According to Drew Gilpin Faust, writing about and researching the “history of elites” is a topic that lately has not been considered “fashionable,” but one she takes interest in with her book Mothers of Invention: Women of the Slaveholding South in the American Civil War. In Drew’s estimation, the Civil War changed the roles of white women, particularly elite white women, in society. The war altered what kind of work they did, how their marriages functioned, and what they expected of themselves. In her epilogue, Faust connects the changes wrought by the Civil War to the impending “feminist” movement in the South, one that was tied to shared “white unity” with white men.
Faust has a very engaging style because of how heavily she incorporates the writings of Southern women. The mass of diaries, letters, and reports they wrote were clearly instrumental in writing this book, and it would not have been the same without them. Being able to directly reference their deepest thoughts makes it much easier to understand what was going on at the time – though in the back of my mind I could never forget that most of them were slaveholders, and almost assuredly all of them were horribly racist.
Despite the heavy use of good source material though, there are two issues with how Faust supports her argument. First, she seems to have trouble letting the sources speak for themselves. She seems unable to present crucial evidence without saying how “tellingly” or “revealingly” the women are writing. Her interpretation vacillates between too heavy-handed and rather oblivious. At times, therefore, she even contradicts herself, and that is my second issue with the book.
Faust does not always pay attention to the evidence itself. She spends an entire section in Chapter Six writing about the homoerotic relationships between young girls in the South, using primary evidence that in any other context would be considered very romantic and sexual. Quotes like “I dreamed the other night, dear, and I actually thought myself kissing you – when I awoke to find it all an idle dream,” or “I encircled her waist with my own arm, and thought ‘Oh, if her heart could only reciprocate the love which mine could yield to her,’” – these read immediately as romantic relationships. Yet Faust dismisses them out of hand, saying that at the time “such expressions represented a sensitivity and authenticity of feeling celebrated in this sentimental mid-Victorian era as appropriate to true friendship as much as true love.” Why could both not exist simultaneously? All the evidence Faust presents up to that point seems to say bisexual and lesbian relationships were alive and well, which is an interesting part of history we rarely see (no doubt in part due to the erasure those groups receive in society today). Faust seems to contradict herself in then saying these explicitly erotic dreams and actions between women were nothing more than friendship.
Similarly, it becomes difficult to follow or take seriously Faust’s argument when she flip flops between her arguments regarding working women. First she spends nearly a whole chapter (Chapter Four) writing about how elite, white women went to work, particularly in hospitals. She evidences many letters and diary entries about women unexpectedly taking on this dirty work, and even implicitly praises them for it. (Faust’s seeming admiration for these white women of the South is something I also take issue with, but there’s not enough space here to address it.) But toward the end of the chapter, she suddenly changes her stance and says “Serious, committed, long-term hospital work remained the domain of these exceptional women.” And, she adds, “For all their undeniable and important contributions, it was not the Confederacy’s ladies but its African Americans who cared for the South’s fallen heroes.” Why not focus more on them, then? Even something more than this tiny, incidental mention at the end of the chapter would have added immensely to whatever she is trying to say.
Again and again this happens, with Faust undecided or conflicted on what she is trying to say. In Chapter Five, she writes extensively and movingly about how the separation of husbands and wives served to strengthen their relationships, making the wives both more independent, and causing both to be more appreciative of each other (as war tends to do). Abruptly toward the end of the chapter though, she suddenly takes a totally different tact, saying, “wives desperately missed the emotional and material support they had taken for granted as their husbands’ obligations.”
In terms of evidence, Faust works with an amazing number of primary sources (in the realm of 500 women, she says), and it shows. The interpretation is severely lacking, though. Faust herself does not seem to know what she wants to say, or what the women themselves felt. And though people are complex, and there certainly may have been a variety of attitudes, the book is worse off for it when Faust simultaneously builds and then destroys her own arguments. I do agree with Faust's initial argument, but the way she attempts to prove it is too roundabout to be effective.