Forum Host- Joined
- Mar 18, 2011
- Location
- Clinton, Mississippi
I found the following article in The Yazoo City Herald (Yazoo, Mississippi,) May 27, 1887. It was written by Rose W. Fry of Lewisburg, West Virginia, who was born in 1847. She never married, but after the war became a rather prominent writer, and had articles published in newspapers nationwide. The brother she mentions in the article was John J. Fry, who was a private in Company G, 27th Virginia Infantry. I only transcribed parts of the article, as it was very long:
At the beginning of the late Civil War almost every one who moved in a respectable circle in social life had a decent stock of individual clothing on hand. But as the four long years of conflict dragged themselves along, this stock became sadly and perceptibly diminished.
Fortunately we had cotton and wool in the raw, and factories for their manufacture into woolen and cotton cloth sprang up at every available point. Very much of their produce, however, was necessarily reserved for the uses of the army.
The family to which I belonged was a family of refugees, and the first consideration as winter drew on was how to keep warm. Comforters made of coarse calico or old silk dresses and lined with raw cotton were our first achievement.
Shoes came next on the list. Fortunately there was a tannery in the village, and by paying down hard money we were duly shod in stout calf-skin. Later on sheep-skin and alligator skin were pressed into service. At home we wore cloth shoes or crocheted slippers, fastened on to the soles of discarded shoes.
Fancy the amount of cotton cloth necessary to cover the nakedness of a household of eight females, three males and several servants. At first we had to resort to the linen sheeting of happier days! Later on we were glad to obtain unbleached muslin, no matter how inferior the quality.
As the war went on, prices advanced frightfully, owing to the scarcity of goods and the depreciation of the currency.
Very early in the struggle the shadow fell. A brother, the eldest born, lay with the unsheeted dead at Manassas. My first mourning was very simple – a dyed merino, a black dotted calico, a black ribbon round my white child's hat, voila tout.
I went through the war on four calico dresses and when I close my eyes I can see those calicoes yet. They were all polka-dotted, and ranged from 45 cents a yard all the way up to $10. As our exigencies increased two dresses were merged into one. Prior to the war, a twin sister and myself had always dressed exactly alike. We now exchanged, and out of two half-worn dresses evolved one whole garment.
Garibaldi waists were very popular. They were made out of silk, cloth, velvet or muslin, and worn with any kind of skirt, bright or dark as might be. I remember a black velvet jacket, cut from a mantle, which was worn by five girls in turn, and did service on many trying occasions. It figured on horseback, in the parlor, at state receptions – in short everywhere.
But alas for the prospective bride in war time. To amass a trousseau was a matter of almost super human effort. A friend who married in the winter of '62 was made happy by the gift of her mother's store of table and bed linen. These were duly converted into underwear, finished off with hand embroidery, a mauve velvet, and brown silk shot with gold, procured in Richmond, completed her outfit.
At the beginning of the late Civil War almost every one who moved in a respectable circle in social life had a decent stock of individual clothing on hand. But as the four long years of conflict dragged themselves along, this stock became sadly and perceptibly diminished.
Fortunately we had cotton and wool in the raw, and factories for their manufacture into woolen and cotton cloth sprang up at every available point. Very much of their produce, however, was necessarily reserved for the uses of the army.
The family to which I belonged was a family of refugees, and the first consideration as winter drew on was how to keep warm. Comforters made of coarse calico or old silk dresses and lined with raw cotton were our first achievement.
Shoes came next on the list. Fortunately there was a tannery in the village, and by paying down hard money we were duly shod in stout calf-skin. Later on sheep-skin and alligator skin were pressed into service. At home we wore cloth shoes or crocheted slippers, fastened on to the soles of discarded shoes.
Fancy the amount of cotton cloth necessary to cover the nakedness of a household of eight females, three males and several servants. At first we had to resort to the linen sheeting of happier days! Later on we were glad to obtain unbleached muslin, no matter how inferior the quality.
As the war went on, prices advanced frightfully, owing to the scarcity of goods and the depreciation of the currency.
Very early in the struggle the shadow fell. A brother, the eldest born, lay with the unsheeted dead at Manassas. My first mourning was very simple – a dyed merino, a black dotted calico, a black ribbon round my white child's hat, voila tout.
I went through the war on four calico dresses and when I close my eyes I can see those calicoes yet. They were all polka-dotted, and ranged from 45 cents a yard all the way up to $10. As our exigencies increased two dresses were merged into one. Prior to the war, a twin sister and myself had always dressed exactly alike. We now exchanged, and out of two half-worn dresses evolved one whole garment.
Garibaldi waists were very popular. They were made out of silk, cloth, velvet or muslin, and worn with any kind of skirt, bright or dark as might be. I remember a black velvet jacket, cut from a mantle, which was worn by five girls in turn, and did service on many trying occasions. It figured on horseback, in the parlor, at state receptions – in short everywhere.
But alas for the prospective bride in war time. To amass a trousseau was a matter of almost super human effort. A friend who married in the winter of '62 was made happy by the gift of her mother's store of table and bed linen. These were duly converted into underwear, finished off with hand embroidery, a mauve velvet, and brown silk shot with gold, procured in Richmond, completed her outfit.
Bringing the