CALM AND CALAMITY

297

W ith Captain Meigs out of the picture, Walter’s professional life

returned to normal. He was not

acquainted with William B. Franklin but believed

their relationship could only be an improvement

over the past. Work on the dome could now resume

and the extension could proceed under agreeable

circumstances. Yet, just as peace in the office was

restored, ominous clouds of war were getting

thicker. Hotheads on both sides of the slavery issue

fired the rhetoric to the boiling point and prospects

for the nation’s future were looking ever more bleak.

Just as the Capitol extension office entered an amicable period, belligerents north and south were

careening headlong into a fratricidal bloodbath.

Captain Franklin of the Corps of Topographical

Engineers came to Washington in the fall of 1857

to serve as the army secretary of the Lighthouse

Board, a bureau of the Treasury Department.

Franklin was on the board for a year and a half

before going to Illinois to investigate a damaged

bridge over the Mississippi River.1 He returned to

Washington just as the troubles between Meigs and

the secretary of war reached the breaking point.

On October 31, 1859, Floyd asked Secretary of the

Treasury Howell Cobb to relieve Franklin so he

could take Meigs’ job. Franklin regretted the circumstances that brought him to the Capitol, believing that the secretary of war had treated Meigs

badly. Like most people in Washington, he was well

aware of Floyd’s glaring faults, his lack of integrity,

and unscrupulous political practices, and Franklin

feared that his own reputation would become

tainted by a close association with him. Yet the

appointment brought welcome prestige to his

career and his corps. “The change is pleasant in one

respect,” Franklin wrote, “that it shows to the other

Corps that they are not the only people in the Army

who can do things, and that their clay is not entirely

superior to that of which other men are made.” 2

For his part Meigs was concerned about Franklin’s

untested political instincts and worried that he was

unaware of the many dangers surrounding the job.3

Yet Franklin was not a total stranger to the ways of

the capital city. When he was ten years old, his

father had been elected clerk of the House of Representatives, serving five years until his death in

1838. As an adult, Franklin and his wife had lived

among the city’s military and social elite for more

than two years before he was placed in charge of

the Capitol extension and new dome.

On November 3, 1859, Walter met Franklin for

the first time and spent several hours discussing

business with him. After the meeting, Walter wrote

a hasty note to Rice giving word of his initial

impression of the new supervising engineer:

I find him as far as I can now judge, every thing

that could be desired; he is kind, affable, gentlemanly, liberal in his views, and determined

CHAPTER NINE

Marble Cutters (Detail)

1860
298 History of the United States Capitol

not to interfere with any body’s rights or immunities. Our interview was cordial, and perfectly

agreeable and satisfactory in every particular.

—What a contrast with the scamp that preceded him!4

The first topic of discussion was the unresolved

matter of column shafts. They agreed to prepare a

statement asking Congress to allow monoliths of

Italian marble or to let the shafts be made of four

or five pieces of American marble. Work on the

dome—work that had been stalled for a year and a

half—was the second topic. The change of command liberated a tall stack of drawings from Walter’s office, where they had piled up during the

conflict. Under Meigs’ regime photographic copies

of each drawing would have been sent to the usual

foundries to solicit bids. But with so many drawings calling for so many castings, bidding each one

separately would entail a great deal of work and

waste more time. Either Walter, Franklin, Floyd, or

(more likely) Charles Fowler suggested that the

entire project be placed under a single contract to

expedite matters. Fowler’s firm, the Janes, Fowler,

Kirtland Company of New York (successor to Janes,

Beebe & Company), was prepared to cast, deliver,

and install all remaining iron for the dome at a fixed

price. Still in Washington and still adept at stirring

up trouble, Meigs got wind of the scheme and

claimed that it was illegal to award such a contract

without competition. Annoyed, Walter hoped the

army would ship his adversary to a faraway post

and leave him in peace. Grumbling to Rice, Walter

wrote: “Meigs is still about poisoning everybody he

can. I wish they would send him to Pekin [sic] to

teach the celestials how to make forts.” 5

A month after Franklin assumed his post at the

Capitol, the first session of the 36th Congress

began. Over the preceding summer and fall, the

nation’s attention had been focused on two exciting events. Stephen Douglas returned to the Senate following a closely watched election in Illinois,

where he was challenged by a former one-term

congressman named Abraham Lincoln. The election was decided on the issue of the treatment and

expansion of slavery in the territories and brought

Lincoln into the national spotlight. Another exciting development occurred just three days before

Congress met: the fanatical abolitionist John Brown

was executed for his ill-fated raid on the government arsenal at Harper’s Ferry. The raid was part

of a plan to instigate a massive slave revolt. Lieutenant Colonel Robert E. Lee led a detachment of

marines to capture Brown, whom some considered

a madman best committed to an insane asylum. His

death by hanging produced another martyr for the

abolitionist cause.

Members of the House gathered in their vast

new chamber on December 5, 1859, to begin what

turned out to be a protracted process of electing a

Speaker. The desks and chairs had been removed

from the room and curving benches installed in

their place. The alteration was ordered at the close

of the previous session as an experiment to help

those who found it difficult to hear. The problem

was not acoustics, but rather the sheer size of the

chamber, which put great distances between members. Contracting the seating by eliminating the

desks and chairs was considered a practical way to

bring individuals closer together so they could hear

each other. Seated on the new benches, members

began to vote for a Speaker soon after the session

opened. It took forty-four votes, cast over a twomonth period, finally to elect William Pennington

of New Jersey, who was serving his first and only

term in the House of Representatives. With no congressional record on slavery, or any other issue, to

make people angry, Pennington’s main qualification

was a lack of enemies.

Walter watched from the sidelines as the Senate appointed members to the Committee on Public

Buildings and Grounds. Two of his personal friends,

Daniel Clark of New Hampshire and James Doolittle

of Wisconsin, were named to the committee, as was

Anthony Kennedy of Maryland. Jesse D. Bright of

Indiana was appointed chairman. Walter felt that

the committee would be in favor of using Italian

marble for the exterior columns, reasoning that his

friends would be loyal to him, their friend from

Maryland would be loyal to them, and the chairman

“will do anything [Jefferson] Davis wants and Davis

is crazy for Italian.” 6 But regardless of the committee’s disposition towards authorizing Italian marble,

the secretary of war was still very much opposed to

the idea. Only American marble would do, and it

would be particularly attractive if it could be bought

from a southern Democrat.

Despite Walter’s preference for Italian marble,

the firm of Rice, Baird & Heebner was never

allowed to submit a sample of foreign stone for

consideration. Instead, the company submitted six
Calm and Calamity 299

specimens of American marble for the Capitol’s

outside columns. Four were from Vermont (Rutland, Danby, and two from Dorset Mountain), and

one each was from Baltimore County, Maryland

and Dover, New York. Franklin tested the samples

and reported that none was strong enough nor

did any of the quarries have enough stone to fill

the order.

Another marble merchant, John F. Connolly,

wrote the secretary of war about the loss he suffered when the president stepped in and put a

stop to his contract. Six months had passed since

Floyd ordered Meigs to purchase the column shafts

from Connolly (at $1,550 per block), which had

led him to build a spur from his quarry near Baltimore to the Northern Central railroad. He undertook the investment based on his belief that the

government was ready to buy his marble. Contrary

to Walter’s steadfast preference for Italian marble

shafts, the secretary of war now ordered Franklin

to take the necessary steps to purchase 100 blocks

of Maryland marble from Connolly. A few days later

Franklin responded in a letter spelling out his objections to the order. The letter was brief and polite,

but by questioning the legality of the department’s

action the captain was bound to remind his superiors of Meigs and his meticulous ways. Franklin

doubted the legality of the order because Rice &

Baird’s contract had not been annulled, there was

no money (yet) to pay for the marble, and there

was some ambiguity regarding Connolly’s price.

Franklin was also under the impression that if Rice

& Baird forfeited that part of their contract dealing

with columns, the remainder of their contract would

be voided as well. The supply of Lee marble would

come to a halt and another marble would be used to

finish the outside of the extension.

Floyd was not happy with Franklin’s letter. He

wished the supervising engineer had spoken up

earlier and in person, without resorting to a formal

letter of protest. “Such a procedure would have

been more in harmony with the cordial relations

heretofore subsisting between us,” Floyd wrote,

“and in more strict conformity to the peculiar

rights and duties which are prescribed by our

official positions.” Each of Franklin’s points was

addressed in a tone and manner that conveyed the

secretary’s displeasure. As to the illegality of the

order, Floyd was quick to pull rank: “I do not deign

to wound your feelings when I remind you that it

is scarcely your duty to decide upon the legality of

my orders. . . . The Attorney General is my legal

adviser, and it is to him that I look when I am

involved in legal doubts.” Discrepancies in the

prices offered by Connolly were dismissed as “too

small to be made an impediment to the accomplishment of so desirable an object.”

Nothing Franklin had written altered Floyd’s

decision to buy marble from Connolly. When made

Exterior Order 

by Thomas U. Walter, 1854

Typical of Walter’s fine draftsmanship, this drawing illustrates the elements, 

proportion, and dimensions of the Capitol’s exterior Corinthian order. Unlike those on

the old building, the extension’s column shafts were fluted.
300 History of the United States Capitol

aware of the matter, President Buchanan agreed

that the secretary’s order was probably illegal but

he was too weak to act. He simply let well enough

alone.7 In one last protest, the firm of Rice, Baird &

Heebner wrote the secretary to complain that the

proposed deal violated its contract. Among other

injustices, the partners pointed out that their offer

of $1,400 per shaft was a lower bid than Connolly’s

offer by $150 apiece. Floyd dismissed the protest,

citing the firm’s failure to deliver the shafts as the

reason for which the government was forced to

look elsewhere. Considering the “procrastination

and delay,” he thought that Rice, Baird & Heebner

was being let off the hook in a most lenient fashion. On March 20, 1860, Floyd issued an order to

purchase 100 monolithic shafts for $1,550 each.

Four days later, the House Committee on Expenditures in the War Department declared Floyd’s

action illegal because it placed an order with a contractor before there was money in the treasury to

pay for it. Floyd’s order was also found to be in violation of the government’s contract with Rice, Baird

& Heebner. The committee reasoned that to buy

Connolly’s marble through Rice’s firm would save

the government $15,000. It upheld each of Captain

Franklin’s objections, yet Floyd was not forced to

take corrective measures for nearly three months.

In the Civil Appropriation Bill of 1861, approved on

June 25, 1860, the War Department was formally

directed to purchase Connolly’s marble through

Rice, Baird & Heebner. In a last-minute move Congress foiled Floyd’s efforts to sidestep the marble

contractor and enrich a person who was undoubtedly a political supporter.

Even before Congress passed its directive,

Rice, Baird & Heebner had delivered the first four

blocks of Connolly’s marble to the Capitol. There

were eight more blocks at the quarry ready to be

Marble Delivery 

1860

One of the first column shafts from Connolly’s quarry

arrived at the Capitol on June 15, 1860. It came to

Washington by railroad and was pulled on carriages

from the station to the Capitol by a team of horses.

Marble Cutters

1860

Strong-armed masons transformed rough blocks of

Maryland marble into perfectly shaped and fluted column shafts, working under canvas tents that protected

them from sun and rain.
Calm and Calamity 301

put on railroad cars and transported to Washington. The appearance of the marble greatly annoyed

Walter, who did not think it fit for such a grand

building.8 Provost & Winter’s workmen dressed the

stones in tents put up to protect them from the

sun. (But the tents did not protect pedestrians

from the danger of flying spalls propelled by the

hammers and chisels wielded by strong-armed

masons.9

) It took about 114 working days to boast,

cut, turn, and smooth each shaft. About the same

amount of time was necessary to flute it, and seventy-eight days were needed for rubbing and polishing. It cost $728 to transform each rough block

into a perfectly shaped and fluted shaft, while an

additional $242 was allowed the contractor for setting it in place and for profit.10 Thus, from the

quarry to the Capitol, each column shaft cost

$2,370 installed.

DOME CONTRACT

W hile Floyd’s handling of the marble

business was unethical, it illustrated the War Department’s freewheeling approach to its business affairs and the

administration’s willingness to use contracts to satisfy political ends. A contract with Janes, Fowler &

Kirtland to complete the dome also had legal questions, but it resulted in enormous savings of time

and money.

The contract to finish the dome came about

in an unusual manner. On December 1, 1859, Captain Franklin wrote Janes, Fowler, Kirtland &

Company asking for a bid on the dome’s skin.11 A

similar letter was sent to J. M. Reed, president of

the Architectural Iron Works in New York. His letters also asked about prices for pieces of the

framework delivered and ready to install. These

were Franklin’s first communications with

foundries and the first orders in fourteen months

for the dome’s ironwork.

The day after they received Franklin’s letter,

Janes, Fowler & Kirtland offered to cast and deliver

the skin of the outer dome for four and a half cents

per pound and to install it for one and a half cents

per pound. The trusses would cost three cents a

pound if all the staging and hoisting apparatus were

supplied by the government. Having answered

Franklin’s questions, the firm unexpectedly proposed to execute all remaining work—both casting

and installing—for seven cents a pound saying:

We have examined the plans for the dome, and

we find the design of what remains to be done

above the work now being put up, is so dependent, the one part on the other, that it forms a

whole that cannot well be divided; and the

frame-work and the skin bear such relations to

each other as to make it important that both

should be made in the same shop; our experience in what we have already done, proves to

us the advantage to government as well to the

mechanics, of having all the work done at the

same establishment; we therefore propose to

execute all that remains to be done to the dome,

including the putting up of the entire work,

exclusive only of staging and hoisting, as before

expressed, for seven cents per pound, (7¢).12

Franklin forwarded the voluntary proposal to

the secretary of war, who replied that, since the

offer relieved the government of considerable

work and responsibility, accepting it would be

“true economy.” Unfortunately, the department

did not have the authority to accept the offer

because there was not enough money appropriated to finish the dome. But if the company understood the situation and was agreeable, Franklin

was authorized to buy all remaining ironwork for

the dome from Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company for seven cents a pound.13

As soon as Floyd accepted the offer without

opening the work to competition, he came under

pressure to reverse the decision. Through Senator

Davis, Meigs stirred up the matter in Congress,

saying that Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company

actually offered to finish the work for six cents but

somehow got a penny more through Floyd’s

shenanigans.14 Walter advised the ironworkers to

include scaffolds and hoisting in their bid to help

calm the growing storm. This was done and, despite

Meigs’ best efforts, congressional grumbling died

down. After small matters were resolved during

the next few weeks, the agreement was approved

on February 15, 1860.

The dome had risen to 129 feet above the

ground when Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company

took responsibility for erecting the rest. Walter

welcomed the deal and had worked diligently

behind the scenes on its behalf. Yet, soon after the

contract was signed, he found the contractor’s own
302 History of the United States Capitol

diligence to be noticeably lacking and was obliged

to plead that more men be put on the job:

I sincerely wish you would greatly increase

your force on the Dome—you are suffering in

public estimation by the slowness with which

the work goes on, and I shall find it impossible

to stem the storm of public opinion for you

much longer if stronger demonstrations are not

speedily made—you will observe that the slowness of your progress was one of the subjects of

the Senate resolutions, and if you don’t hurry

up matters very quick you may look for further

action—they are quieted for present, and I

think all trouble over in reference to the Dome,

if you let people see you are in earnest... 15

With the dome rising slowly outside, the art

commission assembled in the Capitol to write its

report. It had been formed on May 15, 1859, when

President Buchanan appointed Henry K. Brown (a

sculptor), James R. Lambdin (a portrait painter),

and John F. Kensett (a landscape painter) as its

members. In June, the three artists met in Washington to organize, inspect the public buildings in

the city, interview Meigs and Walter, and begin formulating recommendations for the future decoration of the Capitol. The commission issued its one

and only report on George Washington’s birthday,

February 22, 1860. After a predictable preface

about the importance of the Capitol and its art, the

commission wrote that, except for the works by

Crawford and Rogers, the money spent on decoration had been “misapplied.” American history was

the foremost subject worthy of the Capitol, they

maintained, yet little history could be found among

the decorations. They were unimpressed by the

replication of European art in the Capitol and

asserted that when foreign artists attempted American subjects the results were far from satisfactory:

We are shown in the Capitol a room in the style

of the ‘Loggia of Raphael;’ another in that of

Pompeii; a third after the manner of the Baths

of Titus; and even in the rooms where American subjects have been attempted, they are so

foreign in treatment, so overlaid and subordinated by symbols and impertinent ornaments

that we hardly recognize them.

Having casually dismissed five years of work by

Brumidi and other artists, the commission proceeded to map out future decorations. The rotunda

was the point of departure. The 300-foot long frieze

intended for sculpture was ripe for didactic material such as “Freedom, civil and religious.” In the

chambers, the subject of the art should be legislative history. Busts of the first two vice presidents

should be commissioned for the Senate chamber,

with James Madison and Fisher Ames honored in

the House with busts or statues. “It is the opinion

of the commission,” they wrote, “that far greater

sobriety should be given these halls in their general effect to render them less distracting to the

eye.” While perfectly appropriate to military uniforms and banners, the gaudy colors were too

diverting for the House and Senate chambers and

should be replaced.

Paintings in the Supreme Court should reflect

judicial history, significant discoveries and inventions should be depicted on canvasses hung in the

corridors leading from the rotunda to the chambers, and lobbies should be decorated with paintings showing scenes of pioneer life. Passages that

were not well lighted should be decorated with

simple flat colors. Stucco ornamentation should be

avoided because of “constant mutilation.” (In any

event, its use was “cheap and showy.”) Affixing

bronze ornaments to doors was cited as another

instance of misguided taste: viewed from afar, the

metal appeared as so many “unintelligible dark

spots incapable of light and shade in themselves.”

If ornamentation was required, the commission

suggested that it should be carved from the same

wood used in the door’s construction.

Most of Meigs’ decorative program was laid

waste in the devastating appraisal by the art commission. Only sculptures by Crawford and Rogers

were spared the blanket condemnation. Their

works were praised as entirely suited to the purposes for which they were designed, and they had

the distinct advantage of being by American artists.

The commissioners hoped that Crawford’s plaster

models, which Meigs had sent to West Point, would

become the nucleus of a national school of art.

After digressing briefly to touch on the importance

of landscape improvements and redesigning the

national coinage, the commission ended its report

with a list of works of art to carry out its recommendations: eight paintings, eight statues, and

two colossal busts, with a total cost of $169,000.

The first and only art commission appointed to

recommend how the Capitol should be decorated

had little effect. Despite the high moral and patriotic tone of its message, the report failed to convince Congress that more or different decorations
Calm and Calamity 303

were needed. In hindsight, it appears that most of

the commission’s appeals to the country’s history—

a summons to honor her past—plainly ignored current conditions. As the cancer of slavery ate away

at the nation, the art commission perhaps saw

patriotic decorations as one way to rekindle a

sense of loyalty, a way to calm passions and restore

national pride.

A MORE CHEERFUL

SENATE CHAMBER

One of the recommendations made by the

art commission was to fill the niches in

the Senate retiring room (modern day

S–215) with $20,000 worth of statuary. Designed

for the exclusive use of senators wishing privacy

and relaxation, the retiring room was one of the

most elegantly finished spaces in the Capitol. Its

walls were lined with Tennessee marble, tall mirrors were positioned opposite windows to maximize light, and white marble Corinthian columns

supported a deeply paneled and carved marble

ceiling. Except for the tile floor, the room was composed entirely of marble. Indeed, it was then (as

now) more commonly referred to as the “marble

room.” Next door was an elaborately painted chamber set aside for the use of the president during

his infrequent visits to the Capitol (modern day

S–216). These rooms ranked high in the roster of

the extension’s great interiors, yet both were

nearly lost in a scheme to relocate the Senate

chamber. On March 19, 1860, Senator John P. Hale

of New Hampshire offered a resolution inquiring

into the cost of moving the chamber to the outside

walls in order to provide the room with windows.

Walter thought the reason some senators

wanted windows was merely for “cheerfulness,” a

chance to admire a view and catch a breath of fresh

air.16 Senator Davis sprang to his feet to object to

the resolution because it asked Walter rather than

Captain Franklin for a report and it also sidestepped the Senate Committee on Public Buildings. Never wanting to give the architect credit for

anything, Davis said that the engineer was surely

“a better constructor than the architect.” 17 Hale

replied that he did not care if protocol directed

the inquiry to the superintendent or the architect,

but he wanted plans and cost estimates in hand

before the question was referred to the Committee

on Public Buildings.

Franklin responded to the inquiry on April 9,

1860.18 Relocating the chamber to the north wall

would cause the demolition of the marble room,

the president’s room, and the vice president’s

office. It would also require reconstruction of half

Senators’ Retiring Room 

ca. 1890

An eclectic collection of tufted furniture, supplemented by a few wooden rocking

chairs and a spittoon, was used to furnish one of the grandest rooms in America.
304 History of the United States Capitol

of the north wing’s interior structure from the basement to the roof. If the interior ironwork were

reused, the cost of that plan would be $165,000.

Alternatively, rebuilding the Senate chamber in the

northwest corner of the wing would cost $200,000

but offered the advantages of having windows on

two sides of the room and saving the marble room.

The president’s room would be sacrificed in either

scheme. Franklin estimated that it would require

two years to rebuild the Senate chamber upon

either plan.

On the afternoon of June 11, 1860, near the

end of the first session of the 36th Congress, the

Senate discussed several matters relating to the art

commission, alterations in the old Capitol, and the

possibility of relocating its chamber. Robert

Toombs of Georgia started the discussion by offering an amendment to repeal all laws creating an art

commission. Senator Davis thought that if the commission were to be abolished, perhaps it was time

to abolish the architect’s position as well. Toombs

did not understand the correlation, which Davis

then explained: “The drawings are already made,

and as there is no appropriation for the building, of

course there is no use for him.” 19 While the senator

from Mississippi was being spiteful, Walter’s friends

were quick to defend the architect and his position. Daniel Clark of New Hampshire argued that if

the architect’s job were abolished the extension

would never be completed. Davis’ reply rehashed

his rather skewed view of Walter’s professional

duties and accomplishments:

. . . after the appointment of the late superintendent, Captain Meigs, the architect, became,

in fact, a draughtsman. He made plans under

Captain Meigs, who was both the constructor

and architect in fact, though he never took the

name. The drawings have now been completed,

and as the present architect failed utterly as a

constructor, as was shown by the report of the

committee, when he was in charge of construction, I do not see what duties he can have to

perform, except to draw his salary. I look upon

it, therefore, as a useless expense. The plans

are complete. Construction is what remains to

be done, not designs.20

Clark had no desire to fight the battle between

Walter and Meigs on the floor of the Senate. He

simply wanted the extension finished and considered Walter the best person to see the work to its

end. If he were dismissed, the job would be left to

Franklin, whom he called “a comparative stranger.”

According to Davis, that argument called for Meigs’

reinstatement. Alfred Iverson of Georgia supported

Davis, saying there was no further need for architectural services and the government would do

well to save the expense of Walter’s salary. “He

came here poor,” Iverson mistakenly said of the

architect, “and now he is rich.” James Doolittle of

Wisconsin declared that the whole question

revolved around Davis’ support for Meigs and

Floyd’s support for Walter. It was an old “misunderstanding,” one that should not be discussed

when an appropriation bill was under consideration. He called for a vote on Davis’ amendment,

which was soundly defeated. By a comfortable margin, Walter had sustained yet another assault from

the powerful Mississippi senator.

The Senate returned to the question of abolishing the art commission. Meigs’ friend, James

Pearce of Maryland, gave a blistering appraisal of

the commission’s labors on behalf of American art.

He thought that its members had little to show for

a year’s work when they wrote their “little report,”

and he was alarmed at their suggestion to spend

nearly $170,000 on new decorations. There was no

call for additional ornamentation at that time and

Pearce did not know what the commission would

do in the future. He had heard a rumor that the

Design for

Removing Senate

Chamber From the

Centre of the Wing

to the North and

West Fronts Per

Senate Resolution

of March 19, 1860

by Thomas U. Walter

1860

The Senate chamber

was only a year old when

the first attempt was

made to relocate it in

order to provide the

room with windows. Of

the several plans made by

the architect, this was

the one preferred by

those who supported the

move. The Senate

rejected the scheme on

June 11, 1860.
Calm and Calamity 305

members of the commission wanted a salary of

$3,000 apiece, desired an office with a messenger,

and had given other signs of wanting a permanent

place in government. For his part, Pearce desired

to see an end to any claim the commission might

place upon the federal purse or public taste.

Toombs’ amendment to abolish the commission

was readily agreed to.

In the next order of business, Senator Jesse D.

Bright of Indiana, chairman of the Committee on

Public Buildings and Grounds, offered an amendment to appropriate $45,000 to convert the old

Senate chamber for the Supreme Court’s use, to

convert the old courtroom on the first floor into a

law library, and to refit other rooms in the old north

wing for the Court’s benefit. John Hale of New

Hampshire questioned the wisdom of proceeding

while the matter of rebuilding the Senate chamber

was still undecided. If that work were authorized,

the Senate would need a place to meet and their

old room seemed perfect. He wished to see the

matter postponed until the other question was

decided. He then introduced legislation to remove

the chamber to the northwest corner of the wing

and to provide $200,000 for the work. In a spirited

rejoinder, Senator Davis defended the room’s position in the center of the wing:

The great object has been to separate the Senate Chamber from exterior noise, and relieve

the deliberations of the body from any confusion which might be outside the Capitol. All

the heating and ventilation have been directed

towards the present location of the Chamber.

To remove it now into a wing, a room which

cannot be made exactly suited to the purpose,

which never can be brought to compare favorably at all with the one in which we are now

sitting, seems to me an idiosyncracy on the

part of the Senator from New Hampshire... 21

With biting sarcasm, Davis continued his

defense of the chamber by inviting Senator Hale

to leave the room any time he wished to gaze out

a window. The Senate would miss his counsel, but

if the matter were so important, then he should

by all means leave and find a window. In Davis’

opinion there was no reason to abandon the present chamber, a room that “must attract the admiration of every one who sees it, and which, in its

acoustic effects, is as perfect as any room of its

size I ever saw.” 22

Senator Hale claimed to have been unable to

hear anything Davis had said. But he remarked

that praise for the appearance of the chamber was

an exercise in personal taste that could not be

debated. Its arrangement, however, was another

matter. He considered the heating and ventilation

so bad and so unnatural that he doubted many

new senators would survive their six-year term in

the room. The Senate chamber, he declared, was

an utter failure. His committee had seen Walter’s

original plan for the north wing with the chamber

located in the northwest corner and noted with

pleasure its similarity to the proposed alteration.

Repositioning the chamber would result in a far

superior room with windows and a smaller gallery.

More than 1,000 people could be accommodated

in the present gallery, which presented too great a

distraction. The proposed alteration would reduce

the seating capacity to 400, a more manageable

number. It would also bring daylight and fresh air

directly into the room.23 When Hale’s motion was

put to a vote, however, only nine senators supported the relocation. While soundly defeated, the

window issue would be revisited from time to time

over the next sixty-five years.

The discussion next turned to refitting the

former Senate chamber for the Supreme Court.

Anthony Kennedy of Maryland, Trusten Polk of

Missouri, and Robert Johnson of Arkansas spoke

against the matter as too expensive. “I am in favor

of fitting up these rooms in [a] very handsome

style,” Kennedy said, “but, for the life of me, I do

not see how it will take $45,000 to do it.” 24 George

Pugh of Ohio decried the Supreme Court’s present location in the “cellar” and hoped the Senate

would agree to the proposed improvement. James

Mason of Virginia thought the only reason to move

the Supreme Court was to give the old Senate

chamber a new use. He declared: “I think we are

somewhat in the condition known to many of us

who have had the misfortune to build a new house.

The difficulty is to know what to do with the old

one.” 25 James Bayard of Delaware disagreed. He

stated it had always been understood that the

Supreme Court would take over the old Senate

chamber and that the old courtroom would be

refitted as a law library. Inadequate space for

books caused inconvenience in the old library

(modern day S–146 and 146–A), and the growing
306 History of the United States Capitol

collection needed better accommodations.

Stephen Mallory of Florida was against the measure simply because he hoped the Senate would

return to its old room. He also thought the money

requested was more than enough to build the

Supreme Court its own building.

The cost of converting rooms in the old north

wing for the Supreme Court was the principal

objection most senators had to the plan. Other

figures were substituted for the original $45,000,

ranging from $5,000 to $25,000. One senator

thought the conversions would require more structural modifications than anyone suspected and

would result in a more expensive project than anyone realized. Robert Johnson thought that it was

not fair to vote so much money for the Supreme

Court when senators were unwilling to vote funds

for their own comfort.26

After almost two hours of discussion and votes

on various matters—abolishing the art commission, sustaining Walter, refusing to relocate the

Senate chamber—a vote was finally taken on

Bright’s amendment to convert the old Senate

chamber into a courtroom. The amount of money

available for the project, including the transformation of the old courtroom into a law library, was

reduced to $25,000 to help make the appropriation

palatable to reticent senators. By a vote of twentytwo to seventeen, the legislation finally passed.

Supreme Court Chamber 

ca. 1900

Minor modifications made in 1860 transformed the former Senate chamber into

a courtroom. A level floor replaced the terraced platform formerly occupied by senators’ desks; the justices’ bench was placed where the vice president’s rostrum had once

stood. The semicircular visitor gallery was also removed.

Law Library 

ca. 1900

In 1860 the Supreme Court’s library moved into the

former courtroom, where it stayed for the next seventyfive years.
Calm and Calamity 307

The House of Representatives went along with

the Senate’s actions. When it debated the appropriation for 1861, a few members worried that some

of the money might be used to further the decorations and wondered about the future role of the art

commission. There seemed to be little support for

the continuation of the commission, as no new art

was envisioned for the foreseeable future. But the

issue gave members an opportunity to express

their opinions about the decorations around them,

which inspired the usual oratorical flourishes. With

eloquence and imagination, Morrison Harris of

Maryland took aim at the work of foreign artists in

the Capitol:

. . . the whole building appears to have been

delivered over to the gross and flashy conceits

of second-rate German or Italian fresco

painters, who have covered the walls of the corridors and committee-rooms with inappropriate

designs of flowers and fruits, Venuses, bacchantes, flying dragons with heads of chicken cocks,

and curious combinations neither human,

divine, mythological, nor allegorical.27

When the votes were counted, the House

agreed to abolish the commission and to limit the

appropriation to the work necessary to finish the

wings: no funds could be expended on paintings or

sculpture. On June 9, 1860, $300,000 was given for

the extension, an unexpectedly large sum considering the state of the treasury.

THE UNION UNHINGED

W ith the political climate more blustery than ever, the first session of

the 36th Congress ended on June

25, 1860. By then the presidential campaign was

well under way and the nation resounded with the

sounds of marching bands, parades, and red-hot

oratory. Democrats met in Charleston to nominate

a candidate, but delegates split over the issue of

federal protection of slavery in the territories. Supporters of the proposition walked out after the 57th

ballot. The convention reconvened in Baltimore,

where Stephen Douglas was nominated. National

Democrats representing the hardliners who walked

out in Charleston reconvened in Baltimore as well,

naming Vice President John C. Breckinridge as 

their candidate for the nation’s highest office. Meanwhile, the Constitutional Union party, a loose confederation of old Whigs and remnants of the KnowNothing party, named John Bell of Tennessee as its

candidate. All would face stiff opposition from the

united Republican party and its candidate, 

Abraham Lincoln of Illinois. He captured the party’s

nod on the third ballot at its convention held in

Chicago in May.

When funds became available on July 1, work

resumed on the extension. During the previous

seven months little was done due to the lack of

money. A few men were employed at the sawmill

getting marble paving ready for the porticoes, but

no work was done on the wings except some routine painting and gilding. Once work resumed, it

again concentrated on the porticoes, and the

boasting, cutting, turning, fluting, and polishing of

column shafts. By the first week in November

1860, sixteen shafts had been delivered and

Franklin reported that their appearance was better than anticipated.28

From time to time, Franklin and Walter took

carriage rides out Bladensburg Road to visit Clark

Plan, Section, and Details of Ceiling of Western Staircase, 

North Wing

by Thomas U. Walter, 1858

Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company received the contract for the ceilings over the 

four public stairs in August 1860.
308 History of the United States Capitol

Mills at his foundry near the Maryland state line.

Mills was a sculptor of considerable renown whose

spirited statue of Andrew Jackson across from the

President’s House was the first equestrian statue

cast in the United States. Teaching himself by trial

and error, Mills cast the work himself in 1849–1852.

Now he was busy casting Crawford’s statue of Freedom for the top of the Capitol’s new dome.

As was the case with most other projects connected with the Capitol during this period, selecting the person to cast the statue was a political

decision. Crawford had wanted to send the model

to the Royal Bavarian Foundry in Munich, where

he expected the casting would be superior to that

available elsewhere—especially in America. A

cargo of bronze would also be safer to ship across

the Atlantic than a cargo of plaster. Earlier, Meigs

had wanted to melt down old bronze cannons to

cast the statue, making it a tribute to military men

and their accomplishments. In 1857, he told Senator Pearce: “I wish to make this great work, not

only an object of national pride as a work of art,

but also a memorial of battles won on sea and land

in the struggle which gained and since maintained

our independence.” 29 Both Walter and Franklin

wanted James T. Ames of Chicopee, Massachusetts, to do the job. Ames had extensive experience casting statues for sculptors and cannons for

the War Department. Clark Mills, however, made

quite an impression on his own behalf by calling

on the secretary of war arm-in-arm with the entire

congressional delegation from his home state,

South Carolina. When Walter learned of the

extraordinary visit, he went immediately to see

Floyd to persuade him that Ames was better

qualified. Knowing that the administration always

looked to appease southern politicians, Walter

informed Ames of the situation and advised him to

counter that influence if he could:

outside pressure (from members of Congress

from the south) was so great as to make it a

very embarrassing question with him [Floyd],

and much as he desired to gratify Capt.

F[ranklin] and myself in the matter he was

afraid that he would have to “give in”. . . . We

have done all we could but our influence is only

professional and that, you know, makes but little show in politics.... Can’t you make some

movement through [the Secretary of the Navy]

Mr. Toucey—he is from your region, and a word

from him to the Secy. of War would be potent.30

The doubts apparent in Walter’s letter were

borne out when the secretary of war ordered

Franklin to draw up a contract with Clark Mills.

On April 8, 1860, Mills proposed to do the work

for $25,000, asking for a $10,000 cash advance.

Thinking the cost too high, Franklin appealed to

the secretary for permission to open the job for

bids, but Floyd would not budge. South Carolina’s

senators and representatives were too powerful to

be toyed with. Franklin was, however, allowed to

negotiate with Mills, and they struck a deal

whereby the government would rent Mills’ foundry

and pay him $400 a month for his professional

services. The government would supply all materials. Despite Meigs’ hope, the bronze was made

from Lake Superior copper and tin bought in New

York rather than obtained from melted cannons.

For every pound of copper used, one ounce of tin

and one half ounce of zinc were added to produce

bronze. It cost about $20,000 to cast the statue

and haul it to the Capitol.

When Franklin finished his 1860 annual report

on November 6, there was little to recount beyond

a description of masons working on the column

shafts and other tasks relating to the porticoes. He

reported that the benches had been removed from

the House chamber and the desks and chairs

restored. While the report was rather uninteresting, that particular day was not. The first exterior

column was set in place on the east side of the

House connecting corridor, and Franklin, a lifelong

Democrat, cast his presidential vote for Abraham

Lincoln. Earlier that year he said that the corruption in the Buchanan administration had turned

him away from the Democratic party and he was

“leaning towards the rail splitter.” 31

While the majority of voters leaned away from

the “rail splitter,” Lincoln won the election by a

wide margin in the electoral college. As soon as

this result was known, the sectional time bomb

that had been ticking for decades finally exploded.

Although Lincoln was not an abolitionist, he

wanted slavery contained. Southern extremists

saw his election as the perfect time to break away

from the north and its dominating power, which

threatened their “peculiar institution.” The legislature of South Carolina remained in session during

the election, and when it learned of Lincoln’s victory it called a convention to determine the state’s
Calm and Calamity 309

course. Even before the convention met, South

Carolina’s senators began to withdraw from Congress. On November 10, 1860, Senator James

Chestnut withdrew, followed by James H. Hammond the next day. When South Carolina seceded

on December 20, her six representatives in the

House withdrew immediately. In January, the states

of Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, Louisiana, and

Georgia followed suit. On a single day—January

21, 1861—five southern senators, including Jefferson Davis, withdrew from Congress. (While many

politicians were leaving Washington, the lone representative from the new state of Kansas took his

seat in the House on January 20.) The following

month Texas joined the secession movement and

the Confederate States of America was formed in

Montgomery, Alabama. Jefferson Davis was named

its provisional president.

Benjamin B. French, an ardent supporter of

the north, noted in his journal that one of the column shafts being wrought on the Capitol grounds

split on the day that South Carolina left the Union.

He suspected that the accident was actually a terrible omen. Walter, too, was taken by the coincidence, telling Rice that the huge stone “went for

Secession.” He thought everything in the nation

was headed for secession except his colleague

Edward Clark, who had recently gotten married:

“our old friend Clark, . . . he goes in for Union.” 32

Although Buchanan deemed secession illegal,

he also thought the president lacked the constitutional authority necessary to force states back into

the Union. One of the few concrete actions he took

was a reorganization of the cabinet. Secessionists

were rooted out and sent packing. The first to go

was John B. Floyd, whose sympathies with the

secession movement had never been well disguised.

He left Washington on December 29, but not before

sending arms and ammunition south, where he

hoped they would eventually fall into rebel hands.

During the first week in February, Walter

watched the city fill with troops, some of whom

were quartered across from his home on F Street,

NW. He awakened with “drums beating to arms” in

the morning and endured the sound of the bugle

throughout the day. If Virginia seceded, he was

prepared to depart the next day. “I shall leave here

as soon as they begin to burn gunpowder,” he told

one of his adult children, “I don’t like the smell of

it.” 33 He owned a fine lot in the quiet Germantown

Column Shaft Installation 

1860

Among those observing the scene were Senator Jefferson Davis and 

Thomas U. Walter (with hand on hip). These unlikely companions watched as the

fourth and final shaft was positioned on the east side of the House connecting corridor.

The photograph was taken a few weeks before Davis left the Senate when Mississippi

withdrew from the Union.
310 History of the United States Capitol

section of Philadelphia and was in the process of

building a house there. But Walter was not sure he

would live peacefully among “black republicans

who have brought these horrid evils upon us.” Perhaps he would wait out the war in Europe, but

whatever course he took, the future looked grim—

his financial prospects were bleak. He explained

the situation to a close friend:

We have come to the conclusion today that the

country is to be torn asunder, that war and fighting are to be the fashion for the next decade,

and that we shall lose at least $50,000 in this

district alone, and all for an abstraction—a mere

phantom in the brain of northern fanatics—a

thing that don’t concern them, and never did—

they have, however, made it concern me to some

purpose; my wrath against northern aggression

is quite up to the boiling point.

I want to get away from this place; I hate politicians of every stripe with a perfect hatred, and

would like to get out of the din of their degrading strife, but I very much fear that while we

live in this country we are destined to live in

the midst of its tumults and its broils wherever

we may go.34

MEIGS’ RETURN

After Floyd’s departure, the War

Department was run by the postmaster general, Joseph Holt of

Kentucky. Being prone to reverse Floyd’s decisions, Holt recalled Meigs to Washington and again

gave him charge of the aqueduct.35 Since October

1860, Meigs had been detailed to Fort Jefferson on

the Dry Tortugas in Florida, where he had been

banished by the former secretary of war. By February 25, 1861, he was back at the aqueduct and trying to recapture his place at the Capitol. That day

Meigs wrote Franklin a remarkable letter, telling

his friend and fellow army officer that God had sent

him back to Washington so he could install the

statue of Freedom on top of the new dome:

I have always held a firm conviction that, with or

without effort on my part, if God spared my life,

I should place the Statue of American Freedom

upon the Dome of the Capitol; and, having a firm

faith in the justice of God, and in his providence,

which overrules all things great and small, for

good, I believe that I shall yet do this.

‘Finis coronat opus’

To this end I invite your cooperation.36

Franklin was not particularly sympathetic to

Meigs’ candid letter. Despite the former headaches

with Floyd, he was enjoying working at the Capitol

and thought the experience would prepare him for

a future career in civilian life. He neither understood why Meigs wanted to return to the Capitol,

when the Washington Aqueduct gave him so much

to do, nor did he want to give up his own occupation merely to be placed “on the shelf.” 37

Amid the confusion marking the close of

Buchanan’s administration, Secretary Holt replaced

Franklin with Meigs at the head of the Capitol

extension and new dome projects. He took charge

on February 27, 1861, arriving at the office the

next day. Quite unexpectedly, Walter paid him a

courtesy call; he was greeted with growls and

sneers. A description of the unpleasant encounter

was written by Walter the following day:

Under the best advice I called on Meigs yesterday at 121

⁄4 P.M. just 15 minutes after he

ascended the throne (Franklin was present).

Bowing to M. as I entered the room I said ‘good

morning Capt. Meigs, I have called to pay

my respects to you on your reassuming the

charge of the works with which I am connected.’ He looked daggers at me, and gave a

grunt, gnashing his teeth and turned his head

away from me. Not the least discomfited, as

soon as I had finished my address to him, I

turned to Capt. Franklin and pleasantly said

‘and to you Capt. F. I have come to bid good

bye.’ Thus ended the first act. I am not sorry I

did it, tough job as it was.38

Meigs soon wrote Walter a letter dismissing

him from the position of architect of the Capitol

extension. He declared that Walter’s continuation

in office would not promote the public interest and

he therefore had “the honor to inform you that

your services are dispensed with from this date.” 39

Meigs’ letter was written on March 2, 1861, just

two days before Abraham Lincoln took office. Prudently, Walter waited a couple of days before making his reply. On March 5, he wrote to remind Meigs

that his appointment was presidential and that he

therefore was under no obligation to leave office at

the presumptuous order of a mere army captain:

I take occasion, very respectfully to say that my

connection with the public works, which were

placed in your charge during the past weeks,

depends upon the will of the President of the
Calm and Calamity 311

United States, and is in no way at your disposal

as your letter assumes. . . . As your letter has no

bearing whatever upon my official relations to

Government, I decline to recognize the authority it affects.40

Upon receiving this statement, Meigs asked

the commissioner of public buildings to post a

guard at Walter’s office door to prevent him from

removing public property. Commissioner John B.

Blake obliged and Walter took the opportunity to

visit Philadelphia and Germantown while the

administration sorted the matter out. While in

Pennsylvania he attended to some personal business regarding his new house and conferred with

friends to plot his next move. Returning to Washington, the architect regretted that the works were

interrupted by the change in command and noted

that the mood among the workmen was uncertain.

In a letter to Charles Fowler, who had a question

about the dome, Walter wrote:

I can’t give you any information about the Dome

as I have no access to Meigs, and all the clerks,

receivers, messengers, &c &c are frightened

out of their gizzards—Meigs don’t come here

and I don’t suppose he will, until he gets me off

(provided that he can do that thing) he stays at

home and writes and fusses; he is afraid to see

me, for fear I will speak to him as I did the other

day viz, politely; that kind of salutation of mine

almost killed him; I don’t think he would survive another scene of the kind; he turned the

color of the ‘ashes of rose,’ let down his two

ports upon me, and screwed his mouth as

though he had just had a bite of indian turnip—

poor fellow, let him alone and he will soon do

the business himself.41

At the architect’s urging, John Rice and Pennsylvania’s state treasurer, Henry D. Moore, came to

Washington to have a word with their mutual friend

and political ally from the Keystone State, Simon

Cameron, who was Lincoln’s secretary of war designate. “I have my friends all ready to jump on the

Secy. of war as soon as he enters on his duties,”

Walter informed Fowler.42 Unlike former disputes,

this one was settled quickly. Three days after his

Senate confirmation, Cameron issued an order prohibiting Meigs from interfering further with the

architect. The order was issued on March 14, 1861,

and, among other things, illustrated a welcome

decisiveness on the part of the new administration.

Meigs was furious that his order was overturned. He reacted with a long, labored letter to

Cameron that attempted to establish his “official

authority and very sufficient reasons for putting an

end to Mr. Walter’s connection with the public

works under my charge.” 43 He pointed out that

Walter’s appointment was authorized in an appropriation bill passed in 1850 and argued that the

appointment expired when the first appropriation

ran out. He quoted the law transferring the works

to the War Department, placing supervision and

control of the extension in his hands. Despite the

complete and absolute power he held over Walter,

Meigs claimed that he at first found it useful to

keep the architect in office and that he had been

treated with benevolence. Page after page the letter described Walter’s insubordination and

intrigues, his lack of gratitude, and his attempt to

“blacken my character and to rob me of reputation

and position.” But the remarkable thing about

Meigs’ letter was the number of times he quoted

documents supporting his positions that were writDetails of

Construction of

Tholus 

by Thomas U. Walter

1861

Walter drew a plan of the

tholus’s structural elements on what appeared

as a sheet of paper laying

on top of another drawing

showing the same subject

in elevation. Indulging in

artistic exercises such as

tromp l’oeil helped the

architect through the

tough times when Captain

Meigs returned to the

Capitol and attempted to

fire him.
312 History of the United States Capitol

ten by the nation’s premier persona non grata,

Jefferson Davis. Considering Davis’ recent ascension to the presidency of the Confederate States of

America, Meigs reliance on the former secretary’s

authority and opinion was a stunning tactical error.

He delivered the letter personally to the secretary

of war, who was in no mood to read about such

things. Cameron abruptly dismissed Meigs, who

left with his long letter unread.44 At the end of the

episode the only person removed was the watchman outside Walter’s office door.

A week after Meigs’ first letter to Cameron,

he wrote a second one questioning the legality of

the government’s dome contract with Janes,

Fowler, Kirtland & Company. He recited the

chronology of events leading up to the contract,

claiming it was illegally signed without the benefit

of competition. He also claimed that the firm

offered to furnish and install the ironwork for six

cents but received seven cents per pound. In the

first contention Meigs was correct but in the second he was not. Considering the irregularities

marring the agreement, Meigs doubted that any

contract existed between the two parties, and

administering the government’s end of the agreement, therefore, made him uncomfortable.45 He

was also convinced that the price paid the contractor was too high. He admitted that if the work

was advertised it was entirely possible that it

would be contracted at an even higher price—but

at least the contract would be legal.

Walter thought that Meigs was out to ruin his

good friend Charles Fowler and to throw doubt on

Captain Franklin’s reputation. At the heart of the

issue, however, were the legality of the dome contract and the business practices of the previous

administration. Before the War Department could

answer Meigs’ letter, President Lincoln dispatched

him to the Gulf of Mexico to resupply federal

troops at Fort Pickens in Pensacola. (A similar

expedition was headed to Fort Sumter in

Charleston.) Meigs placed his brother-in-law, Captain John N. Macomb of the Army Corps of Topographical Engineers, temporarily in charge of the

extension office during his absence. Meigs left on

April 3 and was gone a month. Having completed

his mission successfully, he returned to a city

gripped by panic and fear. After thirty hours of

bombardment, Fort Sumter had fallen to southern

guns on April 13, 1861. The dreaded War Between

the States had begun. Virginia joined the confederacy on April 17; North Carolina and Tennessee

soon followed.

The day after the surrender of Fort Sumter,

President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 troops to

serve in the army for three months. Many came to

the federal city and occupied the public buildings

and grounds as barracks and camps: troops quartered in the architect’s office made it impossible to

work. At the War Department Walter encountered

men who expected “hot times” but felt that work

on the public buildings would continue. “No body’s

hurt and nothing’s the matter, hence no interference with the public works is necessary,” he was

Union Troops at the Capitol 

1861 

Library of Congress

At the beginning of the Civil War, the U. S. Army occupied the Capitol as a 

hospital and bakery, while as many as 4,000 troops were quartered in every available

room and corner.
Calm and Calamity 313

told. The next day he sent war news to his son,

who had written his father asking for money:

We are here in the midst of war. We expect

every moment the clash of arms around us—

business is at an end. Every hole and corner of

Washington is filled with soldiers; guns are

planted along the Potomac to meet Virginia

when she comes; Harper’s ferry was taken this

morning & blown up. My office is at this

moment while I write filled with soldiers.—The

Capitol itself is turned into a barracks; there

will be 30,000 troops here by tomorrow night.

This is no time for money arrangements—property is valueless—business is dead.46

By April 20, Walter had decided to pack his

family and move to the safety of Germantown.

While his residence was still under construction,

he rented a house and gave instructions to the

landlord for fixing the front porch, building a fence,

and “rat-ifying” the cellar.47 Although it took three

days, he was able to move his wife, three daughters, and young son to Germantown during the

last week in April and return to Washington by the

first of May. His trip back to the federal city was

“unpleasant and tedious.” 48 Rumor that the way to

Washington was clear turned out to be untrue.

Railroads, ships, and hotels were clogged with

people fleeing their homes in Washington and Baltimore. His passage down the Chesapeake was

stormy and the food at his Baltimore hotel was

miserable. At seven o’clock in the morning he was

at the train station, where he found cars crowded

and ticket prices wildly inflated. Upon reaching

Washington, he went to his residence where furniture and 150 boxes of household goods were ready

to be sent north. He rode to Georgetown to arrange

shipment by propeller ship, but due to the general

exodus, the competition for space on ships leaving

Washington was stiff. Gloomy and pessimistic, 

Walter wrote his wife:

Washington is nothing but a military encampment. I am glad you are out of it—Every body

who could get off has gone—half the houses

are shut up. They say that it is the safest place

in the country, but who cares for safety in such

a place as this? —I believe it is safe, but it is

demoralized and business is at an end, I think

a perpetual end. This will never be any thing of

a place again—so I fear.49

The day Fort Sumter fell the Capitol was commandeered by the military. The commissioner of

public buildings “cheerfully” admitted troops into

the building, but he wanted time to ensure the

preservation of its contents.50 In a few days, however, it was overrun with soldiers and supplies,

resulting in the inevitable damage to the building’s

fabric and furnishings. It was difficult to navigate

corridors filled to the ceilings with barrels of flour,

pork, beef, and crackers.51 Bakeries with gas-fired

ovens were set up in basement rooms and under

the terrace. Constructed under the supervision of

Lieutenant T. J. Cate of the Sixth Massachusetts

Infantry, the bakeries were capable of turning out

16,000 loaves of bread each day. Marble mantels

were removed from the rooms and stored in the

tomb long ago prepared for George Washington’s

remains. Soldiers passed bread through windows

to be loaded onto wagons waiting in the courtyards.

Smoke from the ovens wafted through the Library

of Congress’ windows, causing damage to books

and works of art. The Senate chamber was “alive

Troops in the Rotunda

Harper’s Weekly, 1861

At the beginning of hostilities, the Eighth Massachusetts Regiment was

bivouacked in the rotunda while dome construction continued overhead. The scaffold

used to build the dome stood in the center of the room, while cloth covers protected

the historical paintings.
314 History of the United States Capitol

with lice” brought in by filthy soldiers camping

there.52 But the worst conditions were caused by

the woeful inadequacy of the sanitary facilities

used by thousands of troops now living in the Capitol. While apologetic for bringing the subject up,

Walter described the sordid conditions in a letter

to his wife on May 3, 1861:

Several thousands more troops arrived yesterday—the city swarms with them; they say there

are 30,000 here—There are 4,000 in the Capitol, with all their provisions, ammunition and

baggage, and the smell is awful.—The building

is like one grand water closet—every hole and

corner is defiled—one of the Capitol police

says there are cart loads of ____ in the dark

corners; Mr. Denham says in one of the water

closets rooms where he made an attempt to

step in, some 200 at least must have used the

floor. . . . It is sad to see the defacement of the

building every where. These are nasty things

to talk to a lady about, but ladies ought to know

what vile uses the most elegant things are

devoted to in times of war.53

A YEAR’S INTERIM

Despite Walter’s hopes to continue work

during the war, Meigs issued an order

stopping construction at half past

three on May 15, 1861. Only a small band of clerks

was retained to sort through documents, pay bills,

and close the books. Walter gathered personal

papers from his office and wrote Captain Macomb

to say he was leaving immediately for Germantown. Two days later, the secretary of war wrote

Dome 

Construction 

1861

When the Civil War

began, construction of

the dome had reached the

top of the drum’s second

story. During the first

year of the war, the iron

contractor continued

building the dome despite

not being paid for its

labor and materials.

Visible in the foreground are Union troops

and the back of Crawford’s statue of America,

the central figure of

Progress of Civilization

destined for the 

Senate pediment.
Calm and Calamity 315

Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company, advising the

firm not to expect payment for any further work

on the dome until the country’s financial outlook

improved.54 Thinking the matter over, Charles

Fowler and his partners determined that there

was no choice but to continue to hoist and bolt

ironwork on the dome. They had 1.3 million

pounds of iron stockpiled on site, and walking

away from such valuable material would be irresponsible and costly. Instead, the firm decided to

continue building the dome, trusting the government to pay when times were better. A small force

was kept at work throughout the time Janes,

Fowler, Kirtland’s contract was suspended, so that

“the sound of the hammer [was never] stopped on

the national Capitol a single moment during all our

civil troubles.” 55 (Thus, contrary to a popular twentieth-century legend, President Lincoln was not

responsible for the continuation of the dome during the war.)

Despite troubled times, Meigs revived the dormant art program by commissioning a painting for

the western staircase in the House wing. He saw a

study by Emanuel Leutze of a picture representing

westward emigration, which the artist proposed to

execute for $20,000. On May 23, 1861, he forwarded

the proposal to the secretary of war with a recommendation that it be accepted. “It would be a pity to

defer it,” he wrote, “even amid the shock of arms.” 56

Cameron immediately disapproved the suggestion,

as the nation had only a month earlier embarked

upon a war of uncertain duration and cost.

Bird’s-eye View of the City of Washington 

with Capitol in Foreground 

by George Henry Andrews, 1861

The Illustrated London News of May 25, 1861, published this wood engraving 

showing the Capitol at the commencement of the Civil War. Andrews indulged in 

artistic license by showing the Senate portico finished and the House portico 

under construction—a scene that lay four years in the future.
316 History of the United States Capitol

Meigs would not take no for an answer. Ten

days after he was promoted to quartermaster general, he wrote the secretary another letter about

the painting. He saw the project as one way the

government could assure the nation of its

confidence in the successful outcome of the conflict:

The people do not intend to permit rebellious

hands to deface the Capitol, & they probably

would hail with joy such evidence of the determination & confidence of the Government....I

would be gratified, all other expenditures upon

the building having been stopped, to see in this

time of rebellion one artist at least employed in

illustrating our Western Conquest.57

On July 2, 1861, two days before opening of

the 37th Congress, the secretary of war relented

and approved the plan to decorate the staircase

with a monumental painting entitled Westward

the Course of Empire Takes its Way. Leutze was

given two years to complete the work. The New

York Evening Post noticed the irony of proceeding with the Capitol’s decoration during times of

war and wrote sarcastically: “With due respect to

the government and the artist, we think we have

several stern realities to deal with just now, without dabbling in the allegorical.” 58

While Leutze visited Colorado to see Pike’s

Peak and other western landscapes to prepare his

painting, other works of art were being removed

from the Capitol for safekeeping. George P. A.

Healy’s portraits of John Tyler and James

Buchanan were on display in the rotunda when

war broke out and were in danger of being vandalized by angry mobs. Condemned as a traitor, Tyler

was a member of the Provisional Congress of the

Confederacy, and the commissioner of public buildings asked the Speaker’s permission to remove his

portrait—“the subject of so much vituperation”—

to a storeroom.59 The portrait of James Buchanan

was placed in the commissioner’s office “to protect

it from threatened indignity.” 60 As the painting was

Healy’s property, the artist was asked to make

arrangements for its safety.

Walter was in Washington for the opening of

Congress, hoping to interest politicians in the

resumption of work. He also labored alone in the

drafting room preparing designs for the time when

workmen would return. (He found that he could

accomplish much more when not distracted by

assistants.) He daydreamed about the works being

returned to the Interior Department and having a

clerk take care of disbursements while he would

act as the general superintendent. This would

“undo what Jeff Davis did and put things back to

their original status,” he said.61 But the politicians

could talk only of war, and Walter got nowhere

with them or his vision of the future management

of the works. Returning to Philadelphia at the end

of July, he told Alexander Provost that “members

of Congress, without an exception, were averse to

making any move in any way that did not bear

directly on ‘crushing out the rebellion.’” 62

Throughout the summer and fall of 1861, Walter visited or wrote people whom he thought could

help restart the works. While he missed his salary,

he missed his occupation more. (The government

later reimbursed the wages he lost that year.) He

returned to Washington while Congress was in session, went to Harrisburg to see Henry Moore, and

traveled to New York to confer with Charles

Fowler. He was not able to generate much enthusiasm for his cause. One of his few allies in the

matter was Benjamin B. French, whom Lincoln

had reinstated as commissioner of public buildings. French called Congress’ attention to the war’s

effects on the Capitol, the damage caused by the

troops and bakeries, and the boost to morale that

would be felt if the works were continued. He was

not persuaded that saving a little money was worth

the symbolic cost of keeping the works shut down:

“When it is considered that less than one-fourth of

a single day’s expenditure in carrying on the war

would complete the Capitol, can it be that Congress will suffer it to remain an unfinished monument of exultation for the enemies of the Union?” 63

When construction resumed, it was important to Walter that work not continue under the

War Department. It may have seemed obvious

that the War Department had too much responsibility at that particular moment, but Meigs—for

one—did not want the department to relinquish

control. Walter knew that a fight lay ahead but

had faith that most people would see eye-to-eye

with his position. In a letter to Fowler, he spelled

out four compelling reasons to transfer the works

from the War Department to the Department of

the Interior:

1st. The War Department is not the place for

civil works; they are just the things that the

Home Department was originated to take care
Calm and Calamity 317

of; they were put into that Department by the

Whig administration of Mr. Fillmore—just the

place they ought to be, and there they would

have remained, and been completed long ago,

had it not been for that atrocious wretch, Jeff

Davis; it was he who removed them, and it

would be exceedingly graceful for an administration kindred to Mr. Fillmore’s to put them

back again.—2nd. The War Department

expresses itself . . . as desirous to get rid of

them.—3rd. The Interior Department is

desirous to have them; —and 4th. Such a transfer is a virtual resumption of the Public works,

and the moral effect of such a resumption would

be equal in Europe to half a dozen victories.64

In the Senate, the matter of resuming work on

the Capitol extension under the secretary of the

interior was taken up on March 5, 1862. As chairman of the Committee on Public Buildings,

Solomon Foot of Vermont spoke at length in its

favor. Foot made it clear that the proposed transfer was not a reflection of the War Department’s

honesty or capacity, but a simple acknowledgment

that it had more pressing duties. He praised the

new secretary of war, Edwin Stanton of Ohio, who

had replaced Simon Cameron some months earlier. Stanton was a man of “distinguished ability, of

high integrity, of uncommon business capacity,

and of devoted loyalty,” but “has not an hour of

time to give to the direction of this work.” 65 General Meigs was also a “gentleman of a very high

order of talent, of great energy, and of remarkable

executive ability,” but he, too, had no time to dabble in the Capitol works: “His hands are full of

other matters,” Foot rightly declared.

Foot noted that the Department of the Interior had not quite enough to do, while the War

Department had too much work. It was vital to

continue construction because the wings were

suffering from water filtering into areas that

should have been protected by porticoes. It would

cost more in the future to repair the damaged

plaster, ornaments, and paint than to resume work

at the present time. Enough money remained from

unexpended appropriations to fund the work, and

none of the money would be used to buy needless

things like works of art. “We are only asking so

much as is absolutely necessary to protect this

magnificent and costly structure from further and

from lasting injury in consequence of its present

exposed condition.” 66

Senator William Pitt Fessenden of Maine,

chairman of the Committee on Finance and a Meigs

ally, opposed Foot’s proposal. Despite assurances

to the contrary, he took the measure as a rebuke

of General Meigs’ management as well as a waste

of money during wartime. He wanted the Capitol

to “stand as it is, comparatively, until better

days.” 67 And he was decidedly opposed to the idea

that the work might go on under an “eminent architect,” a quarrelsome man whom he thought would

“spend this money when we have no money to

spare.” He continued his defense of Meigs at Walter’s inevitable expense:

General Meigs has not asked to be relieved at

all. He has adopted his policy. The whole thing

is now in charge of men whom he left here

sufficient to take care of what has been done.

If he said that he had no time to attend to it, if

he wanted to be relieved from the superintendence of the work, if the War Department

asked to be relieved from it, it would be a different affair; but they ask no such thing. It is a

movement outside of them, and the movement

comes in connection with this gentleman, who

has been so desirous from the beginning to

control this work, and who has a quarrel with

the War Department from the beginning to end,

and been turned out once or twice; I mean 

Dome Construction 

1862

Slow but steady

progress was made on 

the dome’s cupola during

the first full year of the

Civil War. To the right is

the Botanic Garden’s

Gothic greenhouse

located at the eastern

end of the Mall.
318 History of the United States Capitol

Mr. Walter, the architect. This seems to be a

good chance for him to get control of the work

again. I am opposed to that.68

In response, Senator Foot widened the debate

to include a discussion on the whole subject of

military control of civilian construction projects. It

was a subject that had been aired many times

before, but this time Jefferson Davis’ role in the

matter was sharply ridiculed. The high cost of the

extension, the change in the floor plans that

brought the chambers into the center of each wing,

and the painted decorations were all condemned

as “the military plans, the Jefferson Davis

plans.” 69 While all the old arguments against military control had been heard before, the evocation

of Davis’ name was a useful new tool that Foot

wielded to advantage.

With only three votes against it, the joint 

resolution to resume work under the Interior

Department passed the Senate easily. It was then

taken up by the House on April 14, 1862. Robert 

McKnight of Pittsburgh thought that anyone who

wished to keep the works in the War Department

was only interested in keeping the quartermaster

general happy. “It would seem that this is to be

kept as a nest egg for General Meigs after this war

is over,” he noted suspiciously. McKnight supported

resumption in order to protect the expensive materials that were stored on the Capitol grounds:

The capitals and columns ready to be put up

are every day mutilated by strangers and soldiers who visit the city. They knock off cornices and put them into their pockets to carry

away with them as memorials of their trip to

Washington. I think that all these capitals

ought to be put up. Let us at least pass this

resolution and protect this building, which

has cost us so much, from the inclemencies of

the weather.70

The chairman of the Committee on Public

Buildings, Charles Russell Train of Massachusetts,

acknowledged that opponents of the resolution

saw it “as a blow at General Meigs,” with whom he

had no quarrel. Yet he could not understand why

the superintendent had not taken measures to

protect the extension or to allow the contractors

to continue with the dome. (They were proceeding on their own, but without compensation.) To

delay the completion of the Capitol until the close

of the war, as General Meigs wanted, would mean

that the works would be “rotted down, and that

new ones [would] have to be constructed at an

expense of thousands of dollars.” 71 Train was asked

about projects other than the Capitol and dome

under Meigs’ control, and he replied:

He has control of the water works and the

extension of the Post Office building. Now the

water works will tumble in before this war is

over, and then we will have to begin again

unless the work is transferred from the hands

of General Meigs to those of somebody who

can attend to it. He has a laudable ambition to

distinguish himself by the completion of all

these works. It would be a nice little entertainment for the decline of his life. But in the mean

time are we to suffer loss because he will not

allow Mr. Walter, who has far more judgment

and capacity than General Meigs, to complete

the dome?72

After Train declared his committee unanimously in favor of the resolution, it passed the

House of Representatives with only six members

voting against it.73 President Lincoln approved the

legislation on April 16, 1862, and the secretary of

the interior immediately put Walter back in charge.

For Meigs the transfer of authority was surely a

disappointment, but it also allowed him to devote

his full energy to the critical role of quartermaster

general. For Walter it was a welcome vote of

confidence after a nine-year association that had

degenerated from goodwill to discord.

BACK IN THE OFFICE

C aleb Smith of Indiana, the secretary of

the interior, was given a tour of the

Capitol by Walter soon after the works

were placed under his department. They went all

over the building, from top to bottom, and the secretary seemed surprised and pleased with his new

responsibility.74 After the tour, Walter began work

on a report to the department describing the condition of the Capitol extension and giving an estimate of the cost of finishing it, exclusive of

ornamental and decorative designs.75 A constant

stream of visitors (most of whom wanted work)

interrupted his writing. Walter found visits from

sculptor Horatio Stone, who came armed with a

portfolio of “absurd designs,” particularly annoying.76 Knowing that the report would be scrutinized by everyone in town, he wanted to make it
Calm and Calamity 319

as good as possible; indeed, he told his wife that it

would be the most important document he ever

wrote.77 But this burden notwithstanding, he was

immensely thankful to be back at work. Edward

Clark was back in the office as a superintendent,

Thomas C. Magruder took Zephaniah Denham’s

place as chief clerk, and Benjamin B. French was

made disbursing officer while retaining the job of

commissioner of public buildings. “I feel very

thankful,” Walter wrote his wife, “for the providential turn our things have taken.”

Walter finished his report on May 8, 1862, and

immediately sent it to the printer. He stated that

the only work remaining to be done on the interior of the extension was to lay the marble tiling

in the principal vestibule of the north wing. Trimmings for some openings could not be installed

until the bronze doors were received. Eleven

columns had been raised on the outside (all on

connecting corridors), leaving eighty-nine to be

erected. Twenty-one of these were on hand. Outstanding liabilities for works of art included

Leutze’s painting and the cost of casting three

Plan and Sections of Vestibule of North Wing

by Thomas U. Walter, 1859

The passage leading from the east portico to the Senate chamber was one of the

most elaborate interiors in the Capitol extension. Marble columns with corn leaves,

tobacco leaves, and magnolia flowers blended into the Corinthian capitals were especially elegant and appropriate features. Wall niches were intended to hold busts of

worthy citizens. The pattern of the black and white marble floor was simplified when

it was installed during the Civil War

Senate Vestibule

Despite modern 

elevators occupying the

side aisles, Walter’s

colonnaded vestibule

remains a grand space.

Directly ahead are the

original maple doors at

the entrance to the Senate chamber. A similar

but smaller vestibule was 

provided in the House

wing. (1977 photograph.) Ceiling of Senate Vestibule

Marble columns and beams support the ceiling with

its decorative glass panels. Deeply carved egg-and-dart

moldings outline the ceiling panels. (1977 photograph.)
320 History of the United States Capitol

bronze doors. He reported that there was a balance of more than $345,000 in the treasury in

favor of the extension and estimated that another

$600,000 would be needed to finish the wings.

More than $138,000 was available for the dome,

and that was enough for a year’s work.

Once work resumed, it concentrated on the

porticoes. Five columns were necessary to complete the connecting corridor colonnades, and

these were the first things attended to. As a favor

to Senator Foot, the main portico of the Senate

wing came next. Walter hoped to have it completed

before Congress returned in December, but as the

building season wore on it became clear that such

hopes were unrealistic. Blocks of marble cut on

compound curves to form the groin vaults over the

carriageway were beautifully executed and

installed without incident, but trouble with other

parts of the marble work threatened delay. In October, several column shafts, bases, and capitals sat

on the ground waiting for pedestals. The pedestals

were not huge pieces of marble—just four and a

half feet square and three feet tall—but the quarry

found it difficult to supply them. Walter wrote Rice

saying that it was a sin to leave the columns lying

in the mud merely for the want of pedestals.78

The slow progress on this one portico led the

secretary of the interior to wonder about the wisdom of building all six porticoes called for in Walter’s design. He suggested that the two side and

two west porticoes be abandoned, an idea Walter

called “horrible.” The secretary was also thinking

about ordering shafts made up of pieces of Lee

marble to supplement Connolly’s monoliths. Connolly’s column shafts were not only slow in arriving but some were blemished by deposits of pyrites

that weakened the stone and marred its looks.

Such stones had always been condemned in the

past, but now Walter was more forgiving. He made

a careful examination of each block to determine

the probable danger of the deposits staining the

marble or decomposing. If the danger seemed

slight, he was inclined to approve the suspect stone

in order to avoid delay.79 Despite this liberal policy

Walter was able to install only two of the twentytwo columns on the Senate portico by the end of

November, just before the opening of Congress.

Understandably, war conditions made it

difficult to proceed peacefully on the works. In

late August the second battle of Bull Run sent

Union troops scurrying in retreat to Washington as

the Confederate Army made advances toward the

capital only 35 miles away. On August 29, 1862,

Walter told Provost that rumors were flying that

Chain Bridge had been blown up and that “rebels

are all around us.” 80 Three days later the wounded

were being brought to the Capitol, where more

than 1,000 beds were set up in the rotunda, in 

Senate Portico Construction 

1862

Secretary of the Interior Caleb Smith was among the dignitaries who gathered on

November 28, 1862, to observe the second column shaft being put into place.
Calm and Calamity 321

the old hall of the House, and in the corridors. On 

September 2, the assistant adjutant general

ordered all employees at the Capitol to organize

into an armed company for the defense of Washington. Following the battle of Antietam on September 17, 1862,—the bloodiest day of the entire

war—more sick and dying men were transported

to Washington. This latest wave of war wounded

made working in the building intolerable. The “filth

and stench and live stock in the Capitol” compelled

Walter to remove his office to one of the shops.81

He soon had a cheap frame office building constructed in the east garden, where he and his staff

worked in relative peace and quiet.

With wagons thundering by, the wounded

going in, and bodies coming out, there was scarcely

a place in the Capitol or on the grounds that could

be considered peaceful. French was particularly

annoyed by the livestock that roamed Washington,

damaging public property. To the superintendent

of the metropolitan police he asked that steps be

taken against

the hog, goat, and geese nuisance now suffered

to triumph over all law . . . hogs can not be kept

out of the Capitol enclosure and have done

much damage to the newly painted iron lying

in front of the Capitol ready for the new

dome—so much that it is necessary to renew

the painting where it has been rubbed off or

discolored by the hogs, at more expense than

all the hogs are worth.82

French had good reason to worry about animals rubbing off or “discoloring” the painted ironwork. Shortly before the commissioner lodged his

complaint, Walter estimated that it would take ten

men 600 days to paint the remaining ironwork

using 50,000 pounds of white lead, oil, and drying.

Before being hoisted each piece of iron was

painted inside and out—including the edges—with

pure white lead ground in oil. Once in place, the

joints were puttied and the iron was painted again.

Walter intended to have the entire structure

painted inside and out with two more coats after

the dome was finished.83 James Galway was

awarded the contract to paint the ironwork. His

bid of fifteen cents per pound of paint (which

View of Washington City, D. C. 

by Edward Sache, 1862

This romanticized view of the federal city showed both the Capitol and the 

Washington Monument finished. At the time this picture was drawn, the upper parts 

of the dome were not yet completed; they were in fact never intended to be any 

color other than white.
322 History of the United States Capitol

included brushes, pots, and supervision as well as

$1.75 per day wage for painters) was accepted

over several other offers.84

French was anxious to ready the Capitol for

the opening of the third session of the 37th Congress on December 1, 1862. The building had suffered considerably while occupied by the army as

its bakery, barrack, and hospital, and it would take

time and money to repair the damage. For this

purpose he had been able to secure an appropriation of $8,000 at the end of the previous session,

but the army would not vacate the building until

ordered out by the president. French went to see

Lincoln about removing the bakery and asked to

be shielded from congressional censure if the army

was still using the Capitol when Congress reconvened.85 By the middle of October the soldiers were

gone but the rooms once used as bakeries were in

ruins. All the mantels were missing and no one

could say what happened to them. Chandeliers

had also been torn out and scattered in fragments

over the rooms and corridors. For whatever good

it would do, French scolded the secretary of war

about the army’s “strip & waste” policy.86 French

had the rooms restored, hoping that the “Capitol

may hereafter be left to its legitimate uses, and not

be defaced and disfigured by military occupation.” 87

When Congress returned, it faced, among

more important military matters, two funding

requests from the Department of the Interior for

work on the Capitol. Half a million dollars was

requested for the extension and $200,000 for the

dome. The requests were greeted with little opposition, although Rowland E. Trowbridge, a representative from Michigan, spoke against giving

money while the war was still going on. He thought

that Meigs had the right idea when he shut things

down, and he could see no reason to spend money

on anything but “the crushing out of this wicked

rebellion, and the preservation and restoration of

their government.” 88 Others thought work should

continue but wished to scale back funding. Congress decided that $150,000 was all that the nation

could afford for the extension. Walter noted that

with money left over from previous appropriations

the sum available for 1863 would be about all that

could be used considering the scarcity of workmen. The money for the dome was given without

complaint or discussion. Both appropriations

passed on March 3, 1863.

Walter’s plan for the 1863 building season

sought to accomplish two high-profile objects:

finishing the eastern porticoes and mounting the

statue of Freedom on top of the dome. He wanted

to finish the platforms, carriage ways, and steps;

hoist and set thirty columns; and complete the

entablatures and pediments before Congress

returned. He also wanted to position the statue as

part of the Fourth of July ceremonies and finish

the outside of the dome by the first of December.

His expectations, however, proved unrealistic.

On May 28, 1862, the secretary of the interior

and his wife accompanied the commissioner and

the architect on a ride to Clark Mills’ foundry to

inspect the statue of Freedom. According to

French, the figure was magnificent and the workmanship was “exceedingly well done.” 89 Secretary

Smith accepted the work and provisions were

made to remove it to the eastern garden in front of

the Capitol, where it would stand until the dome

was ready to receive it. Mills instructed Capitol

workmen about the assembly details so that no

mistake would be made when their turn came to

disassemble the statue’s five sections and reassemble them on top of the dome.

While a work of art in bronze would crown the

outer dome, a painted work of art would crown

the inner dome. The painting (covering 4,664

square feet) was conceived when Walter revised

the dome design in 1859. It would appear to hover

over the eye of the inner dome and would be illuminated by sunlight reflected off huge mirrors.

The painting would be lighted differently in morning and afternoon, in winter and summer. Light

and shadow would be in constant movement

depending on the weather and the season. By

night, hundreds of gas jets would illuminate the

work evenly. A great painting seen unexpectedly

through the eye of the inner dome was a breathtaking way to finish off the interior of the new

dome. Only Brumidi could do the job.

On August 18, 1862, Walter wrote Brumidi

asking him to furnish a design for the painting and

to name his fee. After making some preliminary

studies, the artist replied with a description of a

final design: an apotheosis (elevation to divine status) of George Washington ringed by six groups

representing War, Science, Marine, Commerce,

Manufacturing, and Agriculture. The composition

was an imaginative combination of historical and
Calm and Calamity 323

allegorical figures, of classical mythology and contemporary technology, of great men and noble

ideas. It had to be painted, as Brumidi said, in “the

most decided character possible” so that it would

appear intelligible from 180 feet away.90 Because

the fresco was to be painted on a concave surface,

the perspective of the composition also had to be

carefully worked out.

Brumidi asked for $50,000 to prepare the fullsized cartoons and to execute his design. The

architect agreed that there was “no picture in the

world that will at all compare with this in magnitude, and in difficulty of execution,” but thought

that wartime conditions would not justify such

expenditure. Walter asked that the price be lowered and that the artist consider “some sacrifice to

accomplish so great an achievement.” 91 In other

words, Walter suggested that whatever might be

lost financially would be recouped in greater

celebrity. Brumidi immediately reduced his price

to $40,000, hoping it would meet with the architect’s views of economy.92 Walter recommended

that the government accept the offer and pointed

out: “The design is probably the grandest, and the

most imposing that has ever been executed in the

world. . . . The grandeur of this picture, the great

distance at which it will be seen, and the peculiarity of its light will render it intensely imposing.” 93

Walter gave Brumidi word of official approval

on March 11, 1863, soon after Congress passed the

dome appropriation for the year. In a few weeks,

the artist began working on the cartoons using a

full-scale model of the canopy built by the Capitol’s carpenters. By the first week in May, however,

a new secretary of the interior, John P. Usher of

Indiana, questioned the legality of contracting

with Brumidi when there was a prohibition against

artistic decorations. Walter was obliged to send

the new secretary copies of all correspondence

relating to Brumidi and his painting for the dome’s

canopy. He argued that the painting was an inseparable part of the dome’s design and not merely a

decoration. Nevertheless, the secretary suspended

Brumidi’s contract for the Apotheosis of Washington until July. Growing weary of government ways,

Walter told his wife:

The secy. has made an attack on us about Brumidi’s contract, and I have sent to the Dept. all

the correspondence. I suppose he will try to

upset it. Well let him do it; —if he does I shall

resign. I am heartily tired of this small business; I dare not blow my nose without “an

order from the Department.” The said secy.

has never been on the works in his life, and yet

he assumes to manage even the smallest details

of it. This is another source of excitement and

annoyance, but I must fight it through.94

In another instance of meddling for no apparent reason, Usher removed chief clerk Thomas

Magruder from the Capitol extension office and

replaced him with Clement West, one of Walter’s

former apprentices. The change was unannounced

and Walter felt sorry for his former clerk, but he

was happy to have West again in the office. The

secretary then removed B. B. French as the disbursing agent and gave that responsibility to West.

French’s position as the commissioner of public

buildings, however, remained unchanged. The secretary also dismissed Edward Clark, but later

reversed himself at Walter’s request.

By the end of April 1863, Walter was compelled

to face the fact that the statue of Freedom was not

going to be put up on the Fourth of July. He told

Fowler: “our 4th of July frolic is no go.” 95 Fowler’s

man in Washington, John Cuddy, told Walter that it

would be impossible to begin the tholus until all the

heavy ornaments were installed on the cupola.

Installing three ornaments a day, it would take about

forty days to complete that part of the work. Even if

the weather remained fine, the tholus could not be

begun until the first of August at the earliest.

As July 4th approached, Walter decided to

take a few weeks off to visit his new home in Germantown and proceed to Atlantic City for a cool

respite by the sea. It was just as well he did not

have to supervise placement of the statue of Freedom, as the heat of a Washington summer and the

headaches of his office made the prospect of a few

days of mental and physical rest most welcome.96

While in Germantown, he was pleased to learn

from the secretary of the interior that Brumidi’s

contract had been reconfirmed, but the best news

came from Vicksburg and Gettysburg. When he

heard of the decisive Union victories in those

places, Walter took them as signs of the war’s imminent conclusion. “The war news,” he wrote, “is

truly encouraging—The rebellion is on its last legs,

and I doubt not that before Congress meets again,

the Union will be virtually restored.” 97
Yard who regularly got drunk on the job; the Capitol’s own head machinist, Charles F. Thomas, drank

his share with the Navy Yard man. Walter wondered why accidents were not more common and

hoped to find sober riggers in Baltimore.

PUTTING ON 

THE “TRIMMINGS”

W hile Walter worried about the

drinking habits of his workmen,

he learned that the Columbus

doors by Randolph Rogers had arrived in New

York from the Royal Bavarian Foundry in Munich.

The doors would soon be sent to Washington for

installation between the old hall of the House of

Representatives and the connecting corridor leading to the new House chamber. Although Walter

had been opposed to many of Meigs’ decorating

schemes, he was pleased at the prospects of

installing this work in the Capitol. “This door will

324 History of the United States Capitol

Back at his desk after a vacation that had

turned out hot, rainy, and not particularly restful,

Walter noted that the last ornament for the exterior of the dome was put into place on August 22

and the first piece of the tholus was bolted on two

days later. He expected that the structural skeleton of the tholus would take about three weeks to

install, but a shortage of manpower—a common

complaint in wartime—threatened delay. And even

when workmen could be found, it was difficult to

keep them working so high above the ground.

Strong riggers were as susceptible as anyone else

to acrophobia or vertigo, and many simply refused

to go up so high. Some found courage in strong

drink, including a rigger borrowed from the Navy

N. E. View of the United States Capitol, Washington, D. C.

by Henry Sartain, 1863

Published during the darkest days of the Civil War, this view of the Capitol anticipated completion of the great building and the restoration of peace. The artist showed

well-dressed citizens strolling amid a few tranquil soldiers.
Calm and Calamity 325

attract more attention,” he wrote his wife, “than

any work of art ever seen in this country.” 98 The

doors were sent in six sections and Walter thought

that only James T. Ames could be trusted to put

the whole assembly back together. Ames was duly

engaged and part of the rotunda was fenced off

for a workshop, where he and an assistant assembled the doors, finishing the installation on

December 1, 1863. Walter told his Philadelphia

lawyer that the doors alone were worth a trip to

Washington. The barrister was also invited to

inspect Crawford’s statuary in the Senate pediment, which had just been put into place, as well

as the reclining figures of Justice and History positioned over the principal door to the north wing.

The “trimmings,” as Walter called the statuary,

were being put up rapidly.99

By the end of November work on the tholus

had progressed to the point when it was time to

prepare Freedom for its ascent to the top of the

dome. Workmen disassembled the five sections

and “pickled” them in acid washes to produce a

bronze patina. “We are going on finely with the

pickling of Mrs. Freedom,” Walter wrote Rice, “she

looks as bright as a new copper cent.” 100

On a rainy Tuesday, November 24, 1863, the

first section of the statue was set into place. The

second section followed the next day. Three days

later, the third section was placed during increasingly stormy weather. Attempts to hoist the fourth

section were made on Monday, November 30, but

failed due to a strong northwest wind and freezing

temperatures. The next day workmen were successful in placing the fourth section of Freedom

on top of the dome.

Walter set noon on December 2, 1863, as the

time and day when the fifth and final section of

the statue would be bolted into place. A celebration seemed in order. The commissioner of public

buildings suggested a day of speeches and drinking, but Walter wanted something more solemn

and dignified. In consultation with the War Department, he determined to have a battery of artillery

at the Capitol fire a salute of thirty-five rounds

(one for each state) as soon as the head was put

into place. A response from the forts around Washington would follow.101 The War Department was

prepared “to burn as much saltpeter on the occasion as we may desire.” 102 At the appointed hour,

Columbus Doors 

by Randolph Rogers

Commissioned in 1855, the bronze doors were installed in the House connecting

corridor in 1863. (They were relocated to the east portico in 1871.) Nine panels depict

events in the Columbus’ life, sixteen statuettes portray historical personages, and

four figures represent the continents. (1991 photograph.)
326 History of the United States Capitol

the head and shoulders of Crawford’s allegorical

statue of Freedom began its journey to the top of

the Capitol dome. At quarter past noon it was set

into place by Charles F. Thomas, who unfurled an

American flag over its head as soon as the deed

was done. He and his men were given orders not

to wave their hats or attempt to make a speech.

(Walter had earlier discovered a printed version of

a long speech Thomas planned to give and put a

stop to it.) He wanted “the head put on as a matter of every day work.” 103

The symbolic nature of Freedom’s placement

on top of the dome, coming as it did amidst civil

war, was not lost on those who witnessed the ceremony. Writing for the New York Tribune one correspondent (who did not realize that the statue

faces east, toward Maryland) wrote:

During more than two years of our struggle,

while the national cause seemed weak, she has

patiently waited and watched below: now that

victory crowns our advances and the conspirators are being hedged in and vanquished everywhere, and the bonds are being freed, she comes

forward, the cynosure of thousands of eyes, her

face turned rebukingly toward Virginia and her

hand outstretched as if in guaranty of National

Unity and Personal Freedom.104

Walter was more interested in the effect of the

statue as seen from the ground. He was generally

satisfied, warmly praising Crawford’s taste and talent, but condemned the headdress with uncharacteristic severity:

Mr. Crawford has made a success of it, except

so far as it relates to the buzzard on the head. I

would like to cut this excrescence off, but have

no authority. The proportions, and the entire

bearing of the figure are faultless. I did not like

it so well on the ground but Mr. Crawford knew

what he was about.105

The headdress worn by Freedom has always

been its most controversial feature. Walter was

Elevation (left)

and Section (right) 

of the Tholus 

by Thomas U. Walter

1859

Revisions made 

in 1859 enlarged the

diameter of the tholus 

to accommodate the

statue of Freedom.
Calm and Calamity 327

almost granted permission to remove it on February 28, 1863, when Robert McKnight of Pennsylvania introduced a resolution in the House to

dispense with the “nondescript ornament.” The

resolution, however, was ruled out of order.106 The

architect’s dislike of the headdress was long lived;

describing it five and a half years after the statue’s

installation, he wrote:

It is an eagle so disposed as to constitute a

cap, without being a cap—a helmet without

being a helmet. The beak looks towards the

front, and the plumage ruffles over the top in

such a way as to render it impossible to form

any idea of its design from the distance at

which it is viewed.107

Reactions to the artistic merit of the statue

now positioned on top of the dome were varied,

but everyone agreed that the celebration itself was

a success. Walter was relieved that the event had

gone off so well. The day before had been cold and

windy and the possibility of an accident had preyed

on his mind: the eyes of the nation were on him,

and any blunder would ruin him in an instant. So it

was with considerable relief and satisfaction that

Walter described the event to his wife as one both

stirring and uneventful:

I have succeeded in putting on the head of the

statue without accident. Her ladyship looks

placid and beautiful—much better than I

expected. There was an immense crowd to witness the operation, and everything was done

with propriety and dignity. I have had thousands of congratulations on this great event,

and a general regret was expressed that you

were prevented from witnessing this triumph.108

While cannons continued to make the ground

tremble, Walter went back to his office to finish

out the day at work. Nearby, Benjamin B. French

was sulking in his own office, suffering a wound to

his pride inflicted by those officials who neglected

to invite him to the ceremony. “Being Commissioner of Public Buildings, and, by law, charged

with the care of all the Public Buildings,” French

wrote bitterly in his journal that evening,

I thought that those having the control of putting up the statue, under John P. Usher, the

present Secretary of the Interior, would have

done me the trifling honor of notifying me,

officially, when it was to be done, and have

requested my presence on the occasion, but it

was not done, and I remained in my office.

Freedom now stands on the Dome of the Capitol of the United States—may she stand there

forever not only in form, but in spirit.

109

Five days after the statue was put into position, the first session of the 38th Congress began.

Although construction debris was seen everywhere, the dome and the extension were beginning to look complete. The north wing still lacked

its side and western porticoes, but the magnificent

eastern portico with its massive flight of marble

steps, stately Corinthian columns, rich entablature, and pediment displaying Crawford’s Progress

of Civilization was complete at long last. Its counterpart on the south wing was under way with most

of the steps in place, but none of the columns had

been hoisted. Overall, the extension was looking

quite finished and handsome while the dome added

mightily to the Capitol’s impression of grandeur.

Capitol, Looking Southwest

1863

Soon after Freedom was mounted on top of the dome, the scaffold was removed 

to reveal the sculpture’s silhouette. At the same time the east portico of the Senate

wing was nearing completion.
328 History of the United States Capitol

Walter described the condition of the works in

his annual report dated November 1, 1863, which

the secretary of the interior submitted to Congress

a month later. Much of the report dealt with problems at the Lee quarry and the difficulties in transporting stone to Washington. Everything inside

the two wings was finished but there was some

damage to plaster and paint caused by faulty gutters. To stop the leaks Walter proposed to line the

iron gutters with wood logs and cover them with

copper. Problems with the corrugated copper roof

were also worrisome, but temporary fixes had to

be substituted for permanent solutions because of

the war. An account was given of all the marble,

granite, brick, and cement consumed in building

the extension since 1851. Walter also recounted

the history of the statuary bought for the Capitol,

noting what had been delivered and what was still

expected. He did not like where the Columbus

doors had been installed and preferred to relocate

them to the Capitol’s “front door” —the door leading from the central portico into the rotunda. But

that had the disadvantage of exposing the doors to

outside weather conditions, which might damage

some of their fine details. Then, quite matter-offactly, Walter stated that the Columbus doors

should eventually be removed to an inner vestibule

in a new east front extension:

The eastern portico of the old building will certainly be taken down at no very distant day,

and the front be extended eastward, at least to

the front line of the wings, so as to complete

the architectural group, and at the same time,

afford additional accommodations to the legislative department of the government.110

Thus, before the extension and dome were

even complete Walter was calling for another addition to the Capitol—this one to cover the central

portion of the east front. Embarrassed by cracked

sandstone clotted with thick layers of paint, Walter wanted to bury the old walls under a sparkling

marble addition that would stand a fair comparison with the elegance and sophistication of the

new wings. By bringing Bulfinch’s portico out from

its position under the dome’s skirt, he could also

remove the visual impression that the dome was

not stable. Adding committee rooms and offices,

while always welcome, was to him a secondary

consideration. Walter repeated the east front

extension recommendation in his 1864 annual

report, just as his successors would do in their

own reports over the next ninety years.

“TERRIBLE

PROCRASTINATION”

The more the extension and dome

appeared finished, the more Congress seemed anxious to be through

with the construction business. The din of working

men and machines had greeted Congress for more

than a dozen years, and there were some who were

mightily tired of the commotion. “Congress

expects a finish all around before they leave,” Walter informed John Rice emphatically, “and a finish

must be made.” 111 Senator Foot kept up his regular inspection tours, making sure all that could be

done to finish up was being done. Progress on the

east portico of the south wing was particularly

slow due to troubles at the quarry. The dome also

showed little progress, because of the scarcity of

workmen in New York and Washington. Walter

pleaded with the ironworkers to find more men to

put on the job, both to demonstrate a go-ahead

zeal and to spare him from annoying criticisms. At

the end of January 1864 he asked Charles Fowler:

What has become of you? . . . We are getting

along with the work outside very slowly, partly

on account of bad weather, partly on account

of the going out of the boiler of the engine, and

partly on account of your force being too limited for so grand a work. I had hoped to have

Brumidi at work on the canopy before this, but

we have as yet no show for it whatever. If it is

in your power to push on this work, I would

take it as a particular favor if you would do it.112

A few weeks later, Walter again pleaded with

Fowler to speed the exterior work. Inside, the old

wooden ceiling and tripod that Meigs had built in

the rotunda at the beginning of the project were

finally removed. A new platform built on wood

trusses spanned the rotunda, held by the dome’s

ribs; it was to be used by Brumidi whenever he

was allowed to begin painting the Apotheosis of

Washington. The artist was ready to start and

grew impatient for the canopy to be installed. The

delay left him without an income and he wanted a

cash advance. Walter tried to placate him, while at

the same time finding it difficult to escape rebukes
Calm and Calamity 329

from disgruntled legislators every time it happened

to rain. Because the tholus was unfinished, rainwater flooded the rotunda, bringing “down upon our

heads the condensed ire of both houses of Congress.” 113 To push the work, at least 100 more men

were needed. “The idea of driving on this enormous work with 5 or 6 men,” Walter wrote in desperation, “seems more like . . . sending a corporal

guard to defeat Lee and capture Richmond.” 114

Pleading did little good, however, and Walter

was helpless to control the pace of progress

towards what he had come to regard as the light at

the end of a very long tunnel. His irritation grew

on two levels. Professionally, the dome was the

only work that offered a challenge, and its completion would free him to retire. Personally, he was

anxious to quit the capital city, which he routinely

called “wretched,” and return to Germantown to

live among family and friends. But month after

month, his simple goals were frustrated by the

“terrible procrastination”of the iron workers whose

employment he had done so much to secure.

The first session of the 38th Congress finished

work on July 4, 1864. Two days before the gavel

fell, President Lincoln approved a $300,000 appropriation for the extension, which reserved $1,500

to fund a special Committee on Ventilation. Once

again, some members were unhappy with their

windowless chambers and wanted improvements

made to the air they were obliged to breathe. Some

considered the air unhealthful while others

thought it just smelled bad. James Brooks, a representative from New York City, compared it unfavorably to the air found in some of the nation’s

worst urban slums:

Why, sir, our tenement houses in New York,

some of them fifty, sixty, or one hundred feet

under ground, some of them ten or twelve stories high, are better supplied with air; their

tenants enjoy better ventilation than we who

live within these gorgeous rooms, in this

magnificent Capitol, amid this gold, surrounded

by these pictures, reposing upon these luxurious seats. Sir, I would rather sit upon a broken

bench under some leafy tree in the open air in

some wild woods than to submit to the miserable confinement within this Hall.115

While the complaints were nothing new, there

was a new agitator roaming the halls of Congress,

an architect claiming to have originated the plans

of the two wings and therefore to be the only one

who knew how to ventilate them properly. Charles

Frederick Anderson had returned to Washington

to press his claim against the government for

unpaid architectural services. In his own mind,

the fact that the extension housed centrally

located chambers—a feature of his failed entry in

the Senate competition of 1850—was reason to

believe that he deserved credit and compensation

for the extension as built. While they agreed on

very little, both Meigs and Walter thought Anderson was mentally deranged. Anderson had shown

his designs to Meigs (it is unclear when that meeting took place) but there is no evidence that they

influenced the engineer when he ordered changes

to the floor plans. Anderson’s claim as the architect of the extension was dismissed by Meigs as

“rascality or craziness.” 116 Among Walter’s kinder

epithets were “atrocious scamp” and an “intolerable pest.” 117 Yet there were some gullible men in

Congress who, taken in by Anderson’s bluster and

self promotion, wanted to use the $1,500 ventilation money to commission him to solve the problem of stale and smelly air. They also supported

Anderson’s claim that $7,500 was due him for

designs that were executed by others. When Walter condemned Anderson’s claim as utterly preposterous, Anderson sued him for libel and

demanded $50,000 in damages. (The suit went to

court after Walter’s retirement, dragged on

through months of legal proceedings, and ended

abruptly upon Anderson’s death in July 1867.)

NATIONAL 

STATUARY HALL

On July 2, 1864, Congress passed a bill written by Justin Morrill of Vermont aimed at

preserving the old hall of the House, a room

that, except for some plaster models on display

and peddlers selling goods, had stood empty for

more than six years. The bill reserved $15,000

from the extension appropriation to convert the

old House chamber into a “National Statuary

Hall.” 118 It was an early instance of what modern

preservationists call “adaptive reuse.”

The fate of the old hall had been under discussion for some time. Before the extension was
330 History of the United States Capitol

begun, there were plans to eventually convert the

room into a library or an art gallery. The latter idea

was usually deemed impractical due to the lack of

wall space. In an early study for the Capitol extension Walter eliminated the old hall altogether,

designing two floors of committee rooms in its

place. Now, however, the new hall was in use and

the fate of the old one was no longer just an academic issue. In some people, the room invoked a

sentimental feeling, a reverence for the past that

was fairly unusual for Americans of the period.

The grand colonnade that had given Latrobe such

heartache was universally admired, as were the

beautifully painted ceiling and elegant sculpture.

Yet it was not the architecture that motivated Morrill; rather, it was the memory of the people who

once sat in the chamber that made it a sacred

place. One of Morrill’s colleagues, Robert Schenck

of Ohio, spoke of the old hall with affection and

eloquently contrasted its glorious past with its

degraded present:

I never pass through the old hall of the House

of Representatives without feeling myself

reproached by the spirits that haunt that place.

I look around to see where the venerable John

Quincy Adams trembled in his seat and voted

and I see a huckster woman selling ginger

bread. I look to see where Calhoun sat—for

there was a time when we might speak with

reverence even of him—I look to see where he

sat and where Clay sat and I find a woman selling oranges and root beer. I look around the

floor where these men stood and uttered their

patriotic sentiments in the day when patriotic

sentiments were heard with reverence everywhere and by every man and I see a floor rotting and trembling under my tread.119

As it stood, the room was “draped in cobwebs

and carpeted with dust, tobacco, and apple pomace.” 120 A newspaper in Morrill’s home state

described the old hall as a “barn-like store room

for invalid furniture, where a brisk business is carried on in pies and lemonade for the crowds who

throng the Capitol. These peddlers should be

driven from the temple of state, whose walls once

echoed the accents of Clay and Benton . . . 

Webster or Douglas.” 121

Morrill planned to preserve the historic chamber’s dignity by giving the hall a new function. It

would be set aside for the display of commemorative statues of worthy persons whom the states

might wish to honor in the nation’s Capitol. There

would be no restriction on whom the states might

select except that the person depicted would have

to be deceased. The statues could be either bronze

or marble. Morrill was quite certain that the room

would soon house a splendid collection of statuary

brought to the Capitol at no cost to the federal

government and hoped that the legislation would

stimulate the art of sculpture in America.122

To prepare the old hall for its new use, the

terraced wooden floor would be removed and a

level marble floor built in its place. There seemed

to be plenty of scrap Italian and Massachusetts

white marble in Rice, Baird & Heebner’s stone

yard, so only black accent tiles would have to be

purchased. In addition, the legislation directed

that a pair of high railings be built through the

center of the room to create a clear passage from

the rotunda to the south wing while offering protection to the statuary.

Converting the old House chamber into

National Statuary Hall was undertaken by the commissioner of public buildings, B. B. French. He, in

turn, relied on Walter to design and supervise construction. The architect originally estimated that

the new floor would cost $24,000, but the Senate

reduced the figure to $15,000 to economize and

Walter feared the lower amount would be

insufficient. Aggravating the situation were troubles

with the workmen. Just before he ordered a surplus

block of white Italian marble sawed into floor tiles,

Provost & Winter’s men went on strike for higher

wages. The stone workers demanded an increase of

a dollar a day over their current wage of three dollars, but Walter thought they really just wanted an

excuse to quit and leave town before the next army

draft. Not only was the new floor for Statuary Hall

delayed, but work on the east portico of the House

wing was adversely affected as well. Rather than

risk a forfeiture of their contract, Provost & Winter

yielded to the workmen’s demands. To a friend,

Walter explained the effects of inflation, paper

money, and the war on the workmen:

I have great difficulty in carrying on the Public

works on account of the want of hands and

the increases of wages—the contractors made

their bargains with the Govt. in gold times,

but they are compelled to take their pay in

legal tenders, which makes the present exorbitant prices very hard on them, and causes

“strikes” and interruptions that greatly retard

the work.123
Calm and Calamity 331

On October 4, 1864, Walter hired Henry Parry

of New York to dress and lay the white octagonal

tiles for the floor for seventy-five cents apiece.

The 2,268 black tiles ordered from James Baird

began arriving from Philadelphia on October 19.

Walter’s design for a seven-foot-high bronzed iron

railing was manufactured by Janes, Fowler, Kirtland & Company.

During the summer and fall of 1864 the Union

Army scored a series of victories that lifted northern spirits considerably. In August, Admiral David

G. Farragut captured Mobile Bay. Atlanta fell to

General William T. Sherman on the first of September. The breadbasket of the Confederacy, the

Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, was in Union

hands by October. Petersburg was under siege

and Richmond was next. The Lincoln administration had earlier looked upon the approaching

1864 election with dread but now enjoyed a commanding lead. With each victory, opposition from

Radical Republicans melted away, and Lincoln

won reelection by a comfortable 55 percent in

November. Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, the

only southern senator to remain loyal to the

Union, was elected vice president.

On December 5, 1864, the second session of

the 38th Congress began. The special Committee

on Ventilation set up earlier that summer was still

at work. It conducted experiments with the assistance of Joseph Henry of the Smithsonian Institution and Dr. Charles M. Witherill, a chemist and

physicist. Robert Briggs, who had played a leading

role in the original design of the heating and ventilation system, was asked to assist. At first, Walter

wanted Briggs to install water jets in the ventilation shafts to increase the air’s humidity but worried about the odors they would create. He then hit

upon the idea of putting “evaporating reservoirs” in

the ducts to purify the air by steam, an experiment

that he hoped would appease the grumbling members of Congress until more “philosophical conclusions” could be scientifically drawn.124

In his yearly accounting to Congress, Walter

told of the arrival of the plaster model for one of

Crawford’s sets of doors. The doors depicted

events in the life of George Washington, along with

Revolutionary War scenes. Sent from Italy by

Crawford’s widow, the doors arrived in New York

in four boxes. The cargo was forwarded to

Chicopee, where James T. Ames had been hired to

Statuary Hall

ca. 1890

Statues donated by

the states were not the

only things occupying

Statuary Hall in the late

nineteenth century. An

overflow of books from

the Library of Congress

was shelved on the former visitor’s gallery. The

smooth wooden ceiling

was painted to imitate a

three-dimensional dome

with coffers.
332 History of the United States Capitol

cast the plaster models in bronze. He also reported

that the doors were unsurpassed works of art and

bore “the marks of Mr. Crawford’s superior

genius.” 125 He was glad that Ames was given the

commission to cast the doors because it would

result in a thoroughly American masterpiece. 

AT WIT’S END

During the early days of 1865 Walter

worked on a perspective drawing

showing the design for his proposed

east front extension, though most politicians felt it

would be years before the country would be prepared to fund such an improvement. Although that

project stood little chance of approval, the time

was right to fund an extension to the Library of

Congress. An appropriation of $160,000 was given

on March 2, 1865, to triple the space for the library.

When Walter designed the iron library in 1852, its

eventual expansion into adjacent committee rooms

was planned as well. Once these rooms were

vacated, they could be dismantled and rebuilt into

tall, airy spaces surrounded by iron galleries similar to those in the central library. While the general outline of the library extension had been

worked out years earlier, following passage of the

Plan of the Capitol with Additions to

the East and West Fronts

by Thomas U. Walter, 1865

The proposed east front extension included a 

room for the Court of Claims and a lobby in front of 

the rotunda door. Suggested improvements to the

west front included several new rooms for the Library

of Congress as well as three new porticoes.

Capitol with the

Proposed East

Front Extension

by Thomas U. Walter

1865

Walter’s initial 

proposal for an east front

extension would have

brought the central 

portico out the same 

distance as the wings. 

A marble veneer would

have replaced the old

sandstone in order that

the entire elevation might

be faced with the same

material. The wisdom of

Walter’s proposal was

debated intermittently

for nine decades.

After he left office in

1865, Walter’s drawing of

the east front extension

remained at the Capitol.

This image is an 1866

engraving of a photograph

taken of the (now lost)

original rendering.
Calm and Calamity 333

appropriation Walter prepared the working drawings at the request of the Joint Committee on the

Library. On March 14, he submitted the plans to

the secretary of the interior for approval. Soon

Usher asked Walter to contact Janes & Kirtland

(Charles Fowler had recently left the company) to

see if the firm would build the library extension at

the same prices it had received in 1852. Not surprisingly, it answered in the negative.

Following the secretary’s next set of instructions, Walter prepared specifications and had photographic copies made of the architectural

drawings. These were sent to seven foundries

capable of doing the work. One set of bidding documents went to Janes & Kirtland and another set

went to Charles Fowler. Walter worried about

Fowler’s access to the machinery, tools, and furnaces necessary for the work, but Fowler had made

arrangements with his former partners and Walter

trusted him to do a good job if his bid were

accepted. Hayward & Bartlett of Baltimore and

the Architectural Ironworks of New York were also

among the better-known firms asked to submit

bids. The bidding was not advertised because of

the risk of having to accept somebody who would

“botch” the job.126 Invited bids were to be opened

at noon on April 26, 1865.

While Walter waited for the library bids to

arrive, the city was overjoyed at the fall of the Confederate capital and the ending of the bloodiest

war in American history. News of the capture of

Richmond reached Washington on April 3, 1865,

and the administration ordered the public buildings illuminated the following evening. B. B.

French had just enough time to prepare an unusual

display at the Capitol:

I had the 23rd verse of the 118th Psalm printed

on cloth, in enormous letters, as a transparency, and stretched on a frame the entire

length of the top of the western portico, over

the Library of Congress-viz., “This is the Lord’s

doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.” It was

lighted with gas and made a very brilliant display, and was a marked feature, as it could be

read far up the Avenue.127

At the conclusion of the final military engagement of the war, Robert E. Lee surrendered to

Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox on April 9. 

Jefferson Davis escaped capture and was on his

way to Georgia, where federal troops caught up

with him on May 10. Slavery was in its final days,

but there remained plenty of questions about the

future of former slaves. Looming ahead was a long

period of national healing. As is always the case,

the human price of war was terrible. Over half a

million Union soldiers were dead or wounded. The

number of Confederate casualties was unknown.

Just as the north celebrated the war’s end, however, the world was shocked by the murder of the

president. On Good Friday, April 14, 1865, Lincoln

was shot while watching a comedy at Ford’s Theater in Washington. He died in a rooming house

across the street the next morning. Horrified and

dismayed, Walter was convinced that the calamity

was without parallel in world history.128 This Sunday school teacher found it particularly appalling

that the murder occurred in a theater, which he

likened to a bawdy house.

Lincoln’s assassination sank the city into a blur

of confusion and grief. His body lay in state in the

White House’s east room, where the funeral was

held on April 19. It was then taken to the rotunda

of the Capitol. Thousands of people silently passed

the coffin as it rested on a catafalque draped in

Capitol, Looking Northeast 

1865

Taken while the nation mourned the death of President Lincoln, this photograph

shows flags at half staff and black bunting on the columns.
334 History of the United States Capitol

black cloth hastily sewn by the wife of the commissioner of public buildings. The tripod scaffold

having recently been removed, the only sign of

construction was the platform over the eye on the

inner dome, where Brumidi normally worked on

his painting.

Walter attended neither the funeral at the

Executive Mansion nor the lying in state in the

rotunda. Cynical and depressed, he was strangely

peeved that the tragic events interrupted work at

the Capitol. Uncertainties about the makeup of

Andrew Johnson’s cabinet also worried him. Before

the assassination, John P. Usher had announced

his intention to retire as secretary of the interior

effective May 15, and Lincoln had nominated

James Harlan of Iowa to take his place. Considering that Harlan and the new president were 

political enemies, it was unclear whether the

appointment would stand.

In the meantime, Walter received four bids for

the library extension. (Three of the seven

foundries contacted had declined to participate.)

The bids were forwarded to Usher for direction.

Fowler’s bid of $169,900 was the lowest and, after

consultation with Senator Jacob Collamer of Vermont, the chairman of the Joint Committee on the

Library, it was accepted. The bid was slightly more

than the appropriation, but Collamer thought the

difference too trifling to delay the project. Walter

informed Fowler of the decision on May 1, 1865.

Fowler sent a crew of workmen to Washington

on May 8 to begin demolition of the old floors,

walls, arches, and vaults. The work filled the Capitol with thousands of bricks, piles of rubbish, and

choking clouds of plaster dust. Having been

detained in Germantown by an injury to his young

son’s leg, Walter was unable to be at the Capitol

for the first few days of the work. He returned on

May 15 and first went to inspect Brumidi’s

progress; he found that the center group showing

Washington flanked by Fame and Liberty was

finished, and the artist was about to begin the

group representing Science. Leaving the dome,

Walter went to pay his respects to Secretary 

Harlan on his first day in office, later describing

him as “sweet as sugar.” 129 Harlan wanted to meet

with both Walter and French sometime soon to

discuss the Capitol, a prospect that did not please

the architect. He had recently heard that the commissioner was stirring up trouble by questioning

Walter’s contracting practices.

After only a few days in office, Secretary 

Harlan dismissed the heads of the Bureau of Indian

affairs, the Census Bureau, and the commissioner

of patents. He fired any clerk over sixty and

replaced them with younger men. Walt Whitman,

who was working as a clerk in the department,

was fired because Harlan considered Leaves of

Grass immoral (a sentiment widely held at the

time).130 To prepare for his housecleaning at the

Capitol, Harlan asked French to report on the state

of affairs there. Without explaining the circumstances, the commissioner told the new secretary

that the contract for the library extension was a

violation of the law requiring advertised bids. He

also complained that the library project rightly

belonged in his office and not with the architect of

the Capitol extension. Harlan agreed and issued a

hasty and ill-conceived order canceling Fowler’s

contract and bringing the library project to a sudden standstill. He also transferred all public works

in Washington to French’s office. The unexpected

action removed Walter from his position as head of

the Capitol extension and the new dome, as well

as the library extension project. Harlan issued the

order on May 25 and Walter resigned the next day,

effective June 1, 1865.

Walter had discussed resigning for some time

but never said exactly when he expected to make

the move. Usually he mentioned the completion of

the dome as the most appropriate time to leave.

He advised his daughters not to expect to spend

another Christmas in Washington and told his

friends and associates to expect his resignation at

any time. Yet, when he finally acted upon the longstanding threat, there was a sense that he had

acted on impulse, hoping that the mere mention of

resignation would force the secretary to reverse

his obnoxious order. Walter’s letter of resignation

called attention to the fact that while serving as

architect of the Capitol extension he designed

many other structures for the government, including the new dome, the Post Office extension, and

the Patent Office extension, for which he had not

been paid. (In 1899, twelve years after his death,

Walter’s daughters received $14,000 for their

father’s extra services.) He advised the administration that the works at the Capitol were so far
Calm and Calamity 335

advanced that the services of an architect were

not required. Edward Clark, who intended to succeed Walter, asked that this section of the resignation letter be expunged but was ignored—for some

time, Walter had thought Clark a bit too eager to

fill his shoes.

What few possessions Walter had with him in

his rented room were packed up and sent to Germantown. In the office he gathered personal

papers and drafting equipment for the trip home.

He believed that architectural drawings belong to

the architect and began packing more than 2,000

to take with him. August Schoenborn stood helplessly watching fourteen years of government

work being boxed up for shipment to a private

residence in Pennsylvania. He tried to persuade

Clark to say something in protest, but found that

he did not care to cause a fuss. They would manage without drawings.

At the close of business on May 31, 1865, Walter wrote French a letter, transferring all the

books, papers, and furniture in his possession as

the “late architect of the U. S. Capitol extension

& c.” 131 The next day he left Washington just

before noon and by supper time was reunited with

his family in Germantown. Thus concluded one of

the most productive and thankless chapters in the

life of a great American architect. During his fourteen years in Washington, Walter transformed an

idiosyncratic building into an inspiring monument,

one ranking high on the world’s roster of architectural achievements. Bearing down on him had been

five presidents, five secretaries of the interior, five

secretaries of war, two supervising army engineers,

and countless committee chairmen, senators, and

representatives. Some of these associations had

been cordial and productive, yet too many were

not. His career in Washington was not free of questionable exploits, particularly during the Floyd

years, yet for the most part he had conducted himself honorably and well. Through it all the extension steadily breathed new life into the old

building, renewing its spirit with every stone laid.

Without doubt, the magnificent dome was the singular transforming element. Its commanding presence over the city changed the perception of the

nation’s capital forever. Impressed at the sight of

the great white dome, Europeans no longer

sneered and Americans gained a welcome sense of

national pride. The image of the Capitol and its

new dome was etched in the memories of countless soldiers as they marched through Washington

to face an uncertain future. Few people, however,

were interested in thanking the man who was

mainly responsible for the architectural triumph

that now crowned Capitol Hill. For all the works of

magnificence that sprang from his mind, for all the

headaches he endured, and for the lasting legacy

of honor to his country, Walter left the city without

so much as a handshake or a word of farewell at

the train station.