Zeb Larson reviews Rebels #7…
Rebels #7 offers a one-issue look at the folk legend of Molly Pitcher but through a completely fictional woman, Sarah Hull. Pitcher is a legend or composite tale of a woman who served in battle, her name likely because of her role as a pitcher-bearer of water. In discussing Hull, Wood can explore a few different trends in American history: the willful invisibility of women in “official” history, and the rhetorical treatment of veterans versus the actual treatment of veterans. This issue is also an interesting example of how legends are constructed, and why.
Wood uses a familiar format from the first few issues having a character in the future narrate the action as a memoir or reminiscence, in this case from Sarah’s husband Sam. Sarah is an unusual woman for the period in that she refuses to accept “direction” from a man, which Sam has simply accepted as what makes his wife extraordinary. Part of that comes out when Sarah finds herself under fire. Yet, as much as her husband can understand her bravery, other people may hesitate to believe her or really appreciate what she did.
There are a few interesting and enjoyable things about this issue. The relationship between Sam and Sarah is a genuinely sweet one, in no small part because Sam treats his wife as an equal. Beyond their dynamic, Sarah Hull’s story speaks to the general invisibility of women. The officer who comes to visit in Sarah in 1802 might assure her that the country’s independence was owed to the women as well as the men, but the reality is that women did not enjoy the same degree of respect. This is true at the literal level: the officers won’t give Sarah a pension because it would mean recognizing all women.
Yet even at the level of representation, women quickly became invisible. You can get individual heroes and patriots who will be celebrated: Betsy Ross, Hannah White Arnett, or Abigail Adams. Yet it’s always at the individual level, and there’s something about them that makes them “extraordinary.” That implicitly suggests that the other women who served were somehow of less interest and not worth studying. It made it very easy to simply forget their contributions, even though those contributions were the difficult, thankless tasks that make armies work. Sarah’s iciness with the visiting officers is her way of reminding them that by denying pensions to her and everybody else, they’re denying their service. Consider that the Daughters of the American Revolution wasn’t formed 1891, and only after the Sons refused to let them join.
At another level, the book showcases the cynicism in how veterans are treated. The rhetoric will be as celebratory and lionizing as possible, emphasizing the moral responsibility of the state to reward men who fought and suffered on its behalf. Yet that’s counterbalanced by its stinginess with pensions, and the stinginess was real. Even for male veterans, there were letters and petitions that had to be written because the government feared fraud, and in many cases after 1812 soldiers had to affirm that they were in “reduced circumstances” to be eligible. This made it difficult for many men to receive pensions, especially since admitting to indigence was a blow to their pride. In essence, one might receive considerable status as a veteran of the war, but there was no guarantee that the promises made to you by the government would stand in good faith.
So, what are legends good for? Molly Pitcher’s anonymity is powerful, because it’s a reminder that there were many Molly Pitchers who served during the war. When history fails, folk tales might have to fill the gap. Wood reworks that tale to good use here. Cheers.
Rating: 9.4/10
Zeb Larson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?list=PL18yMRIfoszEaHYNDTy5C-cH9Oa2gN5ng&v=C_zu6XuI_g4
Originally published October 16, 2015. Updated April 14, 2018.
