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fices, locally known by the names of the Old Capitol and the Carroll buildings, and were situated, the first, on the corner of Pennsylvania avenue and East First street, and the other on the corner of Maryland avenue and East First--a block apart, and both facing the Capitol building and East Capitol Park. The Old Capitol was so named from having been the temporary meeting-place of both Houses, I believe, after the destruction of the Capitol buildings by the English under Ross, in the war of 1812, and the other from its having been the property of the Carroll family, descendants of him of Carrollton-vide the signatures to the Declaration of Independence. Of course the use to which they were devoted in the late war was far enough from that for which they were originally constructed, and, in fact, in their earlier and better days, they earned, historically, a higher reputation than many more pretentious Washington edifices. The Old Capitol, especially, after its abandonment by Congres
act, in their earlier and better days, they earned, historically, a higher reputation than many more pretentious Washington edifices. The Old Capitol, especially, after its abandonment by Congress, was occupied as a fashionable boarding-house, and was largely patronized by the creme de lac creme of the Southern dwellers in Washington. The great original nullifier, Calhoun, boarded here, and from out its doors went the gallant, but ill-fated, Commodore Decatur, the morning he met his enemy, Barron, at Bladensburg, in the duel that cost him his life. No brick walls, old or new, in the capital, have shut in stranger episodes and vicissitudes of life than these, and, I doubt not, each of its four stories could many a tale unfold worthy special record of life at our National Capital in those comparatively primitive days. At the breaking out of our civil war they were not occupied, having, for lack of care, fallen into that neglected, down at the heel, slipshod condition of many buildin
disposition, she could have been dangerous had she possessed equal good sense and. good judgment. I believe the extent of the damage she inflicted on the Northern cause was in tempting from his loyalty a subordinate officer of the navy, whom it was affirmed she married. He also found his way to the prison, from which he dictated a challenge to the editor of the Washington Star, for some rather scornful allusions to himself and wife. They were both light weights in the profession. Mrs. Baxley was a woman of far different character-educated, remarkably intelligent and cultivated, and with a steady courage any man might envy. She was a shrewd plotter of mischief to the North, and utterly fearless in its execution. Her intense hatred of a Yankee, with her whole-souled devotion to the Southern cause, often impelled her beyond the line of propriety and discretion, even to the verge of the ridiculous-never, however, to the peril of the cause she loved. The first time my attention
Junius Brutus Booth (search for this): chapter 38
he Old Armory. The murder of the President brought many unexpected guests to the prison, among whom I remember Junius Brutus Booth, a brother of Wilkes Booth; John S. Clarke, the renowned comedian; Mr. Ford, of Baltimore, owner of Ford's Theatre escape, and many others supposed to have possible connection with, or knowledge of, the assassination. I gave to Junius Brutus Booth the knowledge of the death of his brother Wilkes, and the circumstances attending it, to which he sadly and sorrowst Marshal, Colonel Ingraham, to deliver them at Carroll Prison, and it was surmised and believed that the prisoners were Booth and an accomplice. Instantly, they were followed by a crowd that rapidly increased in numbers and fierceness, till it seeets and alleys — not one being killed, and but few wounded with the bayonet. The prisoners, I need not add, were not Booth, or connected in any way with his crime, but they barely escaped with life. The number of prisoners in Carroll, as I
Wilkes Booth (search for this): chapter 38
m the Old Capitol, to which she never returned, having been tried, condemned, and executed at the Old Armory. The murder of the President brought many unexpected guests to the prison, among whom I remember Junius Brutus Booth, a brother of Wilkes Booth; John S. Clarke, the renowned comedian; Mr. Ford, of Baltimore, owner of Ford's Theatre, in Washington, where Lincoln was shot; Dr. Mudd, who set the broken limb of the flying assassin, and who repented therefor in the Dry Tortugas; Spangler, the stage carpenter, who held a ready saddled horse at the back door of the theatre for Booth's escape, and many others supposed to have possible connection with, or knowledge of, the assassination. I gave to Junius Brutus Booth the knowledge of the death of his brother Wilkes, and the circumstances attending it, to which he sadly and sorrowfully answered, Poor, misguided boy. On the night of the murder of Lincoln there were eight hundred rebel officers in Carroll Prison, and I need hardly
Belle Boyd (search for this): chapter 38
ever, was affected by the shock, and not long after he was shot and killed by one of the guards while attempting another escape — an attempt like the one above narrated, which no sane person would have dared, and the poor fellow met the very fate he so madly strove to escape. Of the secret agents or spies in the service of the rebel government, there were some who achieved notoriety at least, and they were well represented at the Old Capitol, both male and female. Among the latter was Belle Boyd, who left the impression with those with whom she came in contact of a woman governed more by romance and love of notoriety than actual regard for the Southern cause. Undeniably good-looking, with a fine figure, and merry disposition, she could have been dangerous had she possessed equal good sense and. good judgment. I believe the extent of the damage she inflicted on the Northern cause was in tempting from his loyalty a subordinate officer of the navy, whom it was affirmed she married
John Brown (search for this): chapter 38
ently did not admire. However, nolens volens, Brown was and must be his room-mate, as the crowded ys he manifested a friendly disposition toward Brown until he succeeded in winning his confidence. after a visit to the prison yard, he informed Brown that he had overheard the colonel commanding the prisons giving orders preparatory to his (Brown's) execution by shooting, to take place the nextng. Believing this absurd tale, the effect on Brown was terrible, and so thoroughly was he frightehe impending doom. Escape! it was heaven, and Brown listened with an eager ear to anything that prg it, and he was free. And the half-crazed Brown agreed. Taking up one of the floor-planks, abr midnight rounds. Bidding his mate good-bye, Brown slowly emerged from the window on his hands and frightened, fled the length of the yard, and Brown, unhurt, sprang to his feet and dashed in headrolina, Governor Letcher, of Virginia, and Governor Brown, of Georgia, were, for a few months, recip[2 more...]
e use to which they were devoted in the late war was far enough from that for which they were originally constructed, and, in fact, in their earlier and better days, they earned, historically, a higher reputation than many more pretentious Washington edifices. The Old Capitol, especially, after its abandonment by Congress, was occupied as a fashionable boarding-house, and was largely patronized by the creme de lac creme of the Southern dwellers in Washington. The great original nullifier, Calhoun, boarded here, and from out its doors went the gallant, but ill-fated, Commodore Decatur, the morning he met his enemy, Barron, at Bladensburg, in the duel that cost him his life. No brick walls, old or new, in the capital, have shut in stranger episodes and vicissitudes of life than these, and, I doubt not, each of its four stories could many a tale unfold worthy special record of life at our National Capital in those comparatively primitive days. At the breaking out of our civil war th
he coming of assistance; but, compelled at last to either give up their trust or to attack, they suddenly deployed as skirmishers, and, with leveled bayonets, sprang forward at the word of command upon the rioters, who, dismayed and surprised, fled down the streets and alleys — not one being killed, and but few wounded with the bayonet. The prisoners, I need not add, were not Booth, or connected in any way with his crime, but they barely escaped with life. The number of prisoners in Carroll, as I said before, at this time, was the most serious test of its capacity, and was the result of some difficulty in obtaining speedy transportation for them to the prison depots further North and West. Many friends of the Southern officers confined here came to see them, and, in all cases, so far as my knowledge goes, were permitted to see them, and provide them with much-needed comforts; and, more than that, I allowed, in one case at least, a young major, who met here for the first time
John S. Clarke (search for this): chapter 38
n first sent to the prison was not supposed to be guilty of anything very serious, or that could involve a risk to her life. Her daughter was her frequent visitor, and always was permitted to see her. At her trial she was removed from the Old Capitol, to which she never returned, having been tried, condemned, and executed at the Old Armory. The murder of the President brought many unexpected guests to the prison, among whom I remember Junius Brutus Booth, a brother of Wilkes Booth; John S. Clarke, the renowned comedian; Mr. Ford, of Baltimore, owner of Ford's Theatre, in Washington, where Lincoln was shot; Dr. Mudd, who set the broken limb of the flying assassin, and who repented therefor in the Dry Tortugas; Spangler, the stage carpenter, who held a ready saddled horse at the back door of the theatre for Booth's escape, and many others supposed to have possible connection with, or knowledge of, the assassination. I gave to Junius Brutus Booth the knowledge of the death of his b
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