Knitting for the soldiers

I will be attending an event I GA next week. I thought it would be nice to gather together for one hour ladies who knit or crochet goods for the soldiers.

Staunton spectator, (Staunton, VA) Jan. 5, 1864 – Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. LOC

“An army correspondent, writing from Longsteet’s corps, says there are 3,000 barefoot men in that corps alone. From Johnston’s (late Bragg’s) army, comes a piteous appeal for blankets and clothing. Lee’s army is also in need of  blankets, and not a week ago a paper, reputed to be the Government organ, called upon the ladies to devote their energies to knitting socks for Lee’s soldiers. For some weeks past, the Young Men’s Christian Association has been furnishing cotton yarn to be knit into socks for these same soldiers. Woolen yarn was not to be had. Day by day, the clothes made for the soldiers exhibit less wool and more cotton.”

 

Macon Daily Telegraph, (Macon, GA), April 8, 1863

A Patriotic Lady.—Mrs. S. Young, of Putnam County, Ga., has knit and donated to the Soldiers 150 pairs of Socks—also, clothed two soldiers entire from the commencement of the war up to this time, and has made numerous other contributions from her own labor. How many such women would it take to clothe our entire army?  

Macon Daily Telegraph, (Macon, GA), January 09, 1864

Knit the Socks.—We are requested by Major Hayden to say that the wool for Cobb’s Kentucky battery is now all carded and spun into yarn, waiting at E.J.Johnston & Co’s for the nimble fingers of Macon’s fair ladies to knit it into socks for the sockless men of Cobb’s Kentucky Battery. Will they not take hold of this work of charity and patriotism?

Macon Daily Telegraph and Confederate, (Macon, GA), December 06, 1864

TO THE LADIES 

We are informed that a quantity of yarn has been left with Mr. Burke, at the Methodist Book Store for the purpose of being knit into socks for the use of the Tennessee soldiers. These men are separated from their families and therefore cannot be provided with clothing by their wives, mothers and sisters. The ladies of Macon are urgently solicited to call at Mr. Burke’s, get the yarn and knit into socks. If every lady in Macon will devote a few hours to this work they will alleviate a great deal of suffering among the gallant soldiers from Tennessee. The socks are much needed and we trust in a few days to chronicle that hundreds of pairs are in process of making. What lady will have the honor of finishing the first pair?  

The Daily Bulletin (Winchester, TN) September 30, 1862, & Edgefield advertiser, (Edgefield SC), Sept 17, 1862,  Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. LOC

Knitting for the Soldiers.—This is an important matter, and one which we hope will engage the early and earnest attention of all the women of the country who have it in their power to aid in providing for the wants of our brave soldiers. The season for cold weather is rapidly approaching, In a very few weeks our soldiers will require their supplies of winter clothing. Among the articles they will need, and which should be furnished them with as little delay as possible, are good, warm, comfortable socks. The pittance which the soldiers receive from the Government for clothing is not enough to supply them with outer clothing alone; and hence many are unable to pay for the under-clothing which their necessities compel them to have. Last year at this time, there were thousands of fair fingers busily employed in knitting for the soldiers, and, tanks to the untiring efforts of the noble-hearted women of the South, the defenders of the country were as comfortable clad during the last winter, as could have been expected. Next winter there will be more than double the number of soldiers in the field than there was last, and renewed and redoubled exertions will be necessary in order to prevent suffering in their ranks from the ?nt [long crease in the paper] of sufficient clothing. It is the duty of those who remain at home to provide for those in the field, and we feel assured that those who have fathers, husband, sons, brothers and friends in the army, will not fail to do all the love-patriotism and duty require.

The Athens post (Athens, TN) August 30, 1861, Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. LOC 

KNIT, KNIT, KNIT

The Vicksburg Whig says that nearly every lady, old and young, in Warren county is busily engaged knitting socks for  soldiers—and that the result of their labor will soon be collected together and sent on to the army. The worth example should be followed in every county, city and town throughout the South.

Knitting for the Soldiers - Union poem

Fremont journal, (Fremont, Sandusky County OH) December 13, 1861 - Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. LOC

From the Cleveland Herald

Knitting for the Soldiers.

One eve I sat beside the grate, the time I well remember

The winds were moaning round the house, for it was bleak November,

And queer, quaint shadows, large and small, upon the walls were flitting:

And I sat by this fireside, for I was busy knitting.

And I was happy! Golden hours! Ah, fondly memory lingers,

I think of that soft, woolen yarn, fast slipping through my fingers,

A soldier’s sock, of fine grey yarn, my hands were quickly forming,

And round the house with dreary moan, the wintry winds were storming.

I thought, as fast my fingers flew, and formed the stout grey stitches,

Of our brave soldiers in the camps, on breastworks and in ditches:

Of sickness, hunger, fight and death, of TOES so cold and frozen,

(I do not think our ladies could a better task have chosen.)

I thought as on the needles flew, of where the socks were going;

Would they be on the battle-field, where the life-tide was flowing?

Or would the wearer, brave and young, dead on the field be lying;

When his brave comrades charged the foe, and sent them all a flying.

Perhaps a prisoner he’ll be, in a dungeon dark and lone,

Or, in a crowed hospital, he’ll breathe his last death moan,

Or, on a slow and weary march, o’er hill and stream he’ll go;

Or, on a level plain, he’ll stand, prepared to meet the foe.

The fire burned brightly, and I thought of these poor soldiers sitting

Around their fires, in camp at night, thankful for our knitting;

As I bent my head to seam, I thought how nice ‘twould be,

If I could know whose feet would wear, the socks t’were knit by me.

But then I thought, perhaps the foe may strip our noble slain,

And all the socks they take from them, we ne’er shall see again;

“Secesh” will have them! dreadful thought! my Union sprit rose,

I WILL NOT spend my precious time, in warming “secesh” toes.

And thus I sat, and knit, and thought, my sock kept growing longer,

And love for these poor soldier boys was meanwhile growing stronger;

God bless the many fingers that are busy in the land,

A working by their firesides, to clothe our soldier bands.

They’ve left their homes, and all that’s dear, this Union fair to save,

To keep for us our happy homes, or find themselves a grave;

And we, in peace and plenty now, are by our firesides sitting,

Can we not clothe their weary feet, with socks of OUR OWN knitting !

Union song about knitting for the soldiers

The Smoky Hill and Republican Union (Junction City, KS) August 8, 1863 - Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers, LOC

A young lady in New York State sends us the following new version of “John Brown,” which is quite popular in that region. The words are pretty, and the sentiment the best we have seen adapted to this popular piece of music:

To the Ladies of the Blue Stocking Club.

By Charles Puffer.

Where the starry banners of the Union army stand,

Over hill and valley, and along the Dixie strand,

Soft appeals are coming to the ladies of the land,

For the brave, brave Volunteers.

Glory, glory, Hallelujah, &c.

Valley Forge remember, and the ashes laid below,

Tell the brave old legion of the foot prints in the snow,

Then merrily click the needles, as the echoes come and go,

For the brave, brave Volunteers.

Loving eyes are dewy as they ripple o’er with tears;

Gentle hearts are thrilling with a thousand shadowy fears;

Fairy hands are knitting for the brave Volunteers;

Tenderly we’re dreaming of the long, long ago,

The lady of her lover, and the lassie of her beau.

But every one is dreaming of the faces that we know,

In the brave, brave Volunteers.

Far away in Dixie land, when the soldiers fall,

Many a grateful tongue upon your names will call,

Breathing a farewell, and a blessing for you all,

From the brave, brave Volunteers.

Then from the Atlantic to the wide Pacific shore,

Ladies, with your loving fingers knitting evermore,

Labor for the army, as your mothers did of yore,

For the brave, brave Volunteers.

Union Knitting Army.

I'm finding some interesting stories about knitting socks for the army/soldiers.

Cleveland mourning leader (Cleveland OH) October 19, 1861 - Chronicling Historic American Newspapers LOC

Union Knitting Army.

                The ladies of the O.S. Presbyterian Church, at Pleasant Ridge, Hamilton Co., have formed themselves into what we hope may be the advance guard of a grand Knitting Army. They have pledged themselves, each and every one, to knit four pairs of woolen yarn socks, or stockings, by the first of January, 1862—two pairs by the first of November, and the remaining two by the first of January, 1862.

                Appealing to their sisters elsewhere, they say: “Let each lady pledge herself to knit four pairs by the time specified, and thereby manifest the interest and sympathy we feel for the gallant defenders of our homes and firesides, by enlisting for the war in the Union Knitting Army.”

Hint to the Ladies...the socks...are too small

Thanks to the internet, data bases and search engines, finding primary sources today is quicker and efficient. I love finding and putting together information from the past.  

The Macon Daily Telegraph [Georgia] February, 17, 1864

Hint to the Ladies.—As a general thing a large proportion of the socks that have been sent to this office and forwarded to the soldiers, are too small. We published, some days ago, instructions from a lady on the art of knitting, and our lady friends would do well to observe them. A tight fitting sock affords not half the comfort of a loose one and will wear out in one third the time.

Macon Daily Telegraph [Georgia] January 26, 1864

DIRECTIONS FOR KNITTING SOCKS FOR THE ARMY.—The following directions, which have been furnished by a lady of much experience, may prove useful to those who will engage in knitting woolen socks for the army. The yarn should be bluish grey, No. twenty-two, and the needles No. fourteen to fifteen:

            Set twenty-seven stitches on each needle; knit the plain and two seam rows alternately until the ribbing is three inches long; then knit plain seven inches for the leg, remembering to seam one stitch at the end of one needle.

To form the heel, put twenty stitches on two of the needles, and forty on the other—the seam stitch being in the middle. Knit the first row plain, the next row seam, and so alternately until the heel is three inches long, then narrow on the plain row each side of the seam stitch for five plain rows, which will leave thirty-one stitches. To close the heel, knit the last seam row to the middle of the needle, knit the seam stitch plain, then fold the two needles together, and with another needle take off the seam stitch. Then knit a stitch from both needles at once and bind the seam stitch over it. Continue knitting in this manner until but one is left and the heel closed. Take up as many stitches as there are rows around the heel; knit one row plain; then widen every fifth stitch on the heel needles. Narrow once on every round at each side of the foot until there are twenty-seven stitches on each needle, knit plain six inches; narrow at the beginning and end of each needle on every third round till you have seventeen stitches on each side; then narrow every second till you have seven; then every round until the foot is closed. One pound of yarn, costing from seventy five cents to one dollar, will furnish

furnish four pair of socks.

Life in a Stocking

I am currently reading articles in 19th century newspapers as I research knitting and stockings/socks.

The Pittsfield Sun [Massachusetts] June 30, 1859

Life in a Stocking

            Life has been likened to almost everything, and has been looked upon in as many different ways as it could be turned by Fancy’s shuttle in the rattling loom or busy brain. But in all the different ways life has been presented to you, have you ever see it compared to a stocking? If not pause a moment and listen.

At first the stocking is not a stocking, not the life a life, but each a skein of yarn, pure, clean and waiting to be reeled off. Sometimes, to be sure, the yarn is clouded, mixed and even grey, but with care it will all knit in and nicely blend together. There are no breaks, no tangles in it now as you look at it ere it starts upon its course, but thread is frail, the needles may bend or break, and a steady hand, must watch them now their life-work is begun.

            Look at the stocking and look at the life—stitch by stitch do they progress, and how nicely are those stitches all linked together, held by a single thread—the thread of the stocking and thread of life—and yet so long as the thread is unbroken so long will the stitches hold together.

            But see!—there is a stitch dropped, the thread broken and tied again, and it leaves an ugly scar—a knot—a mended life. The stitch dropped may be smoothed over, the broken thread mended, but the stockings, the life are marred; the first miss-stitch is made, the first warning given.

            There is magic music in the click of the knitting needles plied with nimble fingers, and there is music too in the click of Time’s knitting needles as he knit away at the young life, now laughing a merry strain, and again, one mournful as a dirge.

            Sometimes the knitting needles grow rusty and the half knit stocking is laid away; but the hands that held the needles first grew tired, were folded over the still breast, and laid to rest when the stocking and the life were nearly half done.

            There is a great deal of seaming in the stocking, and so there is in the life; more seeming than doing, the best foot put forward, the bright side out, and the seam stitches uppermost.

            There is the widening, too—the stocking grows, the life expands, the purposes grow stong, the hands qrasp for more—and then comes the narrowing. The thread has been held so loosely, so many stitches have been dropped along the life-road, the thread of hope broken so many times, that we begin to narrow in the life-stocking, to draw more closely within ourselves, and guide the needles with a more careful hand. Then comes the footing—there is a good deal of footing in life, a good deal of trudging—the foot-path is well beaten—the feet are grown weary and sometimes they refuse to go further—the life tramp ceases and for a while we rest.

            All along the stocking and the life there are black, red and white threads—those are the way marks.

            When you were knitting the stocking your mother put those threads in that she might know when your stent was completed, you “ten times round” knit, and you could easily pull them out again; but in the woof of life they are firmly woven, and if you brush the dust away they are as plain as ever; you pull them out, but in vain.

            In the stocking those way marks are only threads, but in the life they are great joys, and grief’s; graves which draw you down to earth where hopes and hearts are buried, and jewels that draw you up to heaven—yea, even jewels in our Father’s casket.

            As you glance back to the way you have come even to the casting on of those first life-stitches, you see a great many knots mended but not hidden, a great many stitches dropped, the thread held loosely till kinked and tangled, many needles rusted and broken, and a great many way marks you would brush with the dust away.

            The knitting goes on, the ball of yarn grows smaller, the life dwindles away, the stocking is almost done—then comes the toeing off, the last stitch is bound off, the thread drawn through and broken, and the stocking and the life are done!

Helen and Mary

I've been researching poetry and verse about knitting during the American Civil War. This is an early one from the North. I have not discovered as many poems from the South...but I know they are out there.

The Ladies’ Repository, Vol. 22, 1862

Pg. 368

Helen and Mary, by Josephine Pollard

“Nonsense, Helen: there’s no reason

         Why you should remain alone;

Nothing in the world to hinder—

         Every moment is your own:

You can lounge, or walk, or visit,

         Taking comfort as you go;

Come and see me often, Helen,

         I am seldom out, you know.

Household cares are so engrossing,

         And my children are so small,

I have very little freedom,

         Scarcely time to make a call;

But there’s nothing to prevent you,

         ‘Tis no task to grant this boon;

Come and see me often, Helen,

         Come and see me very soon.”

“True, no children cling around me,

         Claiming mother’s love and care;

Though no household cares distract me,

         Duties spring up every-where.

In such times as these, dear Mary,

         Want at many a threshold stands;

There is work to do in plenty—

         Could I sit with folded hands?

Those brave men who have gone forward

         For our country’s flag to fight,

Need warm garments to protect them

         Through the wintery day and night.

Women’s hands must labor for them;

         Women’s hearts must send good cheer

To the homes where widows languish:

         Soothing many an orphan’s tear.

Mary, I’ve no heart to visit;

         I’m not idle, though you say

I have plenty leisure moments,

         Duties spring up every day.

Here are soldiers’ socks to finish

Coverlets to baste and tack;

Slippers waiting for the binding;

            Shirts and blankets yet to pack.

While brave men have left their firesides

            To endure want, woe, and pain,

We should practice self-denial

            Till sweet Peace returns again.

When these troublous times are over,

            When with palms we deck the brow

I will come and see you, Mary,

            Every day; but, O, not now.”