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

by James J. Williamson

A day or two after this, Phillips was going into the office to pay the clerk, Mr. Drew, for a pair of spectacles, when Wood, who was in the office at the time, called out to him in a rough manner, and Phillips went out and closed the door. When he got to his room a guard came up and took him to the guard house, from which he was only released to-day. Wood said he had not intended to keep him there so long, but had forgotten him.

How faithfully does history repeat itself. How many unfortunates have been arrested, thrown into prison, and their accusers having accomplished their object in placing them in durance, cared no more about them, and their jailers were totally indifferent in the matter. Wood said the principal cause for his punishment was the indifference with which Phillips appeared to treat him.

Sunday, Feb. 22.—I was told there are over five hundred prisoners here now. When those in our room were counted last night there were found to be thirty-four. A number of fresh fish have been brought in since my return.

Sixty-two prisoners were brought here from Camp Chase. Some have been imprisoned for fifteen months. About twenty of them have no charge against them except refusal to take the oath.

Goldsmith said that while he was in the guard house a Union soldier was put in who was drunk and noisy, and the lieutenant came in, slapped him in the face and kicked him several times.

One of my fellow-prisoners is an old gentleman from Virginia, named John B. Hunter. He is over sixty years of age. He is detained without any charge whatever, but as a hostage for a man named Stiles, who has made himself notorious as a spy and detective, and by acting as guide in piloting raiding parties through Virginia. Mr. Hunter was called down last night by Captain Parker, who told him information had been received that Stiles had been released, and that he, too, would be released. That he could leave the prison then or wait until to-day. He has been in prison forty-two days altogether, and his health is now very poor.

Another of my room-mates is John Carr, of Fauquier County, Va.; he is a widower, who was about to be married. As he was journeying on to the home of his intended bride, where all the preparations had been made for the approaching nuptials, he was rudely seized by a scouting party and landed here in the Old Capitol. He has been unfortunate in his matrimonial ventures. He was married to his second wife a few years before the war, and started on a bridal tour through some of the Western States. It happened that the cholera was raging at the time in some parts of the West, and while going down the Mississippi River on a steamboat his wife was suddenly taken ill with cholera and died on the boat. The passengers became frightened and put him ashore with the dead body of his wife at a desolate spot on the banks of the river, at night and in a heavy storm. He was compelled to remain there through the long, dreary night, sitting beside the corpse, holding a blanket over it to protect it from the rain, and keep the wind from blowing away the covering. The splash of the water, the puffing and snorting of the boats on the river, with the shrill blast of their whistles or the bellowing of their signals in passing each other, found an echo in the moaning and shrieking of the angry wind. These mingled sounds to the sad watcher in his lonely vigil seemed a requiem for the dead.

Tuesday, Feb. 24.—Three of the prisoners brought in last Saturday were Italians—Peter Eorio, Raphael Rinaldi and Marco Comastri. They appear to be very intelligent men, and I have derived much pleasure from conversing with them. They have been in this country about three years. Living in the South, and wishing to return to their native country, they asked and received permission from the Confederate authorities to pass through the lines; having first procured certificates to the effect that they were citizens of Italy and as to their intentions. On their arrival in Washington they were arrested and brought to this place.

To-day the Commission appointed to try political prisoners commenced their sittings.

Fourteen prisoners were sent off to-day upon taking the oath. Quite a number have been released lately by so doing. Many of them say they do not regard the oath—that it is unconstitutional, unlawful, and not in any sense binding.[F]