten.

  And again like that day years ago, Michael dropped to his knees in defeat, sobs quaking his body, as he surrendered to the intense pain he had carried with him for a long time. He cried out in anguish, “Dear Lord, forgive me ... forgive me!”

  Benjamin stood over him, and for only a moment he felt victory, but his anger drained away and was quickly replaced by compassion. He reached out and put his hand on his father’s shoulder. He remained silent as he allowed his father his grief.

  Chapter Fifty-one: Choices

  Alexander was first to rise from the supper table. He said, “Catherine, thank you for a scrumptious supper. If you ladies excuse me I will go out to the porch for a smoke.”

  Catherine smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Alex. We’ll have dessert in a bit. You men just go out and relax. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  “Good enough,” he replied.

  Daniel stood up and pushed his chair under the table as he said to William, “Let’s join Alexander and enjoy the summer evening cool down.”

  The three men went out to the porch leaving Catherine, Madeline, and Sadie to clean up supper dishes, but not before William also thanked Catherine for a great meal.

  The hot August sun was lowering on the horizon and the welcome early evening breeze had arrived.

  William said, “This summer heat has not been to my liking.”

  Alexander, striking a match over the bowl of his pipe, puffed a few times then said, “You miss Virginia, William?”

  “Not really, I like it here. And if this is where Madeline wants to be, then it is where I want to be.”

  Alexander laughed and looked at Daniel. “Hey Dan, it sounds like the officer here loves your daughter.”

  Daniel chuckled. “I’m getting that idea” he said.

  Alexander had a thoughtful look.

  Daniel asked, “What’s on your mind, Alex?”

  “I was talking with Elizabeth Jane the other day and she told me Silas had asked what we thought about Mr. Lincoln and the nomination. He’s all for it and wondered what all of us felt.”

  Daniel said, “I’m all for it. Let’s keep Abe in there. It would be bad news to have General McClellan beat out our President. The Democrats have their anti-war platform promising to end the war and negotiate with the Confederacy, but hell, who can trust George McClellan. News has it that Lincoln didn’t even trust him as a leader and relieved him of duty. That says a lot about the man.”

  Alexander spoke up. “Well the General is not a good choice to lead the Union but he sure as hells bells is better than that damn Copperhead martyr Clement Vallandigham. He should’ve stayed in Canada or in prison. His peace plank was a bunch of bullshit at the Convention there in Chicago and it’s a good thing some of those Dems had some good sense to keep him out of the runnin’.”

  “You said it, Alex. That would’ve been big trouble if he got the nomination over General McClellan,” William commented.

  Alexander nodded. “Sure thing. I ain’t worried though, as I think Mr. Lincoln will walk away with the election come fall. Then the war should come to an end before long. I suppose I should pen Silas a few words and let him know my thoughts on Mr. Lincoln, beings he’s interested.”

  “Where�
�s Silas at about now?” William asked.

  “Last I knew he was in Louisiana,” Alexander offered. “Any news of James, Daniel?”

  “Haven’t heard much from him but I think last we did hear he was somewhere in Georgia,” Daniel replied. “His mother gets nervous when time goes by and no letters.”

  William said, “He’s probably working at taking Atlanta down.”

  Alexander asked, “Think they’ll do it.”

  “The odds are pretty good the Union will do it before long,” William replied.

  Alexander told them, “Silas wrote me about the traitor that was shot in front of about five thousand troops, two batteries and some cavalry. He had heard they were gonna march out to see him shot to death. The man was from the Ohio 32nd, deserted the Union army at Shiloh and went to the Rebs and gave them all the information he could, concerning the Union. Silas heard he’d married a Rebel major’s daughter and he gave him twenty-five thousand dollars. Some say he was captured bushwhacking and others said he was enlisted as a teamster for the Union and was smuggling ammunition to the Rebels.”

  “He’s not the first traitor shot,” William said.

  Alexander nodded and replied, “And not the last. But Silas said though the man had five different bounties from the U.S. and deserved it, he said he never wanted to see a man executed again.”

  Daniel commented, “Well, the generals figure it’s a lesson for the boys, to show them that being a traitor to the Union don’t pay.” Then he glanced at William and his voice was almost apologetic as he added, “Didn’t mean to imply that ‘cause you deserted or that my daughter was a traitor to the Confederates and arrested ... uh...damn ....” The terrorizing reality washed over him. He was thoughtful a moment and then said, “I hadn’t thought about the extreme danger she had been in, both of you, and Sadie, too. Thank the Lord you made it out of Virginia and brought our daughter home to us.” He looked away from William, his eyes moist. “I will always be grateful, William,” he said with quiet emphasis.

 

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