The Strange Story of Harper's Ferry, with Legends of the Surrounding Country

For some years before the war there resided in the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry a schoolmaster named Law. He claimed to be a brother of the famous George Law, of New York. He was an eccentric man, but he appeared to have a good deal of strength of character, for he always denounced slavery and advocated its abolition. For the expression of his sentiments on this subject he was driven out of Harper's Ferry, shortly after the Brown raid, and narrowly escaped a coat of tar and feathers. On the breaking out of the war he attached himself to the union army as a spy, and he was murdered, as it is supposed, by some of Mobley's gang. One of them related to a friend of the author the manner of Law's death and it was as follows, according to the confession: Having made him a prisoner, they took him to a lonely part of the Loudoun Mountain, laid him flat on his back and fastened him to the ground with withes twisted 'round his limbs and driven into the earth with mauls, and firmly secured. There he was left to perish of hunger, thirst, cold or any more speedy death from the fangs of wild animals that Heaven might mercifully vouchsafe to him. Whether all this is true or not, there is no doubt of his having been murdered, and considering all the circumstances, there is reason to believe that the poor fellow was treated as stated.

When General Lee a second time invaded the north on his disastrous Gettysburg campaign, again did Harper's Ferry change masters, and, when he again retreated, the re-occupation of the town by the union army was a matter of course, and the place then remained in the uninterrupted possession of the latter for a year.

On the 4th of July, 1864, the federal army was driven out again by a portion of General Early's forces, who penetrated into Maryland and were encountered on the 9th of the same month by General Lew Wallace at Monocacy Junction, about twenty-three miles east of Harper's Ferry. Here a very sharp engagement took place, when the unionists retreated towards Washington City and were followed cautiously by Early. On the 4th of July, while the federal troops were evacuating Harper's Ferry and some of them were yet at Sandy Hook preparing to retreat farther into Maryland, one of them, partially intoxicated, went into the store of Mr. Thomas Egan at the place and offered to buy some tobacco. The proprietor handed him a plug. The soldier took it but refused to pay for it and, on Mr. Egan's attempting to recover the tobacco, a scuffle ensued. Mr. Egan succeeded in ejecting the soldier and he shut the door to keep the intruder from re-entering. At this moment the proprietor's only child, a very interesting girl of about thirteen years, noticed that the soldier's cap was on the floor of the storeroom, it having fallen off the owner's head in the struggle. She raised a window, held out the cap and called the soldier to take it, when the ruffian shot her dead with his carbine, the bullet entering her mouth and coming out at the back of her head. The lamented Colonel Mulligan of the 23rd Illinois regiment happened to be passing the scene of the murder at the time and he ordered the brute to be arrested and confined for trial, but, in the confusion of the following night, he escaped and was never seen afterwards in that region. It is said that he deserted his regiment and joined the United States navy. The mother of the child – a most estimable lady – soon succumbed to her great sorrow and died broken-hearted. The father became dissipated and a wanderer until he lost his mind, and it is supposed that he ended his days in some asylum for the insane. On the same day a lady from North Mountain was killed, while standing on High street, Harper's Ferry, at a point exposed to the fire which was kept up from the Maryland Heights by the federal troops. A colored woman, also, was killed on Shenandoah street, of the place, and a child was mortally wounded in Bolivar, and a young lady – Miss Fitzsimmons – seriously injured at the same time and place. The child was a daughter of Mr. Thomas Jenkins and Miss Fitzsimmons was his step-daughter. A shell struck Mr. Jenkins' house, shattering it badly and injuring his family as noted. The author of this little volume was seated at the time under the gun that discharged the shell. The cannon was on the fortifications of the Maryland Heights and the writer could see Mr. Jenkins' house was struck. He remonstrated in strong language with the gunners for doing wanton mischief to inoffensive citizens. They took good-naturedly his indignant protests and ceased firing, which, no doubt, prevented much harm. The lady killed on High street and the colored woman received their death wounds from Minnie bullets. A shell from some other battery penetrated a government house on High street, Harper's Ferry, occupied by Mr. James McGraw, passed directly through it without injuring any one, and then penetrated the house of Mr. Alexander Kelly, where it fell on a bed without exploding. Miss Margaret Kelly, daughter of the proprietor of the house, was in the room when the unwelcome visitor intruded and settled down on the bed, but fortunately, she received no injury beyond a bad fright.

While this skirmish was progressing, a confederate officer of high rank sauntered into the armory yard, either to watch the enemy on the opposite side of the river or to take shelter from the heat which was intense that day. He was alone and excited no particular attention. On the next day a young girl who was searching for a cow that had strayed, found his dead body and, as the rebels had retreated on the previous night, the task of burying him devolved on the citizens. The body was much swollen and decomposition had made great head-way. So nobody knows how he came to his death and, indeed, no examination for wounds was made. He was interred somewhere under the railroad trestling and it would be worth something handsome to discover the exact spot. After the war his family offered a large reward for the discovery of his resting place, but, in the campaign of Sheridan which followed shortly after this fight cavalry horses were picketed under this trestling and they tramped the ground so hard and obliterated so completely all traces of the grave that the search for it, which continued some time, was finally abandoned. Poor fellow, his fate was a sad one. No doubt, he left a happy home and loving friends and, now, he moulders in an unknown grave without even the companionship of the dead.

"His sword is rust;His bones are dust;His soul is with the saints, we trust."

At no time during the war was there as deep a gloom on Harper's Ferry as on that anniversary of the birth of our nation. The people had entertained the fond hope that the war was nearly over, or, at least, that the theatre of it was to be moved farther south. Therefore, when, on the 2nd of July, the sound of cannon was heard in the direction of Martinsburg, utter despair appeared to take possession of all hearts at Harper's Ferry. The battle sounds were from a heavy skirmish between a part of Early's troops and Colonel Mulligan's Irish regiment – the 23rd Illinois – at Leetown, about midway between Martinsburg and Harper's Ferry. It may interest the reader to know that Leetown took its name from the famous General Charles Lee of unenviable reputation in the war of our Revolution. Here it was he buried himself in a morose solitude after his quarrel with General Washington and the cabin which he inhabited, with only his dogs for company, is still standing and occupied by a family. The firing was the first intimation the people of Harper's Ferry had of approaching danger. Mulligan, although greatly outnumbered by the enemy, succeeded in checking their course for a while, and he gave the garrison and people of that place time to prepare for defense or retreat. However, as the darkest hour comes immediately before the dawn, so was this gloomy time the precursor of, at least, comparative tranquility. Although the people were obliged to fly on this occasion, as usual, they were not again driven from their homes, and, although peace was not restored to the whole country for many months after this, Harper's Ferry was happily exempted from any more of its accustomed calamitous evacuations.

The writer has adverted to the want of discipline in both the armies that in this war exhibited so much gallantry and, as an evidence of this he will relate an incident that occurred on Maryland Heights while the federal army was yet defending Harper's Ferry on that memorable Fourth of July. It will be remembered that the State of Ohio a short time before had furnished to the government a force called "the Hundred-Day Men." A portion of these were doing duty on the Maryland Heights on this occasion. They were brave enough but, as the following will show, they had little or no conception of the military appliances which they were expected to use with some degree of intelligence. A company of them were preparing dinner and, not having anything else convenient on which to build their fire, they procured from an ammunition wagon several large shells on which they piled their wood which was soon ablaze. 'Round the fire they all squatted, each intent on watching his kettle or saucepan. Soon a terrific explosion shook the surrounding hills, sending all the culinary utensils flying over the tree tops and, unfortunately, killing or wounding nearly every man of the group. This is but one of many instances seen during the war of incredible carelessness produced by the excitement of the times and a lack of military training in the soldiers. While "the hundred-day men" were stationed near Harper's Ferry many yarns were spun at their expense, such as the following: One of them, it is said, presented himself on a certain occasion to the commander of the post, a grim old warrior, who had seen a hundred battles, and who had the reputation of being a martinet. On being asked what he wanted, the soldier said that he had a complaint to make of the commissary who had not yet furnished butter or milk for the company mess. The wrath of the old campaigner is said to have been appalling when he heard this, and it is narrated that about this time a figure was seen to retreat with precipitation from the general's tent, with a boot in close proximity to its seat of honor.

Another party of the same corps was stationed at Kearneysville, ten miles west of Harper's Ferry, for the protection of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad at that point. These hearing of a much superior force of the enemy approaching to destroy the road and kill or capture them, wisely resolved to retreat to Harper's Ferry without waiting orders from their superiors. A freight car happened to be at the time on the sidetrack near, and the thought struck them that they could load all their "traps" into this and push it to their destination. Kearneysville is situated on the very top of a ridge, halfway between Harper's Ferry and Martinsburg, and there is a very steep grade of ten miles in length either way from these points – the summit being, as noted, at Kearneysville. This the Ohio men did not know and it is possible that they had never heard of the existence of grades on surfaces apparently so level as railroads. Having procured a switch key, they transferred the car to the main track, and having loaded on it all their paraphernalia, they proceeded to push the car towards Harper's Ferry. At first it was moved with some difficulty, but soon they discovered that it gradually attained speed and that, after a little time, it rolled along without the necessity for any exertion in pushing. Supposing, perhaps, that some kind fairy had greased the track for them, they felt overjoyed and, giving the car a few vigorous pushes, they all jumped aboard and "let her slide." Soon, however, the rate of travel increased, so as to give them some uneasiness and, after their having accomplished a mile or two, the speed was terrific and increasing every moment. Knowing little about railroading they did not understand the use of the car-brake, which would have done something towards reducing their dangerous rate of locomotion. On the car shot like a meteor, and the long hair of the western men streamed behind like the tail of a comet, as would also their coat tails, if their uniforms had any such appendages. The astonished track hands along the road fled in dismay from the apparition and well might the knowing ones among them feel alarm as the westward bound mail train was then due on the same track on which the car was rushing in an opposite direction at far more than legitimate railroad speed. Onward and faster the Ohio men flew 'round the innumerable curves of the road in that neighborhood until to the amazement of Mr. Donohoo, the railroad agent at Harper's Ferry, the car came in sight of his station. Fortunately, the mail train had been detained for some reason by order of Mr. Donohoo, and thus the Ohio men and the passengers on board the train were saved from the consequences of a collision which, under the circumstances, would have been of the most disastrous kind. When the car came to the level a short distance above Harper's Ferry, its rate of travel gradually declined and it stopped of itself before reaching the passenger train, the engineer of which had presence of mind to back his train far enough to the east to keep out of the way until the momentum of the engineless car had expended itself beyond the incline. The soldiers half dead with fright, jumped off the car with all possible speed, but they were put in irons immediately by order of the commander at Harper's Ferry for disobedience of orders with the aggravation of the danger to which they had exposed the passenger train. The Ohio men were very gallant soldiers, however, and that more than compensated for their inexperience.

After the failure of the confederates in their attempt on Washington City, and their retreat into Virginia again and for the last time did the federal troops get possession of Harper's Ferry. After the battle of Monocacy General Sheridan was appointed to command in the Valley of Virginia, and his brilliant and successive victories over Early around Winchester saved the whole of the lower valley, henceforth from its accustomed alternation of masters.

There was then residing near Harper's Ferry a German known as "Dutch George," his real name being George Hartman. He was a bachelor and he worked among the farmers of the neighborhood with whom he was deservedly popular for his harmless simplicity of character and his efficiency as a farm-help. During the severe conscription George entered the confederate army as a substitute for one of his employers and his achievements in the war are thus summed up. After the last retreat of Early, George and many of the young men of the neighborhood who were serving in the confederate army, and who had taken advantage of the forward movement of their troops to visit their homes, remained on furlough, trusting for concealment to their knowledge of the locality and the sympathy of all their neighbors with their cause. One day they got information that a force of their enemies was approaching and, fearing that their houses would be searched for them, they all assembled in a deserted blacksmith's shop where the enemy would suspect their being concealed. As an additional precaution, they threw out pickets to watch the motions of the enemy, and George was detailed for this duty. He took post in a fence corner, but he kept a poor lookout and was surprised and taken prisoner by a squad of the enemy that had stolen a march on him. "By damn," said George to his captors, "you did dat wery vel, but you ain't schmart enough to find de boys in de blackschmidt shop." Of course, "a nod was as good as a wink" to the shrewd "Yankees," and they surrounded the shop and made prisoners of the whole party, greatly to the astonishment of George, who never could be made to understand by what intuition the "Yankees" discovered "de boys in de blackschmidt's shop." Poor George is now dead, and it is only fair to his memory to say that he was not suspected of cowardice or treachery. He stood well with his comrades in regard to courage and loyalty, and it is possible that the tale was invented or greatly exaggerated by the mischievous youngsters of the neighborhood to tease the poor fellow.

During the winter of 1864-65 several military executions took place at Harper's Ferry and, indeed, there is no phase of war that was not experienced at some time by its people. A man known as "Billy, the Frenchman" was executed by hanging on the 2nd day of December, the fifth anniversary of John Brown's death. His proper name was William Loge. He was a native of France and was but a short time in this country. He enlisted in a New York regiment and, while he was stationed at Berlin – now Brunswick – on the Maryland side of the Potomac, he deserted and, crossing over to Virginia, he attached himself to Mobley's gang and became a terror to the people of Loudoun – rebel as well as loyal. He was a young man of an attractive appearance and great physical strength, as well as of iron nerve. After marauding successfully for many months he was made prisoner by federal scouts, near Johnson's stillhouse – the scene of the pugilistic encounter between Yankee Sullivan and Ben Caunt – and taken to Harper's Ferry, where he was executed as soon as the formalities of a court martial could be complied with. He displayed the utmost courage on the scaffold and many pitied him on this account, as well as for the great brutality with which the execution was conducted. The provost was Major Pratt of the gallant 34th Massachusetts regiment, a very kindhearted man, but others who acted under him displayed the greatest cruelty and barbarity. On the whole it was the most sickening affair witnessed at the place during the war.

On another occasion two deserters were taken out for execution by shooting. The Reverend Father Fitzgibbon, a Catholic priest, chaplain to one of the regiments then at the place, took an interest in them and, although they did not belong to his communion, he volunteered his spiritual aid for the occasion. Father Fitzgibbon had officiated in the ministry years before at Springfield, Illinois, and had become well acquainted with Mr. Lincoln, then a practising lawyer at that place. It occurred to the good priest, therefore, to use his influence with the President for the pardon of the condemned men, or a commutation of their sentence. He telegraphed his request to Mr. Lincoln. No reply came until the hour appointed for the execution had actually passed. Major Pratt, with his usual kindheartedness, delayed the catastrophe as long as he could do so consistently in view of his duty. At length the condemned men were placed on their knees and a file of soldiers held their guns ready to fire at the command of the provost, when a horseman was seen riding furiously from the direction of the telegraph office and it was hoped that he might be the bearer of some message of mercy. True enough, the benevolent Lincoln had pardoned them, and there was not one in the crowd of spectators who did not feel relieved on hearing the good news, and many a rough cheek was wet with tears. It will be readily believed that the prisoners participated largely in the joy of the occasion. There is an old fatalistic saying that "every wight has got his weird," or that every man's career on earth and the manner of his death are predestined. This may or may not be true, but many things occur to give at least plausibility to the belief. One of these men thus rescued from the very jaws of death, lost his life some twenty years afterward by being shot by a woman whom he had grossly insulted with improper proposals, and to whom he was about to offer personal violence. The "weird," if there is such a thing, missed him at Harper's Ferry, but overtook him some thirty miles farther up the Potomac. The author will give another instance of apparent fatality. Like the sentimental Sterne, he loves philosophical digressions which, perhaps, the reader may pardon. Besides, the occurrence took place near enough to Harper's Ferry to give it some little claim on the chronicles of that neighborhood. In the confederate army during the civil war was the scion of a very respectable house in the lower valley of Virginia. Like other young men, no doubt, he felt that in him was the making of a hero but, in his first battle, he discovered that he had missed his vocation. In his second and third battles his fears were confirmed and, still worse, his comrades suspected the truth. He held on to the colors, however, but, after a few more experiences, he ever sought some excuse for absence from his post in time of battle, until his example was considered detrimental to the service, and by a tacit connivance he was allowed to quit the army and return home. It often happened that scouting parties of the opposite sides would encounter one another near his home and so great was his fear of death that on these occasions he would hide himself in some bullet-proof retreat. Once, a skirmish took place nearly a mile from his home and he thought he could view it safely at that distance. He however, took the precaution of hiding in some high grass while looking at the encounter. All in vain was his care, for a stray bullet found him and he received a mortal wound.

An understanding may be got of the war experience of Harper's Ferry from the fact that the railroad bridge at the place was destroyed and rebuilt nine times from June, 1861, to the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox in April, 1865. Mr. Thomas N. Heskett, now dead, assistant master of road for the Baltimore and Ohio railroad company, every time superintended its construction, assisted by Milton and Oliver Kemp, his foremen, and it very creditable to these gentlemen that, notwithstanding the many disadvantages under which they labored, and the hurry with which they were obliged to perform the work of reconstruction, no accident occurred to any of the thousands of railroad and wagon trains that passed over it during these years, which could be traced to any defect in the bridge itself, or the track laid on it.

At every evacuation of the place the wildest excitement pervaded the town, and scenes of terror were frequently presented, mingled with ludicrous occurrences. Few, however, could at the time command equanimity enough to appreciate the laughter-moving side of those pictures and see where the joke came in. A few days prior to a retreat a vague rumor of approaching danger could be heard and immediate preparations would be put on foot for a "skedaddle." There were in the town many sympathizers with the rebellion, especially among the fair sex. These were in constant communication with the insurgents, who kept them informed of what was going on within the confederate lines, in return for the news with which they were supplied of the doings of the union troops. While, at heart, thoroughly loyal to the rebel cause, the women of southern proclivities could never keep their information concerning the movements of the confederates entirely secret. The love of talk and the pride in knowing more than their neighbors always betrayed them into giving some hints of what was impending and, in consequence, the townspeople were but seldom taken by surprise. As the enemy approached, the excitement would increase and, finally, a motley crowd of fugitives of every shade of color could be seen tramping along the turnpike to Frederick City, ankle deep in mud or enveloped in a cloud of dust and stewing with heat, according to the season. Ideal socialism existed among them for the time being and a practical illustration of the equality of mankind was frequently exhibited when a darkey of the blackest shade of color, with a wallet well supplied with hard tack and bologna sausages, or a bottle of whiskey, commanded more consideration than the purest Caucasian, though he could trace his lineage to the Crusades or the Norman conquest, if deficient in his commissariat. Uncle Jake Leilic's hotel in Frederick City was the headquarters of the fugitive Harper's Ferry people on these occasions, and assembled there, they contrived to receive intelligence about the movements of the rebels, until the danger had passed away, and the confederates had retreated up the valley. Mr. Leilic deserved well of many refugees whose pecuniary resources became exhausted while they were away from home, and he is remembered by many with gratitude. He was a good, honest, kindhearted, though blunt German – a native of Hesse Darmstadt. He has been dead many years and few there are to fill his place in the estimation of his surviving friends. The retreats were called "skedaddles," a term invented at the time by some wag. The originator in all probability was not aware that a similar word is used by Homer to express the same idea and, if at any time, the inventor should chance to read these pages, or should learn by any other means of the coincidence, the information, no doubt, will afford him the liveliest satisfaction. It must be confessed, however, that the termination "daddle" is not homeric, as it is lacking in dignity and such as would not be tolerated for a moment in the grand old language in which the great bard wrote his sonorous hexameters. A correction in the next edition is, therefore, respectfully suggested.