Freedom’s Cap: The United States Capitol and the Coming of the Civil War by Guy Gugliotta (review)

In one of the overlooked ironies in American history, the key figure in the 1850s in driving forward the magnificent renovations of the U.S. Capitol that transformed it into the preeminent symbol of the power and prestige of the Federal Union was Jefferson Davis, soon to be president of the Confederate States of America, dedicated to the destruction of that very Union. Freedom’s Cap focuses on this irony in a narrative filled with clashing personalities: army captain Montgomery C. Meigs, the engineer in charge of the Capitol Extension whose control of the project was carefully guarded by Davis, first while he was secretary of war under President Pierce and then while he served as chair of the Senate’s Military Affairs Committee; Thomas U. Walter, the architect President Millard Fillmore chose in 1851 to design the new Capitol, who feuded constantly with Meigs over who should garner the lion’s share of credit for the success of the project; John B. Floyd, who used his position as secretary of war in President Buchanan’s cabinet to peddle his influence to the highest bidder and, much to the delight of Walter, to undermine Meigs; and a host of contractors, artists, schemers, and patronage seekers. Quite apart from its painstaking attention to the structural and artistic features of the project as it unfolded, the story is a complicated one, but Gugliotta is a sure-footed guide. A six-year stint covering Congress for the Washington Post familiarized him with insider politics in Washington. By circulating back to the critical triangular relationship between Davis, Meigs, and Walter, he underpins his narrative with a thematic core that pulls together his multiple storylines.

His early chapters on the social and economic history of pre-1850 Washington lend weight to the classic put-down on the city’s pretensions that Charles Dickens registered in 1842 in his American Notes. Nothing better indicated the gap between pretensions and accomplishments than the condition of the early U.S. Capitol: the acoustics in the House chambers were comically inadequate, and the woefully inadequate ventilation system in the Senate chambers left the senators shivering in the winter and baking in the warmer months. The dome, designed by Boston’s Charles Bullfinch and in place since 1829, was an awkward wooden structure covered with copper sheathing that, as it rotted and leaked, worsened the mildew that set in as the exterior sandstone eroded in Washington’s damp climate.

The narrative picks up momentum in 1851, the year Fillmore committed to the Capitol Extension and the cornerstone was laid. By 1854, its basic lines, shape, and visual impact were coming into focus. This was not to be another exercise in an architectural rendition of republican simplicity but an imposing structure worthy of the greatness of the nation. In accordance with what Davis had always wanted, the new Capitol would spread out from its north and south ends. Following through on Daniel Webster’s suggestion, Walter designed covered corridors to connect the new wings to the old Capitol and to grace the new Capitol with one uncluttered line of continuity. Meigs supervised the installation of a hundred new monolithic columns of marble to create the impression that the Capitol had never been in three pieces. And, in the crowning glory of the project, Walter came up with a brilliant design for a new dome based on cast iron, a relatively new construction material, which was much lighter and easier to shape than masonry. As a result, the new dome would be light enough to be supported by the old rotunda and large enough to harmonize the vertical and horizontal elements of the additions with the entire building.

When the House moved into its new quarters in 1857, what amounted to a series of engineering experiments orchestrated by Meigs turned out to be a...