Washington,
Jan. 15.--This morning it was rumored that the female prisoners confined in the Sixteenth-Street Prison were to be removed to the
Old Capitol Prison, where, in consequence of their rebellious proclivities, quarters have been prepared for them.
Accordingly, we visited
Lieut. N. E. Sheldon, a native of
New-York, and an officer of the
Sturgess Rifles, the body-guard of
General McClellan during his campaign in
Western Virginia, who, for some time past, has been detailed as the guard of these prisoners, and were admitted, after some delay, into his quarters.
It is well known that since the attempt made to rescue the prisoners at this house on the first of the year, the utmost vigilance has been displayed in the approach of visitors to this point.
And hence it was that when we applied for admission at the quarters of
Lieut. Sheldon, we were obliged to
halt for a few moments, until our character and the object of our visit were ascertained.
The call for the corporal was made by the guard, and our communication subsequently conveyed to the
Lieutenant, by whom, as we have said before, we were admitted.
As we entered the building we must confess that the emotions of our mind were sad rather than otherwise.
We were perfectly cognizant of the fact that, instead of approaching the place of confinement of those who were the male enemies of the
Government, we were being admitted to the presence of the
female enemies of the law and the
Constitution; and thus it was that our feelings were of the nature that we have described.
That woman should, in the hour of our struggle, desert us, and side with our enemies, was more than we expected.
And when the first traitoress was arrested in this city and confined in the Sixteenth-Street Prison, we not only pitied, but in the longings of our hearts forgave her the offence that she had committed.
Such has been the history of the war, however, that not only men have been convicted of the charge arraigned against them, but women have also been as instrumental in interfering with the plans of our warfare, by giving aid and comfort to the enemy, and aiding them to escape the judgment that would have been visited upon them by the
Government.
When we visited the establishment referred to, we were admitted to the parlor of the house, formerly occupied by
Mrs. Greenhow, fronting on Sixteenth street. Passing through the door on the left, and
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we stood in the apartment alluded to. There were others who had stood here before us — we have no doubt of that — men and women of intelligence and refinement.
There was a bright fire glowing on the hearth, and a
tete-à--tete was drawn up in front.
The two parlors were divided by a red gauze, and in the back room stood a handsome rosewood piano, with pearl keys, upon which the prisoner of the house,
Mrs. G., and her friends, had often performed.
The walls of the room were hung with portraits of friends and others — some on earth and some in heaven--one of them representing a former daughter of
Mrs. Greenhow,
Gertrude, a girl of seventeen or eighteen summers, with auburn hair and light-blue eyes, who died some time since.
In the picture a smile of beauty plays around the lips, and the eyes are lighted with a strange fancy — such as is often seen in the eyes of a girl just budding into womanhood.
On the east wall hangs the picture of
Mrs. Fanny Moore, whose husband is now in our army, while the walls of the back room are adorned with different pictures of the men and women of our time.
Just now, as we are examining pictures, there is a noise heard overhead — hardly a noise, for it is the voice of a child, soft and musical.
“That is Rose
Greenhow, the daughter of
Mrs. Greenhow, playing with the guard,” says the
Lieutenant, who has noticed our distractment.
“It is a strange sound here: you don't often hear it, for it is generally very quiet.”
And the handsome face of the
Lieutenant is relaxed into a shade of sadness.
There are prisoners above there — no doubt of that — and may be the tones of this young child have dropped like the rains of spring upon the leaves of the drooping flowers!
A moment more, and all is quiet, and, save the stepping of the guard above, there is nothing heard.
The Sixteenth-Street Jail has been an object of considerable interest for months past, to citizens as well as visitors.
Before the windows of the upper stories were “blinded,” the prisoners often appeared at these points, and were viewed by pedestrians on the other side of the way; but since the “cake affair” of New-Year's Day the prisoners have been forbidden to appear at the windows, and the excitement, instead of being allayed, has been still further increased.
The first person incarcerated at the prison was
Mrs. Rose O. H. Greenhow, as she signs herself.
She was arrested on the eleventh of August of the last year, and has been confined in the prison ever since.
Her husband was formerly employed in the State Department in this city.
She is a woman of letters, and was born in the
South, although brought up in
Washington.
She is confined in her own house, in one of the upper stories, and has the attendance of a servant, beside the company of her own daughter, an interesting child of some twelve years. Beside these confined here were
Mrs. Phillips, her sister,
Mrs. Levy, and her two daughters, Misses Fannie and
Lena.
Mrs. Phillips is a Jewess, and her husband married her at
Savannah, Ga. Mrs. Levy was a widow, and her husband, who was formerly in the army, died.
Her two daughters are finely educated.
These latter were, after being confined six weeks, sent to
Fortress Monroe.
Next in turn comes
Mrs. Betty A. Hassler, who was born and reared in
Washington.
She possessed the least education of any woman ever confined in this prison.
Her husband is a Southern man. She is fascinating in appearance, but has not much decision of character.
She was released on parole by order of the
Secretary of War.
Mrs. Jackson, the mother of the assassin of
Ellsworth, has also been confined at this point.
She came here with nothing but a flannel gown on, and wearing slave shoes.
She was incarcerated but two days and nights.
She has now gone South, to
Richmond, where she has been endeavoring, with but little success, to obtain funds for the support of her family.
It is rumored that she is not able to collect enough funds to support her from day to day.
Miss Lilly Mackle, a daughter of
Mackle, a clerk in one of the departments, and belonging to one of the most respectable families of
Washington, was also confined here for two months.
Mrs. M. A. Onderdonk, who sometimes represents herself to be a widow and sometimes a wife, was arrested in
Chicago some months since, and after being confined here six weeks, was released on parole.
Forty dollars were given her to pay her expenses back to
Chicago, but instead of going there, she went to
New-York.
She was last heard of at
St. Louis.
An English lady,
Mrs. Elena Lowe, who was arrested at
Boston, and whose son was with her, having come with a commission in the rebel army, has also been confined in this institution.
The son was afterward sent to
Fort Warren, and she returned to
England.
Beside the above, there were some eight or ten persons arrested at
Alexandria and in this city, whose names are not remembered, and who, after being confined at this prison, were shortly afterwards liberated on taking the oath of allegiance.
Miss Ellie M. Poole, alias
Stewart, was arrested an brought to the prison on the 11th of August, 1861 She came from
Wheeling, where, after having been confined for some time in the prison there, she made her escape by tying the sheets together and letting herself down from the prison window.
She has been in communication with the rebel leaders in
Kentucky, advising them to make certain changes in their plan of operations.
When arrested the second time, within ten miles of the enemy's lines in
Kentucky, $7500 of unexpended money, furnished by the rebels, was found upon her person.
She has been a correspondent of the
Richmond Enquirer and the
Baltimore Exchange.
Miss Poole is yet in confinement in the Sixteenth-Street Jail.
Among the number yet confined here is
Mrs. Baxley, formerly a resident of
Baltimore.
She was arrested on the 23d of December.
She had just come from
Richmond, and had been in conversation with
Jeff. Davis, from whom she had obtained a commission in the rebel army for her lover,
Dr. Brown.
She is, as she represents herself, a very “explosive” woman, and it was from this fact that her arrest took place on board the boat, while approaching
Baltimore from
Richmond.
This woman has refused to sleep under a blanket marked “U. S.”
ever since her confinement here.
The above is a hurried sketch of the prisoners liberated and now confined in the Sixteenth-Street Jail.
Their quarters are of the most comfortable character, and under the care of
Lieutenant Sheldon, they are furnished with everything that, saving their “Secesh” principle, can make them happy.
The report that the cake sent to
Mrs. Greenhow on New-Year's came from
Mrs. Douglas, to whom
Mrs. G. sustains the relationship of aunt, is a mistake.
The
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cake was sent by a party well known to the
Government, upon whom a strict watch is kept.
To-day the three last-named persons will probably be sent to the jail on old
Capitol Hill — an escort of the
Sturgess Rifles, under command of
Lieutenant Sheldon, being prepared to accompany them.
There was the same patter of nimble feet overhead when we left the prison.
At the windows, from the outside, we saw the face of
Mrs. Greenhow, standing within the room above.
Our voices had been heard in the room beneath, we know, and even the musical tones of the piano, that had been performed upon during our presence.
There may have been a memory of other days recalled by these signs of festivity, and the hearts of some above may have beat with a quicker pulsation at the thought of the circumstances that now surrounded them.
Who knows but what then and there there were heart-strings that were almost snapped asunder, and that there were consciences that sunk beneath the weight of ignominy imposed upon them?
