Unrecorded Incidents in the Life of Old Annapolis at the Period, and as it Was, When the Naval School was Founded in 1845
Of those who in the dust do dwell,
May there kindly mention be,
When the birds that build in the branches tell,
Of the planting of the tree.
Where is yesterday? Much of it is lost forever—faded away and obliterated beyond any possible recall. Within its hours runs only the smallest recorded certainty of other days because no note was ever made to recall the many interesting and valuable facts and incidents to be appreciated, cherished, and passed on to other generations.
In this age of bustle, rush, and selfishness, one seems to hear the echo of the curt response to the title of this article: “What matters?”—“Who cares?”; and it is to be regretted that with many today the Past is oblivion, the Present a whirl, and the Future a doubt. They care for little but their own small environment; they come and they go, leaving the world and their followers none the better for their brief existence.
These few reminiscences, however, are not intended for them, but for those who are interested in matters more historic and less temporal—for such as cherish the memory of those other days which in a greater or less degree have “left their footprints on the sands of time,” and made the ' world better for their existence.
The host of people associated with the Naval Academy and Annapolis/ of the present day will be interested to draw a comparison and wander “in thought” with its early traditions and intimate associations of other days, in the words of one who lived at the time and saw its gradual growth and expansion almost to the present.
The author of this article found among the papers of his father, the late John Read Magruder, the unpublished manuscript which follows. Mr. Magruder had been requested many times during his long life to prepare such an article for historical reasons, but apparently was not persuaded until the closing days of his life, about the year 1905, during Governor Warfield’s administration. Mr. Magruder was a lifelong resident of Annapolis, from the date of his birth, October 2, 1829, to March 28, 1916. During this long span he was prominently and intimately connected with all phases of the life, incidents, and facts recalled.
As the manuscript of Mr. Magruder’s article given below was found in its original form, with no opportunity on his part to make a revision, it is hoped that any errors of diction or expression may be overlooked. The facts presented can be relied upon as being correct.
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Will you walk around with me in thought while I call attention to some of the relics of interest which the ravages of time, fire, and vandalism have spared to us?
We will start at the old Carroll mansion, the residence of Charles Carroll of Carrollton. The part of the old home not demolished is in the rear and can be seen from the creek and bridge. The property is now owned and occupied by the Redemptorist Order for their church, college, and schools. I fancy it would have gladdened the heart of that old patriot to know that his old haunts were to be diverted to such holy and useful purposes. After Mr. Carroll removed to Baltimore an uncle of mine occupied it for many years. It was one of the delights of my early boyhood to wander through the beautiful grounds, fish over the sea wall, and enjoy the fruit, flowers, and trees planted by Mr. Carroll.
Just adjoining its grounds is the old Scott colonial mansion where Francis Scott Key, the author of the “Star Spangled Banner,” lived with his uncle while attending St. John’s College. Since the beautiful story of Winston Churchill was written it has been pointed out to strangers as the “Richard Carvel” house. It is now occupied by the Sisters of Notre Dame, whose lovely and devoted lives add interest to the history of the old building, which has stood the storms of centuries. It looks as if it would take more than the ravages of time to destroy its beauty, although its antiquity of appearance has been somewhat marred by a heavy coat of paint said to have been necessary to prevent moisture penetrating its walls.
Just across Duke of Gloucester Street from the Carroll property is the stately old Ridout residence which, with the block of three residences for his three children adjoining, was built in colonial times by the John Ridout who owned White Hall after the departure of Governor Sharpe, whose confidential friend and secretary he was. In these busy and changing times this house enjoys the interesting distinction of having been owned and occupied uninterruptedly by the family whose ancestor built it.
Farther up the street is the site and foundation of the old Ball or Assembly Room which, from early colonial times down to the Civil War, was the scene of many gay dances in which all the dignitaries and beauties of those many years took part. (I won’t insult them by calling them “the four hundred.”) Its springy floor was the delight of many a gay couple. Washington and Lafayette honored by their presence entertainments there. It was occupied as a guardhouse during the Civil War and was almost entirely destroyed by fire. It was rebuilt in the best manner that Annapolis could at that time afford with her slender resources, on the old foundation which connects it with its interesting past history. Mr. Ridgely mentions a portrait of one of the Lords Baltimore and several other governors. These are all owned by the city of Annapolis and are now hanging on the walls of the executive office. I have suggested that it would be a graceful act for the city authorities to present them to the state for the portrait gallery of distinguished Marylanders which Governor Warfield has proposed and begun to gather in the old Senate Chamber and other rooms. It is history that, besides the portraits mentioned by Mr. Ridgely, there was a splendid portrait of Cecilius Calvert, Lord Baltimore, first proprietary governor of Maryland. This is still in existence and is owned by the Peale family. A picture and a portrait of Queen Anne have disappeared. Both of these were given by Queen Anne to the city.
Just below here are the remains of what was, until very recent years, an old gambling den. It was occupied regularly every session of the legislature by a gambling crowd. Its princely suppers and the large sums won and lost by grave counsellors, legislators, and even by governors and judges, are among the traditions of Annapolis, some of them very sad and pathetic, detailing ruined lives and fortunes, some equaling those told of Saratoga, Monte Carlo, or Baden-Baden.
Just across the street is the First Presbyterian Church. It is not colonial but there are two interesting facts connected with it. It was erected upon the foundation of the second or third theater built in Annapolis and it was built of the brick of the large stable and coach house of the Lloyd mansion which, when I first recollect, was on the corner of Maryland Avenue and Prince George Street. For both these facts there are interesting precedents, for in the last century, after the terrible holocaust of a Richmond theater, a church was erected on its ruins and still stands. Was not the cradle of the Saviour of the world the manger in a stable?
I would like, as we pass along, ‘to notice the Dulany, Pinkney, Harwood, Green, and Wells mansions, all fine old specimens of colonial architecture, but it makes my article too long. They are worthy of a more extended notice for their many points of interest. Walking on, we come to the Hotel Maryland, made by adding to what in my boyhood days was known as the “Bowie House.” It was a grand old structure; like nothing else I have ever seen. Two old gentlemen were walking together when one said to the other, “Was there ever such an odd-looking structure as that?” “Yes,” said the other, “on Thread and Needle Street in London there is one just like it.” Now I don’t vouch for this; I only give it as I heard it.
Next, St. Anne’s Church, the third on the same foundation. The one which this succeeded was destroyed by fire in 1858. There are many of us still living who remember the fine old structure whose destruction was one of the many heavy losses which Annapolis has suffered from the same cause. To Annapolitans it was a sad sight, associated as it was with so much near and dear to them. The old bell—the gift of Queen Anne—which for more than a century had tolled in sweet, solemn tones at the funerals of our loved ones, tolled out its last and own sad requiem on that black winter night. Its curfew, or rather nine o’clock bell, had been rung by old Joe Mog and his successors all those years, but here was a fire not to be covered—it would not out. A beautiful and much admired marble statue in the vestibule in memory of one of the Dulany family looked very noble in woe in the midst of the burning. It seemed almost as if a human sacrifice were being offered. It was a scene never to be forgotten. The next evening the congregation and other citizens assembled in the court house and while the fire was still burning, steps were taken for rebuilding. In a short while the present structure rose out of its ashes. A gentleman of much culture and travel told me that he had seen most of the churches at home and abroad, many of them of course far grander and of more architectural pretension, but he had never seen one that impressed him more with its beautiful appropriateness.
We now pass on to the old site of the once famous and handsome home of Mrs. Green, used as a boarding house in later years, which was located on Church Circle, on the grounds of the present executive mansion, but which was torn down at the time of the construction of the new mansion. It was similar in design and construction to the old Pinkney House just opposite on the site of the present Court of Appeals Building. This old house was celebrated in about 1845 as the living quarters of the board of examiners, consisting of high-ranking naval officers, who conducted the examination of a large class of midshipmen spoken of at the time as the “Class of 1840.” The meeting of this board was a great event. The examination and studies of the midshipmen were going on for a long time. There were never many of them here at one time and they were known as the “oldsters,” and it was several years before their final status and relative rank were determined. There were but one or two houses in those days where dignitaries could be publicly entertained, so, as above noted, this house became the temporary home of the high-ranking officers of this board. Their march to the school in the morning was quite a show. These old officers and their wives were great sticklers for rank, as are some of their successors of the present day. On one occasion this grand procession was coming up the street when a small boy called out, “Here comes the commodores.” The wife of the ranking officer, a grand and important personage, said in a loud voice, “No, my little fellow, only Commodore S. and the captains.”
Now we come to old St. John’s College. If we consider it as the successor of the King William School founded by Sir Francis Nicholson, which it really is, it ranks next to Harvard as the oldest collegiate institution in the country; but even disallow that claim and it is the third in point of seniority. The fine old structure in the center of the group is McDowell Hall, commenced by Governor Bladen as a colonial residence and known as “Bladen’s Folly.” A host of distinguished men in every walk of life have gone forth from its walls—probably more and of more ability in proportion to their numbers than from any other institution in the country. They have filled every walk of life and filled them most honorably. On the grounds of the college, during the Revolution, French and American soldiers were encamped and quite a number of them were buried there. The patriotic societies took up the matter of a monument to the French soldiers and during the ceremonies connected with reinterment of Paul Jones, the base of the monument was laid with most impressive services in which the French ambassador, an admiral, and other distinguished Frenchmen, as well as our own governor and others, took part. It was a most touching and beautiful ceremony. It seemed to be an appropriate recognition or response to the interest which France took not only in our “First Admiral” but in our whole struggle for liberty. Why should not our own brave soldiers buried there have a monument also to mark their resting place?
During the Civil War the same grounds served for the encampment of thousands of our soldiers. I remember going out one morning after a severe storm. The campus in front of the college was covered with tents occupied by soldiers. This storm broke off a large part of the “Old Poplar”—a tree which I suppose has not its equal on this side the Rockies—and crushed in numbers of tents, but, providentially, injured no one. None of the buildings compare in antiquity with McDowell Hall, although some of them are quite ancient.
Down Prince George Street we come to what was the residence of Sir Francis Nicholson, the first colonial governor after the removal of the seat of government from St. Mary’s to Annapolis. In after years it was altered and enlarged by Judge Hagner. It has changed hands several times and is now the residence of Mr. Marchand, but this historic interest attached to it can never be obliterated.
Near by is the former home of Paca, one of the “signers.” It has been altered and enlarged into a hotel and is now known as Carvel Hall. In close proximity are the Jennings and Brice houses and one of the Chase mansions, of which, if space allowed, much of interest might be told.
The Lloyd house, now known as the Chase home, the Hammond or Harwood house, and the mansion of Governor Ogle, now owned by Mrs. Porter, all in close proximity, are fine specimens of colonial architecture. The Lloyd house differs from most colonial buildings in that it is a three-story building. The tradition is that it was originally intended to be only two stories but that after Mr. Hammond built his house opposite it, the view of the bay and river was shut out. Governor Lloyd then added another story that he might have an unobstructed view of his vessels as they came and went to and from his Wye home and even from across the water. The historic Peggy Stewart mansion is nearby but so much has been said and written about it that I shall be touching upon historic records if I write of it, which I said at the outset I did not intend to do. Now come with me to “Acton on the Spa,” now owned by Pay Director Murray. It is a fine old colonial building and has been in the possession of the present owner’s family for two generations or more. There is a pathetic story in connection with a former owner which I will relate. He was Colonel (Lewis, I think) Duvall. His estate embraced many broad acres reaching far down toward South River. For many years he represented Annapolis in the general assembly. One year he decided not to be a candidate but after another candidate had been named as his successor he changed his mind and went before the people for reelection. He opened his orchards and gardens to the public and spent his money recklessly and lavishly, but was defeated. The enormous expense ruined him financially. He was compelled to sell all his ownings but a small farm and house to which he retired, broken-hearted and ruined. He left a large family of sons and daughters, the last survivor of whom was Dr. Marius Duvall, a prominent surgeon of the Navy.
I have left the State House for the last to be noticed in our walk. It has always been the pride of Maryland and much admired. During the celebration of the one hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Yorktown and surrender of Cornwallis, in which Germany and France took a conspicuous part, one of the French commissioners, M. Regeme, the superintendent of public instruction in the French cabinet, came to Annapolis. On his way from our house to the Naval Academy, where he was staying, we passed up Francis Street (just where we are supposed to be now). In front of the State House he stopped and said, “I have not seen a building in America that pleases me as much as this. Will you pardon me if I pause and make a little sketch of it?” And there in the beautiful moonlight he made his sketch.
The years of the life of this old building are replete with incidents and events of national and state historic interest, but they are matters of record and I am dealing only in personal reminiscences and traditions. If these old walls had graphophonic power what stories they could tell. I shall have to pass them by, but there are events which have taken place within its walls there within my memory which are certainly of historic interest and to which I will briefly refer. In 1850, shortly after the death of President Taylor, and when the compromise measures of 1850 were being considered, Governor Pratt, then senator, entertained at Ogle house, his home, Henry Clay and a half dozen or more distinguished senators. They were received in the old Senate Chamber on the part of the state by the governor and on the part of the city by the mayor, Dr. Abram Claude (father of our present mayor), then quite a young man, in a few eloquent and well-chosen words. Then Clay, with the impassioned eloquence which was his own, spoke of the inspiration to be drawn from the place where they stood. It was a scene not to be forgotten, and equal in dramatic interest was another on the same spot in which Daniel Webster, Louis Kossuth, the great Hungarian soldier and statesman-patriot, and young and eloquent Governor Lowe, were the chief actors. Liberty and patriotism' were the theme of all the eloquent talk.
I must relate two incidents of striking interest which I remember and which occurred in the old Hall of Delegates just across the rotunda. The first was the examination of the charges brought by ex-Governor Francis Thomas against Judge John C. LeGrand. Mr. Riley mentions it but places it as occurring during Governor Thomas’ administration. In this he was mistaken. It was remarkable because of the distinguished and able men connected with it. The pathetic and feeling story of the venerable Governor McDowell of Virginia, as he indignantly repelled the vile charges and insinuations made against his lovely daughter, the wife of Governor Thomas, who had been obliged to seek the protection of her father’s house, brought tears to the eyes of some of the audience, and when Thomas, stung and galled by his burning words, rose and in furious and withering tones said he had been denounced and slandered by these hounds of hell but that he defied them all from “Bully Benton down to Blackguard McDowell,” the gavel of the speaker (John P. Kennedy) quickly descended with a call to order, and there was a pause. It was almost a parallel to the Patrick Henry scene in the House of Burgesses of Virginia. The charges against Judge LeGrand failed signally. Soon after, he was elected chief justice, which position he held until his untimely death. He was one of the most brilliant young men of his day.
The other scene to which I shall allude occurred during the sessions of that noble Maryland judge, William B. Carmichael, the head of the session of the Constitutional Convention of 1867. President Andrew Johnson and Secretary of State Seward visited Annapolis as guests of Governor Swann and were tendered a reception by the convention, and there on the same platform stood three men, each of whom had been victims of violence and cruelty and injustice in different forms, from which they had barely escaped. Judge Carmichael was dragged from the bench by the Federal soldiery and sustained much bodily injury, and in his person the civil law was trampled underfoot. Seward barely escaped with his life the knife of the assassin and bore to his grave the terrible scars and disfigurements of the cruel blade. The country was only saved from the humiliation and disgrace and injustice of a conviction for treason of its Chief Magistrate at the hands of a fanatical and revengeful Congress by the bravery and independence of Fessenden, Graves, and the few who had courage and sense of justice to stand out against the fury and malignity of their party. It was a happy omen of the future to see men who had differed so widely and had all suffered so much for their opinions standing there on one platform, if not entirely in friendly accord.
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Out of respect to other days of old Annapolis and the Naval Academy and for the interest of other generations, it is to be regretted that the above-quoted article was not continued, as it was probably the author’s intention to touch on other interesting incidents revealed to him from an earlier generation, and other facts occurring during his long life; and for that reason the writer of this article feels it may be of value to record a few facts, generally unknown, which the author’s father recounted to him from time to time.
It is not generally known that Commodore Perry’s celebrated expedition to Japan sailed direct from Annapolis in November, 1852, and that just before sailing President Fillmore and the Secretary of the Navy visited the ships here and were entertained at a memorable party. The ships returned to Annapolis afterwards, but did not come directly here. My lather saw the squadron sail and witnessed the return. It brought back at the time the Japanese bell, now located in the grounds, which was presented to the Naval Academy in 1858.
Another generation passed on to him the fact that many years ago Annapolis harbor was landlocked, Greenbury Point and Horn Point projecting so as to make a direct view of the entrance impossible from a distance. To show how rapid the disappearance of Greenbury Point by erosion has been in recent years, when the writer was a boy the old lighthouse on the point was far enough back to have a small corn field in front of it. A few years ago when passing around the point at low tide, the writer came upon the remains of the old brick and stone foundations of the lighthouse over two hundred feet to the eastward of the point. So it is very probable that it could not have been so many, many years ago that the above conditions existed.
It is not generally known in this generation that Dom Pedro II, the last Emperor of Brazil, visited the Naval Academy in 1875, some years before his banishment.
It is an interesting fact that the location of the burned wreck of the Peggy Stewart was known for many years. The late Mr. E. S. Riley, author and historian of Annapolis, knew of its exact location, and during the dredging of the Naval Academy in 1903 Mr. Riley watched with interest for many days the approach of the dredge to the supposed location, and, sure enough, at the traditional position large pieces of the charred remains of a ship of the construction of that period were brought to the surface, as well as partly burned oak with wooden trenails. The writer has a piece of this old wreck now in his possession, presented to his father by Mr. Riley.
The old Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, as originally planned, was designed to come into the Severn River instead of the Potomac. A compromise was made in appropriating for this project which gave to Annapolis, instead, the old steam railroad from Elkridge which the Annapolis citizens desired.
This generation can hardly realize that there was a large shipyard at the corner of Northwest Street and Calvert Street in the early days of Annapolis, where large ships were constructed for the overseas trade. This location is now a great distance from the waters of College Creek. The cove to its approach has been entirely reclaimed. Tradition recalls that in the early days there was a wharf at the corner of Main Street and Conduit Street. Some years ago when the writer was a boy, at the time that deep excavations were being made at this point, he personally saw the piling and the cross pieces of this old wharf comparatively well preserved.
It is interesting to recall that in the center of the block bounded by Hanover Street, Maryland Avenue, King George Street, and the Naval Academy grounds, there stood from early times a handsome colonial brick house of fine proportions owned by the Lloyds and said to have been equal to any in the town at that period. It was burned in the early forties. The remains of the old dairy house which was near the mansion are still in existence at this location.
The writer’s father was told by his mother many of the striking events of the War of 1812. In this connection it is interesting to note an incident described by one who actually saw the British fleet in 1814. In 1888 the writer was informed by his grandmother, who died in 1889 in her ninetieth year, that when she was a young girl she was taken to Horn Point and personally saw the British fleet of “seventy-two sail,” as expressed in those days, pass Annapolis on its way to Baltimore to bombard Fort McHenry.
It may be of interest to recall that in the early days of Annapolis there stood a quaint old house near the southeast corner of Maryland Avenue. This house was so quaint and celebrated that it attracted the attention of all visitors. It was known as the “Old Shakespeare House,” and was said to be a replica of Shakespeare’s house in England. It was demolished about 1850.
Some of the older people of Annapolis informed the writer’s father that General Washington during his many visits to Annapolis was greatly impressed with the fact that nearly all the streets of Annapolis radiated from circles and squares, and was so much taken with it that when he was planning the city of Washington he sent the engineer, Major Pierre Charles L’Enfant, to Annapolis to study the layout with a view of applying it to the proposed city. L Enfant made two visits to Annapolis for this purpose. This may be the reason why so many of the avenues and streets of Washington radiate in the same manner.
There once stood within the present bounds of the Naval Academy two historic buildings now lost from sight by the vandals of destruction—one the old Governor’s Mansion, occupied by the governors of Maryland from 1769 to 1868, which was ceded to the government by the state for the enlargement of the Naval Academy at the time. It was a fine old specimen of colonial architecture, and was used for many years afterwards as the superintendent’s office and library. In the construction of the new Naval Academy it was intended to preserve this mansion for the superintendent’s quarters and plans were made with this in view. The architect discouraged it as it in some way interfered with his general plan, and he finally had this fine old mansion condemned, as he reported the walls were too weak and would not stand the proposed internal remodeling. This splendid building stood on Buchanan Road just opposite the present superintendent s quarters, and was demolished in about 1902. The other historic house noted above was the old Nicholson home near the site of the present band stand and Lovers’ Lane, made famous by its association with the original manuscript of the “Star-Spangled Banner” and other incidents. On the death of Judge Joseph Hopper Nicholson this property passed to his widow, the sister of the wife of Francis Scott Key, and his son, Colonel Joseph H. Nicholson, who deeded it to the government in 1845 for the site of the Naval Academy. It is unfortunate that these old structures could not have been preserved for future generations.
It is refreshing to know that in these days there remain a few fine old specimens of the past which have escaped the vandals, and it is a pleasure to note here, among the others previously mentioned, now standing, the old Reynold’s Tavern, built in 1737, and famous in its day. It is now owned by the Farmers’ National Bank and occupied by its president. It has been carefully preserved and is in fine condition, and remains much as it was as in its colonial days.
There is yet another remnant of the past in sad contrast to its former early brightness —the old Randall House, the ancestral home of the present Randall family of Annapolis, situated on the north corner of Randall Street and Market Space. This old colonial brick house, celebrated in its day, and with its beautiful gardens, box bushes, and sloping lawns to the water, is pathetic today in hideous surroundings, as compared with its picturesque and peaceful setting of the colonial period. This house was the boyhood home of the late John Read Magruder, the author of the leading part of this article, who inspired this “walk in thought” through old Annapolis.
There are many other interesting, unrecorded, and not generally known incidents in connection with old Annapolis and the old Naval Academy that could be noted here, but space forbids. The few noted above may prove interesting, and may thus not be entirely lost to future generations.