The diligence and dedication of the archaeologists and volunteers who reclaimed so many artifacts from the areas being redeveloped in Old Town Alexandria cannot be underestimated. The story of this amazing project can be found online here.
'Why on earth would anyone throw a perfectly good, cocked and loaded flintlock musket into a privy?'
This was the question I asked aloud while touring the Torpedo Factory Arts Center in ”Old Town” Alexandria, Va., in the mid-1990s with visiting out-of-town family members. I was reading the fascinating labels and text underneath a preserved relic shoulder arm on display in the section of the arts center that held Alexandria’s fairly new archaeology museum. A team of volunteers, led by a volunteer archaeologist, Jan K. Herman, and under the direction of Alexandria’s then-archaeologist, Dr. Pamela J. Cressey, had conserved the remnants of a musket.
The verbiage told how the gun had been found, muzzle-down, in a privy, prior to the construction of a new courthouse on top of what had once been a full city block of run-down and dilapidated 18th- and 19th-century buildings. During Old Town Alexandria’s renaissance of the 1960s and 1970s, archaeological studies were undertaken at the downtown areas (encompassing several city blocks) that were being demolished for renovation into modern businesses and gathering spaces. While the project did involve an architectural historical loss, the pleasing and well-built structures were architecturally compatible with the restored old homes in the surrounding area.
No longer on public display, the exhibit containing the preserved Wickham musket explained how the gun and accouterments were discovered during Old Town Alexandria’s “renaissance” in 1978.
While the redevelopment program was underway, this cocked and loaded M1816 Type II (aka “M1822”) military musket—with a broken mainspring—was discovered in a privy at 106 South St. Asaph Street. Its cock still held the flint in it, and it was rusted fast to the lockplate at full cock. The privy (actually a brick-lined “communal” waste dump) also held a bayonet and what appeared to be the remnants of a leather bayonet scabbard and woven linen sling. From the depth at which the artifacts were found, it seemed as though they must have been dumped there about the time of the American Civil War, but according to the date stamped on the lockplate, Marine T. Wickham of Philadelphia had made this smoothbore musket in 1822, and it was an obsolete flintlock. By the time of the Civil War, muskets were usually rifled and were caplock percussion guns.
After the American Revolution, President George Washington realized that the fledgling nation needed far more muskets than were on hand, if Britain renewed hostilities or the simmering difficulties with Revolutionary France erupted into war. Although he directed that an already-existing arms repair and supply facility at Springfield, Mass., be turned into a manufactory for producing muskets, and that a new one be established at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers in Virginia (Harpers Ferry), those two locations would not be able to produce muskets quickly enough to meet the requirements.
Marine T. Wickham of Philadelphia contracted for, and delivered, 5,000 stands (“stand” includes a bayonet, sling, and scabbard) of improved “Charleville-Type” muskets to the federal government in 1822-23. Many of these "stands" of muskets were sent out to the various states for their militias, including Virginia. Photo courtesy of the NRA's National Firearms Museum.
Accordingly, the new federal government initially let contracts with at least 24 private firearms producing firms to make muskets patterned after the M1763 .69-cal. “Charleville” French musket—the most dominant shoulder arm used by Americans at the end of the Revolutionary War. Lighter, and easier to maintain than the British .75-cal. “Brown Bess,” the French “Charleville” musket (named after one of the three government arsenals that produced them—Maubege and Tulle were the others) also had a reinforced cock, thus giving it a stronger action.
These first contractors (making what is now termed the “M1795” musket), as well as those who followed with further contracts of improved versions of the Charleville M1763 and M1777 muskets, seldom referred to their muskets as being anything but “of the Charleville pattern.” In the past 100 years or so, antique gun collectors and arms historians have constructed a modern system of model designations, e.g. “M1795”, “M1808”, “M1812”, “M1816”, “M1822”, etc. to describe this varied, inconsistent and confusing array of “Charleville-type” muskets, in order to help classify and identify these guns.
Marine (yes, his first name was Marine!) T. Wickham landed a contract in 1822 to produce 5,000 “M1816 Type II” (also referred to by some authorities as the “M1822”) “Charleville” muskets for the federal government. Wickham had been a chief armorer and inspector of arms for the U.S. government around the time of the War of 1812, and had already been a significant player in the development of the American “Charleville” from its original French form to an improved version. Now, he was making guns that, for the most part, would be distributed to state militias.
The Militia Act gave the responsibility for arming the state militias to the federal government, but there were so many problems in obtaining enough arms that some states let separate contracts with producers, and Virginia had elected to build their own “manufactory” in Richmond and make its own arms there. In accordance with the contract requirements, Wickham marked his guns with the date that they actually had been made, as he had subsequent contracts, and stamped those lockplates with their actual date of manufacture, too. Marine T. Wickham, Sr. died in 1833.
The cock was rusted fast to the lock plate at the full-cock position. Under constant tension during its 120 or so years in the privy, the musket’s mainspring had snapped.
By 1822, the federal government was able to fill the musket quotas satisfactorily through its contracting programs and two U.S armories, and Virginia closed its armory. Thus, in the succeeding years, Virginia acquired flintlock muskets from “Washington” that had been made by any number of makers (including Wickham, and marked with a variety of dates), and distributed them to local militia units, while keeping a reserve in Richmond. The city and (then) county of Alexandria (now Arlington) would have received these muskets, in addition to those made previously by the manufactory in Richmond, for its 175th Virginia militia regiment.
In the months leading up the outbreak of the Civil War, the commanding officer of the 175th militia regiment (a Unionist who was opposed to secession) steadfastly refused to have anything to do with the volunteer units that had sprung up in response to the abolitionist John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry in 1859 and the threat of federal invasion. Further, he and his second-in-command had even tried to disestablish these new organizations, only to be overruled Virginia’s governor. These volunteer units (the Mount Vernon Guards, the Old Dominion Rifles, the Alexandria Riflemen and two “Irish” companies—the Emmett Guards and the Alexandria Volunteers) were now grouped together as the 6th Battalion, Virginia Volunteers, and had armed themselves with a variety of shoulder arms—most of them “Minie” percussion rifles of one sort or another. It is highly unlikely that a Wickham-made flintlock musket had left the militia armory on Fayette Street and was now in the hands of an Alexandria volunteer.
Just weeks before the invasion on May 24, 1861, a contingent of 57 Irish railroad workers traveled from Fairfax Station (about 20 miles west of Alexandria) to offer their services in defense of their newly adopted home. Virginia had provided a refuge for them from the horrors of the great potato famine in Ireland. Some of these same track workers had built the Orange and Alexandria railroad in the preceding decade, and the small Irish community at Fairfax Station had just completed building the first Roman Catholic church in Fairfax County the year before. Not yet citizens, they nevertheless answered the call to defend Virginia from federal invasion and its consequences—sanctioned wanton vandalism, theft and arson, all of which occurred throughout northern Virginia in the coming weeks—and they came by rail to the “Irish” section of Alexandria around the railroad depot, engine roundhouse and workshops in the westernmost part of the city.
Public appeals went out in the Alexandria Gazette for the ladies of Alexandria to make uniforms for the O’Connell Guards in the week before the invasion, and, apparently, some uniforms were produced. This hand-embroidered flag was later smuggled out of Alexandria and presented to the O’Connell Guards in June 1861 when they were in Manassas. Photo courtesy of Heritage Conservation, LLC.
Now in Alexandria, the Irishmen organized their company and named themselves the “O’Connell Guards,” after the great Irish statesman, Daniel O’Connell. They scrambled to acquire uniforms and arms. Their devotion to the cause of Southern independence and to Virginia’s defense is indisputable, in that although a very few of them did desert during the war, the rest either were killed in action, died of wounds, died of disease, invalided out of the service after being wounded or captured and imprisoned. Only three of the original 57 men were present for roll call at the Appomattox surrender in 1865. Since none of these men had any military experience, three officers, all Alexandria and Fairfax County “gentlemen” who had at least some military training (among them was James E. Green, Jr.—famously depicted in the PBS television series "Mercy Street") were detached from the other companies and assigned to the new unit. While the families of their three new officers owned enslaved laborers and servants, none of the 57 enlisted Irishmen did.
In addition to being without, or with very few, uniforms, only a fraction of the members of the O’Connell Guards had firearms. According to a report on May 9 by Col. Algernon S. Taylor, a former U.S. Marine Corps officer who had been assigned to command the forces around Alexandria, his two “Irish” companies at the time (the “Emmett Guards” and Captain Thornton Triplett’s artillery company—variously referred to as the “Alexandria Volunteers,” the “Alexandria Artillery,” or the “Irish Volunteers”) were armed with “altered flintlocks of the 1848 pattern, but without cartridges or caps,” while the other companies of the newly-designated 6th Battalion all had rifles and rifled muskets of different models. Taylor’s report was an explanation for the reason for his premature evacuation of Alexandria on 7 May— his men had little, if any, ammunition, and it was all of varying types and calibers. This was a move that had resulted in Taylor’s removal from command.
The adjutant general of Virginia sent 200 flintlock muskets, like the one shown here, from Richmond to Alexandria in early May 1861. This is the same type and make as the musket found in the privy. Photo courtesy of the National Firearms Museum.
Five days earlier, Virginia Adjutant General Richard S. Garnet had written to General Philip St. George Cocke in Culpeper that “two hundred flintlock muskets (were being) sent (from Richmond) without delay to Alexandria for the troops in and about that point.” It can be assumed that at least some of these flintlocks were delivered and issued to the O’Connell Guards, which was being formed on May 9. South Carolina’s Gen. Miles Bonhman later reported from Manassas that when the troops from Alexandria arrived on the afternoon of May 24, “many of them were without arms,” but, according to a later report by Taylor’s successor, former Marine Corps Maj. George H. Terrett, men in several of the 6th Battalion’s other companies were also without firearms, so it is very likely that at least some of the O’Connell Guards were issued these flintlock muskets. Indeed, one of these flintlock muskets MAY be the “mystery musket” of Old Town Alexandria.
While speculation about this musket’s origins and the reason for it’s being in the privy has been a subject discussed among archaeologists, curators, conservators and interested museum visitors for the past 45-plus years, a family legend may be the key that unlocks this mystery. According to his descendants, Owen Nugent (a 35-year old Irish immigrant from County Meath) operated a grocery store at 305 King Street (actually today’s 1301 King Street, since Alexandria renumbered its house addresses in 1888) and had enlisted in an “Irish” company of volunteers in the days immediately prior to the Union invasion of the city on May 24, 1861. When Nugent returned home to tell his wife of his enlistment, she demanded—in no uncertain terms—he go back there and “un-enlist,” and she reminded him that he had a family and his business to consider. Family legend cites this tongue-lashing as the reason why Owen Nugent never went off to war.
Since the Emmett Guards and the Irish Volunteers were temporarily stationed on guard duty at Manassas in late May, the only “Irish” company accepting enlistments in Alexandria at that time was the O’Connell Guards. This was the same unarmed unit from Fairfax Station that was being armed (or at least partially so) with flintlock muskets from Richmond—the only flintlock muskets available in Alexandria—and it was quartered within a few blocks of Nugent’s grocery store and home. It is highly probable that Nugent was handed a flintlock musket, a bayonet, scabbard and sling, along with two paper-wrapped .69-cal. cartridges, when he “signed on” with the O’Connell Guards shortly before the invasion, and was given basic instructions on how to load the musket. He also would have been told to rally at the 6th Battalion’s mustering point at Prince and South Washington Streets when he heard the alarm.
The reverse of the O’Connell Guards flag is a version of the early Confederate “First National” or “Stars and Bars” flag. Now in an undisclosed private collection, this flag was carried until regimental colors supplanted company flags. In June 1861, the O’Connell Guards became Company I, 17th Virginia Infantry regiment, CSA. Photo courtesy of Heritage Conservation, LLC.
Most likely being too embarrassed to return and “un-enlist,” Nugent may have kept the musket for the next few days, and when the 11th New York Volunteers landed on the wharf at the bottom of King Street in the pre-dawn darkness of May 24, 1861, he very well could have been awakened by the sounds of scattered shots from the Southern sentinels at the waterfront. He also could have heard the alarms all over the city. At that point, he could have loaded the musket with powder and a patched ball and hurried to the intersection of Prince and South Washington Streets to help resist the invasion. Being unfamiliar with firearms (as most Irishmen were, unless they had seen service in the British army), he may have pulled the cock back to the full-cock sear notch, instead of the half-cock position, before charging the priming pan, or he simply may have cocked the gun in anticipation of battle. Being under full tension for almost 12 decades, the mainspring most likely just snapped (as they often will when under such tension for so long) sometime during its nearly 120 years in the privy.
At this point, Nugent could not have known that Taylor’s replacement, Confederate Col. George H. Terrett—whose troops still had very little ammunition—had negotiated an evacuation agreement a few hours earlier with Lt. Reigart B. Lowry of the USS Pawnee. This steam-powered “sloop of war” stood—with its 9" guns loaded and run out—just off the waterfront, and Lowry threatened to bombard the city, were it not surrendered to the Pawnee’s commanding officer, Dublin-born Capt. Stephen C. Rowan, USN. In negotiating this deal, Terrett undoubtedly saved the city from certain bombardment and the resulting civilian casualties. Following Terrett’s order to regroup at his headquarters, any of the local volunteers who lived in that area and would have been available to face the invaders at the waterfront on lower King Street, were instead retreating westwards to the mustering point at Prince and South Washington Streets, six blocks away. They were in a hurry, as, Rowan had landed the 11th New York prior to the time agreed upon.
When Nugent would have arrived at the mustering point and Terrett’s headquarters (where the Confederate monument, Appomattox, used to stand), he would have seen hundreds of men in splendid uniforms and carrying modern percussion muskets, forming up in their companies, and going into a column for the march out of town. The area would have been packed with soldiers, as several other companies from neighboring Loudoun and Fauquier counties had arrived in the preceding weeks to augment Alexandria’s 6th Battalion of volunteers.
Since the O’Connell Guards apparently were quartered around the railroad yards at the westernmost part of Duke Street, it is most likely that Col. Terrett ordered them to stand fast and fall in at the rear of the column as it exited the city. Or, like what happened to two other units, they were too late in assembling. One late-arriving company joined the march farther down Duke Street, while a cavalry squadron missed the rendezvous altogether and was captured by the invaders. For whatever reason, the O’Connell Guards joined the column as it left Alexandria, and then served as the “wrecking crew” on the last commandeered train to Manassas—dismantling, destroying or burning all he railroad bridges on the 30-mile rail journey to Manassas Junction, a key strategic position.
If he had tried to meet up with his fellow volunteers, as it is surmised, Owen Nugent may have been heard the shots that killed Col. Ellsworth and James Jackson. That could have alerted him to the necessity of throwing his musket into the privy. Photo courtesy of Library of Congress.
Frustrated at being armed with a loaded, but antiquated, flintlock musket, and dressed in his civilian clothes among all the handsomely uniformed volunteers, Nugent would have discovered that he was the only member of the O’Connell Guards present at the mustering point. All of the other men in their respective units knew each other. He didn’t even know anyone in Fairfax Station’s O’Connell Guards—and they weren’t even there—and no one knew him. Worse yet, instead of standing and fighting to defend the city, as he had intended to do, the battalion was evacuating it. Nugent had no superior officer to tell him what to do or where to go. This may have been just too much for Owen Nugent, and he very well could have quietly sidled around the corner and started on his way back home, with his musket still in hand, while the 6th Battalion marched westwards through the city on Duke Street.
Right about this time, Col. Elmer E. Ellsworth and a small group of his 11th New York Fire Zouaves had entered the Marshall House—a block away to the east—to capture a large secessionist flag from its rooftop. The hotel’s manager, James W. Jackson, had been flying it over the building for months—infuriating the Lincolns, who reportedly could see it from the White House across the Potomac River. Ellsworth was Lincoln’s personal friend, and he wanted to present the flag to the new president. While coming back down the stairs with the flag, Ellsworth was killed by Jackson with a single blast from a borrowed double-barrel shotgun. Within seconds, Jackson lay dying on the floor, shot and bayoneted by one of Ellsworth’s party, Cpl. Francis Brownell.
Although conserved and preserved for future generations, the “Musket in the Privy” is still a relic that looks very similar to how it did when it was discovered in 1978.
Nugent could have heard those shots, and if he had not already thought about it, he would have realized that he would be in real trouble, were he to be caught with a cocked and loaded military musket in his possession. A communal brick-lined cesspit (originally built as a well) stood at the rear of 106 South St. Asaph Street, just around the corner, and out of sight, from the mustering point. Since a corroded bayonet was also discovered in the privy with the musket, along with some unidentifiable remnants of textile and leather (probably the leather bayonet scabbard and its woven linen shoulder belt), one can see Nugent quietly lifting the wooden trapdoor lid on the cesspit and throwing the musket, muzzle first, into the deep vault, along with the bayonet and accouterments. After throwing his musket and gear into the communal privy, one can easily imagine Owen Nugent despondently trudging back to his home. He certainly could not have risked being captured by Union forces with a loaded musket in his hands—and besides, his wife had forbidden him to go off to war anyway!
Like his comrades in the O’Connell Guards, Owen Nugent was a devoted supporter of Southern independence, and he steadfastly refused to take the Oath of Allegiance on several occasions, until he was finally forced to do so by Union occupation forces in 1863—and he only did so to save his business. He was also an ardent Irish patriot, as demonstrated by his purchase of a $10 Fenian War Bond in 1866 to raise funds in order to buy arms for an Irish-American invasion of Canada later that year. He certainly never would have admitted that, in the face of the Union invasion, he threw his musket into a privy and returned home while the rest of the 6th Battalion marched off to war!
In order to keep the wooden stock from shrinking and splitting when it dried out, it was immersed in a solution of polyethylene glycol, a water-soluble wax, for months, until the preservative replaced all the water. Jan K. Herman had learned this conservation technique when in college.
While this saga is not enough evidence to convict someone in a court of law, the coincidence of this Irish immigrant “would-be” soldier being in that part of the city under those circumstances, and most likely being armed with an “Irish-issue” flintlock musket is just too much of a happenstance to ignore. As far as anyone knows, no one actually witnessed Owen Nugent throwing his musket into the privy, and, in his lifetime, he likely never would have confessed to doing so. Hopefully, some enthusiastic and interested “history detectives” will delve deeper into this story in the future and will be able to confirm or disprove this speculation. However, until that happens, this theoretical explanation remains as the most logical answer to the question—"Why on earth would anyone throw a perfectly good, cocked and loaded flintlock musket into a privy?"
Coincidence?
Like in the saga of the “Frankenspencer,” coincidence played a major role in unraveling this mystery. The Nugent brothers, Steve and Chris, related the story of their ancestor, Owen Nugent, to me during my research for an exhibition of Fenian firearms at the annual Maryland Irish Festival in 2016. In addition to reprising this exhibit over the next three years, this research also led to several American Rifleman articles (“Guns of the First Fenian Raid,”; “Erin’s Hope: The Needham,” and “Defending Canadian Homes,”) as well as articles in other publications. However, the story of the O’Connell Guards was undertaken to support a historical military drumming program at the Fairfax Station Railroad Museum in 2022, and that topic was worlds away from Fenians. Coincidentally stumbling upon the brief mention of flintlock muskets being sent to Alexandria in May 1861, I connected the dots between the two divergent stories, leading me to the realization that it probably was Owen Nugent who threw his flintlock musket into the privy—and he had both the motive and the opportunity to do so.
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank the staff of the City of Alexandria’s Alexandria Archaeology department, Harris J. Andrews III, Craig Bell, Giles Cromwell, Jan K. Herman, Josh Phillips, Philip Schreier and the Nugent brothers— Steve and Chris—for all their assistance in the preparation of this article.
