Abby Howland Woolsey to Eliza Woolsey Howland.
April 19, 1861.
My Dear Eliza: Your’s and Joe’s note and the box of birthday flowers for Charley came yesterday morning, and the latter we have all had the benefit of. Charley did not want to give any away, so we used them for the dinner-table and parlor, and looked and smelled “lovely” last night when we entertained eight young men callers. Charley did not have any of his friends to dinner or supper. On Wednesday he said he should keep his birthday on Thursday, and on Thursday he said he had kept it the day before. I think he preferred not having any special celebration this year. Meantime, the candy pyramid stands untouched, consolidating gradually into a huge sugary drop. The city is like a foreign one now; the flag floats from every public building and nearly every shop displays some patriotic emblem. Jane amused herself in shopping yesterday, by saying to everyone: “You have no flag out yet! Are you getting one ready?” etc. Shopkeepers said in every instance: “No – well– we mean to have one; we are having one prepared,” etc. She met Mr. Charles Johnson, of Norwich, who had been down to see the Massachusetts contingent off –a splendid set of men – hardy farmers, sailors from Marblehead, some in military hats, some in fatigue caps, some few in slouched felts – all with the army overcoat. C. J. had a talk with some of them in their New England vernacular, which he described as very funny, “thought there might be some fightin’, but by golly! there’s one thing we want to do–a lot of us–just pitch into an equal number of South Carolinas.” C. J. says a few gentlemen in Norwich came in to the “Norwich Bank” to his father and authorized him to offer Governor Buckingham $137,000 as a private subscription. This is beside the $100,000 offered by the other bank the “Thames.”
Yesterday Mother and I went round to see Mary Carey, who was out, but seeing policemen about the door of the Brevoort House, colors flying, and a general look of expectancy on the faces of people in opposite windows, we hung round and finally asked what was going on? “Why nothing ma’am, only Major Anderson has just arriv’.” Sure enough, he had driven up rapidly, reported himself at General Scott’s headquarters, and then driven round to the hotel. In five minutes the crowd on foot had got wind of it and came surging up Eighth street with the Jefferson Guard, or something of that sort –a mounted regiment–who wished to give the Major a marching salute. Band playing, colors flying, men’s voices cheering lustily, and everywhere hats tossed up and handkerchiefs waving–it was an enthusiastic and delightful tribute! We clung to an iron railing inside an adjoining courtyard and, safe from the crush of the crowd, waved our welcome with the rest and saw Major Anderson come out, bow with military precision several times and then retire. He looked small, slender, old, wrinkled, and grey, and was subdued and solemn in manner. Charley Johnson was on hand, of course – he is up to everything – and later in the day pressed his way in with some ladies, shook hands impressively and prayed, “God bless you, Sir!” “I trust He will!” said Major Anderson, and expressed himself honored by the interest felt in him. Our Charley went round in the evening, found Mr. Aspinwall in close conversation with the Major in the parlor, but not liking to intrude, looked his fill at him through the crack of the door.
Yesterday was “one of the days” in 10th street – a steady stream of people all day. While Mother and I went out for a few calls and had our little adventure, as above described, Jane took a short constitutional. C. Johnson, whom she met, gave her a flag, and as she walked up Broadway a large omnibus, with six horses, passed, gaily decked with flags and filled with gentlemen – some delegation –going to wait on Major Anderson as they supposed. Jane said she could not help giving her flag a little twirl– not daring to look to the right or left– and instantly the whole load of men broke out into vociferous cheers. They tell us that quantities of Union cockades were worn in the streets yesterday, and I should not be surprised if they should become universally popular. Just at dusk Will Winthrop came in to say good bye. To our immense surprise, he said he and Theodore joined the Seventh Regiment a week ago–he as a private in the ranks and Theodore in the artillery in charge of a howitzer– and they were all to leave this afternoon for Washington. It seemed to bring war nearer home to us. Mother was quite concerned, but I cannot but feel that the Seventh Regiment is only wanted there for the moral influence. It will act as guard of honor to the Capitol and come home in a fortnight. However, the demand for troops in Washington is very urgent. They are telegraphing here for all the regular officers. Even Colonel Ripley, the Dennys’ cousin, who arrived on government business yesterday on his way to Springfield, was overtaken by a telegram as he took his seat in the New Haven train and ordered back by night train to Washington. Other men received similar despatches, and the idea is that Washington may be attacked at once now that Virginia has gone out, and the fear is that if done this week it may be taken. Troops are hurrying on. The Rhode Island contingent passed down at nine this morning, the Seventh goes at three – that will be a grand scene! We shall be somewhere on Broadway to see them pass. Georgy has been busy all the morning cutting up beef sandwiches and tying them up in white papers as rations. Each man tonight must take his supply with him for twenty-four hours, and Theodore Winthrop, who was in last night, suggested that we should put up “something for him and Billy in a newspaper.” The Seventh is likely to have more than it needs in that way; it is being greatly pampered; but it all helps to swell the ardor of those who stay behind I suppose. The more troops who can be sent off to Washington the less chance for fighting. The immensity of our preparations may over-awe the South. Last night we had rather jolly times, joking and telling war anecdotes, and worked ourselves up into a very merry cheerful spirit. It is well that we can sometimes seize on the comic points of the affair or we should be overwhelmed by the dreadful probabilities.