Prison Life in the Old Capitol and Reminiscences of the Civil War

by James J. Williamson

WINDOW IN ROOM 16

Room No. 16 was a spacious room, with one very large arch window opposite the door from which the room was entered. This window was directly over the main entrance to the building on First Street, and in by-gone days it lighted up the former Senate Chamber. In the middle of the room a huge cylinder stove formed the centerpiece, while around and against the walls were twenty-one bunks or berths, arranged in three tiers, one above the other. There were a couple of pine tables, each about five feet long, with a miscellaneous collection of chairs, benches and home-made apologies for seats.

When the building was used as the Capitol, this floor contained the Senate and House of Representatives, but after its abandonment by Congress the floor was cut up into five rooms, now numbered from 14 to 18—No. 16 being the largest. The doors of all opened into a large hall, from which a broad stairway led to the floor below.

After spending a couple of hours in swapping stories and getting better acquainted, the whole party adjourned to their up-and-downy beds.

Sunday, February 1, 1863.—My first night in my new quarters was a very uncomfortable one. An old blanket spread over the hard boards, with a piece of wood morticed in at the head for a pillow, was the bed on which I was expected to sleep. All night the steady tramp of the sentry up and down the hall outside of our room door, with the clanking of arms, the challenging of the guards and the calls of the relief through the night, kept me awake, until at last tired nature gave way and the god of sleep closed my weary eyes. How long I slept I know not, but when I woke it was as if awaking from a troubled dream. I looked around at my surroundings and then lay down again on my bunk, pondering on the events of the past night. After a while I got up and took a wash. There was but little time required for dressing. Soon the door was thrown open and there was a call to breakfast. Being totally unacquainted with the daily routine, I mechanically followed the crowd, without knowing where it would lead me. It led me to the mess-room. It might have led me to a worse place, but it would have been difficult to find.

It was a long, dirty, gloomy-looking room, with nothing in its appearance to tempt the appetite, and the food looked as though served at second-hand. The odor which assailed the nostrils seemed as if coming from an ancient garbage heap. The waiter stood at the head of the long board table, with a handful of tin cups filled with a liquid by courtesy called coffee. He would, with a dextrous twist of the wrist, send them spinning along down the table, leaving each man to catch one of the flying cups before it slid past. Fortunately, the waiter had by practice acquired sufficient skill to enable him to shoot a cup in your direction without spilling more than one-half of its contents. With this was served a chunk of beef and a slice of bread. The beef was left untouched by those who had the privilege and the means of providing their own food, but the bread was good, and a generous slice. I saw my companions slipping their quota of bread under the breasts of their coats, and I did the same.

After a half-hour’s recreation in the prison yard, we went back to our rooms and were locked in. In our room a table was spread and we had breakfast of ham, sausage, bread, butter and tea.

Room No. 16 faces the east front of the Capitol, and by standing or sitting back a short distance from the window we can look out and see the passers-by. No persons, however, are allowed to show any signs of recognition. If a person is seen loitering in passing the prison, or walking at a pace not considered satisfactory by the guard, he soon receives a peremptory command to “pass on,” or, “Hurry up, there,” and if this warning is not heeded the offending person, whether male or female, is arrested and detained.

This morning, two gentlemen walking down on the opposite side of the street, looked across and smiled. One of my room-mates raised his hat and bowed. One of the gentlemen did the same. Immediately we heard the sentry under the window call out: “Corporal of the guard, Post No. 1,” and an officer coming out, the person was pointed out, with the remark, “That man bowed over here.” A guard was instantly dispatched after him, and he was brought over, but was released in a short time.