Christmas in their Own Words

Christmas in the Confederate White House by Varina Davis

A snippet:

"At last quiet settled on the household and the older members of the family began to stuff stockings with molasses candy, red apples, an orange, small whips plaited by the family with high-colored crackers, worsted reins knitted at home, paper dolls, teetotums made of large horn bottoms and a match which could spin indefinitely, balls of worsted rags wound hard and covered with old kid gloves, a pair of pretty woolen gloves for each, either cut of cloth and embroidered on the back or knitted by some deft hand out of home-spun wool. For the President there were a pair of chamois-skin riding gauntlets exquisitely embroidered on the back with his monogram in red and white silk, made, as the giver wrote, under the guns of Fortress Monroe late at night for fear of discovery. There was a hemstitched linen handkerchief, with a little sketch in indelible ink in one corner; the children had written him little letters, their grandmother having held their hands, the burthen of which compositions was how they loved their dear father. "


Thanks to @donna , originally posted here on the forum.

Thanks, Lori Ann and donna. Somehow, I just love reading about their Christmases--as spoken by the women themselves.
 
Wonderful posts! I hurried through the later ones but am so eager to come back to them and read more thoroughly. Note to self: I really MUST get Mary Boykin Chesnut's Diary.
But, as I sit here, getting ready to have my fancy machine brewed coffee, while I make a dozen Christmas gifts for the ladies in my quilting club, before I put up my store bought Christmas tree, Judith McGuire's words haunt me.
Shared feelings of sadness and beauty, loss and hope. Very thankful for all of these diaries!
 
Sally Brock Putnam describes the purchase of toys for children as things in the Confederacy grown more dire.

CHRISTMAS, 1864 OPENING OF THE NEW YEAB.

ANOTHER annual revolution in the cycle of time brought us again to the Christmas season, the third since the bloody cu'cle of war had been drawn round our hearts and homes. For days preceding the festival the anxious little ones, who had learned to share the cares and troubles of their elders, peered curiously into the countenances of mothers and fathers, for an intimation that good old Santa Klaus had not lost his bravery, and that 'despite the long continued storm of war, he would make his way through the fleet at Charleston or the blockading squadron at "Wilmington, and from foreign countries, or perchance across the counti'y from Baltimore, he would pick his way, flank the numerous pickets on the lines, and bring something to drop in their new stockings, knitted by mother herself. Sometimes the simple present that brought happiness to the child was purchased at the expense of some retrenchment in the table-fare for a week, or with the loss of some needed article of comfort in clothing. But the influence of childhood is magical. The children find their way to our hearts, and unloose the purse-strings when all other inducements fail.
 
The Christmas boxes for soldiers in the field have grown leaner by 1864.

The Christmas-box for the soldier in the field was not forgotten ; but it was less bountifully supplied than when first the Christmas dinner was despatched to him to be shared with his comrades in his soldier's tent. Santa Klaus once more generously disposed of socks and scarfs and visors, to the husbands, brothers, sons, and lovers in the army.

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Putnam describes going to church on this sad Christmas of 1864.

In the Confederate Capital, the churches were always filled on this particular festival. On this day not the knee alone, but the heart was bowed, and fervent prayers were offered that no more should the Christmas sun dawn on our land deluged in blood, but that when Christmas came next the sun of peace might shed its light on hearts now breaking under the cruel oppression of remorseless war. The exercises at church were all that was left to remind us of Christmas as of yore.

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St. John's Church, Richmond
 
Like McGuire, in 1864 Putnam laments not just the scarcity of food, but the faces no longer present at the holiday table.

Could the vail have been uplifted that hid the privacy of home, and the Christmas dinner of Kichmond on this day have been exposed, we should have seen here and there, the fat turkey, the mince pie, the bowl of egg-nog and other creature comforts, which ordinarily abound on the tables of Virginia on this occasion; but generally, (and particularly among those who were reduced to keeping-rooms) if from the accumulating expenses of the times, the turkey could be afforded it was accompanied simply with potatoes and corn-bread, and this was the dinner for Christmas on the tables of many, with whom all the luxuries of our own and foreign climes had been in every-day use. But this could all have been borne bravely, cheerfully, heroically —it is almost too trifling to notice, had not the vacant place recalled the memory of one or more, whose bones were bleaching somewhere on the field made red with the mingled blood of friend and foe. It was not the want of delicacies and luxuries that brought the tear to the eye of the mother, or heaved the father's bosom in a long-drawn sigh.
 
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In a far off corner of the Confederacy, out in Texas, Martha Ingram would write to her husband, George, about her desire for a Christmas gift:

This is Christmas night and I am all alone and lonely. Ma and the Little boys have gon [sic] to bed and the Negroes have gone in search of some amusement…. I would claim yore [sic] Christmas gift and I would tell you what it must bee [sic] —won kiss imprinted from yore lips on mine.

Deborah Boswell. Women in Civil War Texas: Diversity and Dissidence in the Trans-Mississippi (Kindle Locations 1265-1266). University of North Texas Press. Kindle Edition.

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Martha F. Ingram and George W. Ingram

https://www.ancestry.com/mediaui-vi...4-85ec-60aab3e630b5?_phsrc=Zmo6&usePUBJs=true
 
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In another letter, Martha describes her Christmas preparations.

I made him and brother a nice new cap and baked them some cakes for a Christmas gift. When I asked Bud what I must say to you for him he said to tell Pa to come home and bring Unkle Bun and Unkle Kennon and Randle, that he was afraid that you would stay so long that you would die like John Gee did. He seames to think of you now more than ever. Ant Aggy dide the 20 day of Dec. Poore old solde, she suffers a greate deal tho hir suffering is over now. Oh what a blessing it would be if we could bee as well prepared to die as she was.
https://books.google.com/books?id=ktAvAAAAMAAJ&focus=searchwithinvolume&q=christmas

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Martha Elliot Ingram and husband George​
 
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By Christmas 1863, Sarah Morgan Dawson and her family had relocated to New Orleans, where a half-brother was a Unionist sympathizer and a judge. She related some of her Christmas sentiments in her new home:

Friday December 25th. Night [1863]

As though to punish me for thinking the city dull, this has been almost a Merry Christmas. All the week the streets have been crowded, and on the two days I ventured out, I saw almost every face I knew here. What a world of reflection these Christmas expeditions would afford to one who is fond of moralizing! But I’m not. So every time I caught myself smiling at the bright, eager faces in the stores comparing their purses and the cited articles that were to give some one such a harming surprise, and began to think of who they were intended for, and what a beautiful custom it was, I would check myself with “Come! no nonsense!: and come to myself just as I was forgotten what I wanted while speculating on my neighbors. Is there anything more charming to look at than a crowd of people all pleased with themselves and each other? No wonder I came home feeling so comfortable. A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 585.

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New Orleans, 1864​
 
Like McGuire, in 1864 Putnam laments not just the scarcity of food, but the faces no longer present at the holiday table.

Could the vail have been uplifted that hid the privacy of home, and the Christmas dinner of Kichmond on this day have been exposed, we should have seen here and there, the fat turkey, the mince pie, the bowl of egg-nog and other creature comforts, which ordinarily abound on the tables of Virginia on this occasion; but generally, (and particularly among those who were reduced to keeping-rooms) if from the accumulating expenses of the times, the turkey could be afforded it was accompanied simply with potatoes and corn-bread, and this was the dinner for Christmas on the tables of many, with whom all the luxuries of our own and foreign climes had been in every-day use. But this could all have been borne bravely, cheerfully, heroically —it is almost too trifling to notice, had not the vacant place recalled the memory of one or more, whose bones were bleaching somewhere on the field made red with the mingled blood of friend and foe. It was not the want of delicacies and luxuries that brought the tear to the eye of the mother, or heaved the father's bosom in a long-drawn sigh.


Boy, the Victorians get accused of writing melodramatically- but how else would you put it? It makes me wish so much shortages were not so severe that photographs were increasingly rare. Grateful to have Harper's and Leslie's send ' photo journalists ' into the South, so it's a little documented but we're missing so much of civilian life during the war!
 
Just wanted to note how hard it would have been for all the families of men away at war- which was most as the conscription age crept ever further towards childhood and old age. This couple I've always found especially poignant and would have, no matter the uniform. Still- with only North Carolina ( and maybe Texas ? ) remaining faithful to supporting wives and children while men fought, did this wife and child celebrate Christmas all those years?
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Sarah Morgan Dawson describes Christmas Eve festivities in New Orleans:

Last night Sister went to a ball and the children went to another, and as we went up to help them dress, we had bustled and fund enough even for Christmas Eve. The children looked like angels, and Sister was as beautiful as usual, hardly to be improved by even the magnificent ear-rings Brother had just presented her. Wishing to leave my poor little Christmas gifts (not valuable, to be sure; nothing but a mouchoir case for Sister and some trifle for Brother just to show I thought of them) I had to wait until they had departed. Then, when we came home, I had to wait so long before mother and Miriam fell asleep so I could hang up their stockings that midnight found me still working. A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 585.
 
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Sarah describes Christmas morning in their home in New Orleans:

After breakfast Edmond came in bearing a tray full of Christmas gifts from Brother & Sister. Besides the usual bonbons, there was a dress for mother, and two beautiful bonnets for Miriam and me. Miriam’s was trimmed in peach colored velvet and the other in light blue; and to the strings of each was pinned fifty dollars. Wasn’t it a beautiful Christmas gift? Miriam and I fell to hugging each other, as there was nothing else to hug except the bed post, which did not even put on a please look when it saw us so happy. How good they are to us! Will we never—never—?, Dawson, p. 585.

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Miriam Morgan​
 
Tell you what is interesting. Spent a good deal of time tooling around newspapers, thinking well, surely someone has mentioned how dreary a time Christmas has become? Yes, as far as men getting killed, troop movements, a woman murdering her husband, a few editorials on outrageous prices- not one ( yet ) relating first hand accounts.

Some nice hospital stories, which is always a plus.
 
Margaret Ann "Meta" Morris Grimball, 1810-1881, was a descendent of Lewis Morris, a signer of the Declaration of Independence. She married John Berkley Grimball and they brought up their nine children on their rice plantation and in Charleston. She kept a diary during the Civil War and afterward.

1862
Daughter Elizabeth had a charming Christmas day...She was invited to spend the day with Mrs Dawkins, at Union, where there is a very nice Episcopal Church...There was a plentiful breakfast on their arrival, and then the Christmas tree for the children, with little gifts made by kind hands. After the tree they practised the Church Music, then went to Church, where E. took her place in the Choir, they returned to Mrs D's, had a real Christmas dinner...We went to hear Mr Whiteford Smith preach in the morning, had a fine sermon...came home to a dinner of Roast pig and a pudding, which we all enjoyed...In the evening short cake, and a great deal of pleasant talk. - Just now we have some sausages, and I am glad Mr Grimball is with us to enjoy them.
https://bjws.blogspot.com/2016/12/civil-war-christmas-memories-of_50.html
 
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Son Berkley writes that his Christmas passed very pleasantly, they had a fine breakfast, of Opossum, Partridges, corn bread, & butter. A dinner with company. - In the Evening Theatricals a burlesque on the Ghost Scene in Hamlet. The dying scene of Lady Macbeth, and then a piece called the stolen pig, a man comes to the Captain of the Company complaining of having lost a pig, & says his negro, Cuffy, saw who took it. The Court Martial is arranged and the whole company called out, and Cuffy is made to point to the man who stole the pig. The part of the negro is played by Simons; and to the great delight of the negroes present, composed of teamsters, & servants there was music between the acts. Berkley lead the Orchestra, which consisted of 2 Violins, a triangle, bones, a drum. The end of the play is that the man is sentenced to death, and dies like Othello.

 
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