How the Civil War changed Boston

In the long run, for example, the Civil War would do much to mitigate the hostile attitude of native-born Bostonians toward Irish Catholic immigrants. Less than a decade before the outbreak of war, the so-called Know-Nothings had taken over the state government, determined to save Massachusetts from what one politician called the “insidious wiles of foreigners.” The party called for an end to further immigration, denounced Catholics as untrustworthy, and promised an end to “Rome, rum, and robbery.”

Yet, tens of thousands of Irish fought to preserve the Union, and their displays of courage at battles such as Gettysburg won them a measure of respect that would allow them to participate more fully in the social and political life of the city. Before the war, few Bostonians would have ever thought that possible.

The conflict also unexpectedly raised the status of Boston women. Lacking sufficient manpower to deal with the complexities of its greatest war, the North was forced to turn to womanpower. Instead of staying home to darn socks and roll bandages, as they had in past conflicts, women were called upon to care for the wounded on the battlefields and to take on managerial positions behind the lines.

In organizations such as the US Sanitary Commission, for which Louisa May Alcott volunteered as a nurse, it was women who set budgets, consulted with members of Congress, and argued with bureaucrats. After the war, colleges such as Vassar and Smith were founded to provide women with the kind of education previously available only to their fathers, brothers, and husbands.

It is one of history’s great ironies, though, that the Civil War delivered so few substantial results for Boston’s African-Americans after raising such high expectations. During the first two years of war, blacks were not even allowed to join a fight that was, at least in part, for their independence.