THE

THE OLD CAPITOL PRISON:

ITS HISTORY AND INCIDENTS.

HE buildings known as the Old Capitol, but now de molished, were not erected at one time. The Old Capital proper, included only the building fronting on First Street; that on A Street adjoining, and forming a part of the prison, was built subsequently.

The Old Capitol Prison, situated on the corner of A and First Streets, Washington, was an old and dilapidated brick building, which was erected in 1817, to accommodate the National Legislature, the Capitol building having been de stroyed by fire. It was used for that purpose until the Capitol was rebuilt, when the additions and alterations were made, and it was fitted up for a boarding-house, and as such, was, for many years, patronized by members of Congress and others, who visited the city during the sessions of Congress, and whose daily attendance on the Legislative halls made a contiguous dwelling desirable. It was in this building that the Hon. John C. Calhoun breathed his last. And little did this revered champion of liberty, or his compeers, who legislated within its walls, or reposed beneath its roof, think that the day would come, when this building, within sight of the Capitol of the Nation, whose dome is surmounted by the Goddess of Liberty, would be turned into a Bastile and dungeon for the victims of despotism.

The building forms two sides of a square. The entrance on First Street is under a large arched window, which admitted light to the former Senate Chamber, but which, through its broken and filthy panes, permitted the winter's wind and drifting snow to fall on the unhappy inmates of

the "infamous " room No. 16. On entering the building from First Street, a large hall or passage-way presents itself. This was used as an anteroom, or lounging-place for the soldiers who formed a part of the military guard of the prison. On the right, there were two rooms which were used as offices, into which the prisoners were taken on their arrival, questioned, and searched by one or more officers of the guard. In the discharge of this and kindred duties, Lieutenant Miller, of the 10th New Jersey Volunteers, made himself so unenviably notorious and tyrannically officious, as to merit and call forth the unanimous execrations of every inmate of the prison, as well as the officers, guards, and negro attendants, and for which he was promoted to the office of Chief Jailer of the adjoining Bastile, called "Duff Green's Row." The innermost of these offices opens into a hall, on which there was one room for prisoners, which was about twenty feet square, containing a number of bunks or sleeping berths, like those used on canal-boats, but having three berths, one above another. These berths were about three feet wide and six feet long, and, from constant use and want of cleaning, were literally alive with bed bugs and other vermin. Indeed, this but faintly describes the condition of every room in the building at that time; and the weary hours of the inmates were often industriously employed in the disgusting occupation of killing vermin.

From this hall, the principal stairway ascends; and at the end of, and opposite to, the first flight of stairs was room No. 19, for some time used as the private office of the Superintendent. Not a few of our readers will call to mind their visits to this inquisitorial chamber, for it was there that Detective Baker and Superintendent Wm. P. Wood held their interviews with their innocent victims, and tortured their harmless, though often fearless, expressions into evidence against them! and, in hundreds of cases, this was the only evidence they possessed, with which they hoped to criminate or intimidate them into tacitly submitting to the terms of extortion proposed as a condition of their release.

Following up the stairs from this room brought you to the principal floor of the building, which was once used by the Senate and House of Representatives, but, latterly, was divided into five large rooms, numbered, respectively, from 14 to 18, of which room No. 16 was the centre and largest. These rooms strongly resembled the one already described, being fitted with similar bunks, filled with filth of every imaginable kind, and entirely destitute of any furniture or other accommodations indispensable to the humblest cabin. These rooms, which usually contained from eighteen to twenty-five prisoners in each, were less than thirty feet. square; and, with the accumulation of filth, the inevitable consequence of overcrowding and neglect of cleanliness, presented a condition that can better be imagined than described. The hall or vestibule in front of these rooms, and from which they all open, was continually paced by a sentry, whose duty it was not to allow more than two of the prisoners, at a time, to leave their rooms for the purpose of obeying nature's calls, and on their doing so, to shout to the sentry on the next landing, that "All is right, No. 6," that being the number of the post. Each sentry had a number to his post, and one was stationed on every landing in the building, so that the new comer to that terrible dungeon, in consequence of the continued calls of the sentries, the clanking of their arms, and the changing of the guard once in every two hours, had but little hope of becoming oblivious to his sorrows, or forgetful of his wrongs, in sleep.

Rooms No. 14, 15, and 18 were usually filled with citizens of Virginia - farmers living within the Federal lines. And many of these were gentlemen of the highest respectability, education, and patriotism; some found themselves inmates because they owned a fine horse coveted by some shoulderstrapped upstart; and others had refused to swear allegiance to a Government that was then totally powerless to protect their persons or property. Room No. 17 was filled with of ficers of the Federal service, many of whom were ignorant of the cause of their arrest, and some were sent there because

Provost Marshal Doster wished to coerce them into complı. ance with his mandates, and who proposed to release them or their sending in an unconditional resignation of their positions. In this room was confined a Lieutenant McClune, of the 135th Pennsylvania Volunteers, whose offence consisted in saying he disapproved President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation. For this grave and heinous crime he was incarcerated four months, without a trial; and finally, when tried, the Colonel (Porter) of his regiment, who desired the position for a friend, was made president of the court-martial. The result, as might be expected, was finding him guilty, and sentencing him to dismissal from the service, and imprisonment, during the war, at the Dry Tortugas.

Adjoining this was room No. 16, famous alike for having been the quarters of the Western prisoners and for having contained the leading spirits of the prison. This room, like the others, contained twenty-one bunks, but few of which, however, could be used by the occupants, as they were thickly infested by vermin. Here, at different periods, were confined men from almost every State of the Union - honorable repre sentatives of the learned professions, merchants of the highest character and standing; and in fact, some from nearly all the walks of life.

The reader, to form a correct idea of the mess-room, No. 16, must imagine he sees before him a large and desolatelooking apartment, with one large window at the end, opposite to that from which he enters. In the centre, a large dirty cylinder stove. Around the room, and against its dirty walls, the whitewash on which was discolored with age, and festooned with spiders' webs, were distributed the bunks already mentioned, and in addition, three or four iron bedsteads these bunks, at times, filled with boxes, bags, valises, pots, pans, newspapers, pipes, cigars, old playing cards, empty bottles, and one or more of every garment of men's wear, indiscriminately packed together in chaotic con fusion, with the débris of the last meal, and the materials for the next. Sitting on chairs, benches, and impromptu