THE CIVIL SYSTEM REVIVED.
Major Bell was succeeded, early in 1855, by Henry W. Clowe, a native of
Prince William county, Virginia, a very worthy mechanic who had been
employed, for many years before, as a master millwright in the armory.
He was a man of a very impulsive nature with all the virtues and many of
the faults of men with that temperament. He was highstrung, as the
saying is, but he was generous to a fault and never did the place enjoy
greater prosperity than under his administration. Whether this was owing
to his good management or not was a question which every man at the
place decided according to his partialities, perhaps, but the fact of
the great prosperity of Harper's Ferry at that time, is undoubted.
Having been associated a long time with the workmen as an equal he had
many difficulties to encounter to which a stranger would not be exposed.
It is probable, however, that his greatest trouble arose from the
intrigues of politicians. He had a quarrel with the representative in
Congress from the district to which Harper's Ferry then belonged, and by
the influence of the latter or of some other party, Mr. Clowe was
removed from the superintendency about the close of 1858.
In this administration, in the spring of 1856, a tragical occurrence
took place in the town. Two men named Engle and Alison had a quarrel
originating in drunkenness, when the latter struck the former on the
head with a four-pound weight, breaking his skull in several places. The
wounded man lay in a comatose state for some hours before his inevitable
death. Alison was arrested immediately and conveyed to Charlestown jail
to await trial. Having concealed on his person a small pistol he blew
out his own brains in a few minutes after his lodgement in prison, and
his spirit arrived at the great judgment seat almost as soon as that of
his victim.
In the summer of 1858--June 10th--a melancholy accident occurred in the
armory yard, whereby Mr. Thomas Cunningham, a most worthy man, lost his
life. A very curious circumstance is connected with this accident. The
mishap took place about 9 o'clock a.m. A few minutes before that hour
the writer of these pages was passing the armory gate, when he
encountered a very respectable citizen of the place, who, in an excited
manner asked him if he had heard of any accident in the shops or the
armory yard. Having heard of none the writer inquired what grounds the
other had for the question. The reply was, that he had heard of no
accident, but that he was certain that somebody was or would be hurt
that day at the place, for he had seen in his dreams that morning
several men at work in a deep excavation in the armory grounds and
noticed particles of gravel falling from the sides of the pit and a big
rock starting to fall on the men. In his endeavor to give notice to the
parties in danger he awoke and this was his reason for believing that
somebody would be injured that day in the place. Politeness alone
prevented the writer from laughing outright at what he considered a
foolish superstition in his friend. He reasoned with him on the
absurdity of a belief in dreams which, instead of being prophetic, can
always be traced to some impression made on the mind during waking
hours. While they were yet conversing, a man ran out from the armory in
breathless haste and inquired for a physician. On being questioned he
replied that Mr. Cunningham had been crushed by a rock falling on him in
an excavation he was making and that Mr. Edward Savin, also, had been
badly hurt. Mr. Cunningham died in a few minutes after his being injured
and thus was the dream literally verified, even to the exact place,
foreshadowed--the armory yard--for there it was the excavation was being
made. Mr. Savin recovered from his hurts and afterwards served with
great credit in the 69th regiment of New York Volunteers. At the first
battle of Bull Run he had, it is said, his clothing perforated in more
than a dozen places by bullets, but he escaped without a wound. It is
reported that his preservation in this battle was among the most
extraordinary of the war of the rebellion, considering the very shower
of bullets that must have poured on him to so riddle his clothes.
Whether the dream was a mere coincidence or a psychological phenomenon
let every reader judge for himself. There is high authority for
believing that "coming events cast their shadows before" and the above,
for which the writer can vouch, would appear to confirm the truth of
what every one is inclined, in his heart, to believe, though but few
dare to own it, for fear of incurring ridicule. The occurrence convinced
the writer of what he more than suspected before and fully believes now,
that verily, there are many things transpiring daily which do not enter
into anybody's philosophy and which can not be explained by intellect
clothed in flesh. Perhaps, we will understand it all when we enter some
other sphere of existence and, perhaps, again, we will =not=.
Apropos of the foregoing, the reader may feel interested in the
following which, although it did not occur at Harper's Ferry, took place
so near to it that it will not be considered much out of place in our
chronicles. Besides, it was proposed at the start that the author should
give strange incidents of the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry, especially
when the actors in the scenes, as in this case, were identified closely
with that place and had daily business relations with its people. Some
sixty years ago, there lived near Kabletown in the upper part of
Jefferson county, a Scotchman, named McFillan, who was overseer on a
plantation belonging to a Mrs. Hunter. He was a man of dissipated
habits, and some person whom he had offended informed his employer in an
anonymous note that he was neglecting his duties. On being taken to task
by Mrs. Hunter, McFillan at once concluded that the author of the note
was a neighbor named Chamberlain with whom he had had some quarrel. In a
short time after McFillan and his supposed enemy encountered one another
at a blacksmith's shop in Kabletown and, the former charging the latter
with the authorship of the letter, fight took place between them, when
Chamberlain struck McFillan on the head with a stone, injuring him
severely. Before any great length of time the wounded man died and, it
being supposed that his death was caused by the injury received from
Chamberlain, a coroner's inquiry was held over the remains and a
post-mortem examination was made by Dr. Creamer, a physician of local
celebrity in those days. Chamberlain was put on trial in Charlestown
and, as the fact of his having struck the deceased was notorious, he
based his defense on the probability that McFillan had come to his death
by dissipation. Dr. Creamer's evidence favored the prisoner's theory,
and, as the utmost confidence was felt generally in the doctor's ability
and integrity, the accused was acquitted. Why the doctor did not so
testify before the coroner's jury, the tradition does not tell.
In some time after the trial a man named Jenkins moved into the
neighborhood of Kabletown and took up his residence in the house
formerly occupied by McFillan and in which he had died. Jenkins was a
bachelor and he lived without any company, except that of some slaves
whom he had brought with him. Feeling lonely, he extended an invitation
to the young men of the vicinity to visit him and assist him to pass
away the long winter evenings in a social game of "old sledge" or
"three-trick loo." One night Chamberlain visited him and engaged at a
game. Their conversation was cheerful and not, at all, calculated to
excite their imaginations disagreeably. While they were playing, a
shuffling of feet was heard in the hall and, presently, a knock was
given at the room door. Jenkins said, "walk in," when the door was
opened and in came two men who were strangers to the proprietor.
Chamberlain instantly fell to the floor in a swoon and Jenkins jumped up
to assist him. While stooping to help his friend, the host, of course,
took his eyes from the strangers and when he had succeeded in lifting
Chamberlain to a seat, they had vanished unseen and unheard by any other
person about the house. The negroes, on being questioned, denied
positively their having heard or seen them arrive or depart, and it was
impossible that any one in the flesh could enter the house and proceed
to the room occupied by Jenkins and Chamberlain, without being
discovered by the servants. Chamberlain exhibited signs of the most
abject terror and his host was obliged to send some five or six of his
slaves to accompany him to his home. Of course, the matter got noised
abroad and the neighbors eagerly questioned Jenkins about it, but he
could give no explanation of it, beyond describing the appearance of the
strangers. The description of one of them answered exactly to that of
McFillan. The height, make, complexion and dress of the supposed spectre
corresponded closely with those of the deceased overseer and the other
equally resembled Chamberlain's father who had been dead some years. The
latter apparition wore the peculiar dress of the Society of Friends of
which the old gentleman had been a member and, in other respects, its
description coincided exactly with that of the deceased Quaker. Of
course, no one ventured to question Chamberlain on the subject, but it
is religiously believed in the neighborhood that the apparitions were
the ghosts of the men whom they so much resembled, but why they should
travel in company or what the object of their visit was is as much of a
mystery as the dream which suggested this episode. Jenkins had never
before seen either of them, being as before noted, a stranger in the
neighborhood and, certainly there was no reason why =his= imagination
should conjure up those apparitions.
Whatever skepticism may be entertained about the matter, it is certain
that Jenkins, to the day of his death, persisted in his statement, and
there was no man in the county of a higher character than he for
veracity. It is said that never after that night did Chamberlain sleep
in a dark room, but that he always kept a light burning in his bed
chamber, from the time he retired to rest until daylight. He met his
death many years afterwards in a singular manner. He was riding one day
in a wagon over a rough road. In the bed of the wagon was a loaded
musket with the muzzle of the barrel pointing towards him. In some way
the musket was discharged and the bullet killed Chamberlain. It was
claimed by some who, perhaps, were interested in having it appear so,
that the jolting of the wagon caused the discharge of the gun, but no
one attempted to explain how the weapon was cocked or why the bullet did
not pass under the driver's seat, instead of through his body. Many ugly
rumors floated around for some time in connection with the affair, but
the writer does not feel at liberty to give them further currency. All
the parties concerned are now dead, and let no one disturb their repose
by rehashing what may have been mere slander or idle gossip. During Mr.
Clowe's time as superintendent--in 1857--died at Harper's Ferry, John,
commonly known as "Lawyer" Barnett, who was in his way, quite a
celebrity. He was by trade a carpenter and he had the reputation of
being an excellent mechanic. Like many other deluded visionaries, he
conceived that he had discovered a principle on which perpetual motion
could be produced and, for many years, he devoted his energies, spent
his earnings and tried the patience of his friends, in the construction
of a machine illustrative of his idea, and explaining his theory to any
person willing to listen. His device was certainly very ingenious but
marvelously complicated and when set in motion, it terrified, with its
unearthly noises, his timid neighbors, many of whom looked with
superstitious awe on the mysterious fabric and its uncanny inventor. The
poor "Lawyer," however, was the most harmless of mankind and the last
man that his friends should suspect of being in league with the powers
of darkness. If any compact existed the poor fellow's appearance
certainly did not indicate any accession of wealth, as he always went
about dressed like a scare-crow, his rags fluttering in the breeze,
betokening the most abject poverty. He always carried a thick cudgel and
was accompanied by a ferocious looking bull dog. The latter was,
however, as harmless as his master and, for all that any one knew, as
much abstracted in the contemplation of some problem of interest to his
canine friends. Barnett, like many other great men, would take sprees
occasionally, and the poor fellow died one night in one of his drinking
bouts, at his solitary bachelor home, and his face was devoured by rats
before his death was discovered by his neighbors. It need not be said
that he did not accomplish the impossibility he had proposed to himself,
and his machine now lies in a garret almost forgotten. Had the "Lawyer"
been a married man he would not have met so appalling a fate and,
besides, if we may rehash a stale joke on the ladies, he might have got
some valuable hints from his wife's tongue and accomplished something
for science.
Mr. Clowe was succeeded in January, 1859, by Alfred M. Barbour, a young
lawyer from western Virginia, whose administration was the most eventful
in the history of the place, as it was during that period that the great
civil war broke out which, as is well known, caused the total
destruction of the armory works. Other remarkable events, however,
occurred in Mr. Barbour's time which were precursors of the subsequent
great evils and foreshadowed the final catastrophe. These will be
narrated in the next chapter.
On the 28th day of June, 1859, a memorable tornado swept over the place.
About 3 o'clock in the afternoon a thunder storm came up and two clouds
were noticed approaching each other, driven by currents of wind from
opposite directions. When they encountered one another, a fierce flash
of lightning followed by an appalling thunder peal, lit up the heavens.
Rain poured down in cataracts, and, as if Aeolus had suddenly released
all his boisterous subjects, the winds rushed from all quarters and came
in conflict in the gap through which the Potomac finds its way to the
Ocean. In the war of winds a fine covered bridge that crossed the
Shenandoah about three hundred yards above the mouth of that river was
lifted from its piers and completely overturned into the bed of the
stream. Mrs. Sloan, a respectable old lady, happened to be on the bridge
at the time and, of course, was carried with it into the river. She was
found shortly after, standing up in a shallow place, and completely
covered over with the debris of the wrecked bridge, but fortunately,
and almost miraculously, she received very little injury.
Having given a sketch of each of the superintendents, the writer thinks
a notice due to the master-armorers, also. Originally, the
superintendents were styled master-armorers, and Messrs. Perkins and
Stubblefield went by this appellation officially. In 1815, however, the
latter gentleman was allowed an assistant to whom that title was
transferred, and that of superintendent was given to the principal
officer. In the above mentioned year, Armistead Beckham was appointed to
the second office in the armory. He was a high-minded gentleman who did
his duty regardless of the clamor of factions and with a stern resolve
to do justice--a difficult task during a portion of his time, as the
administration at Washington was democratic and Mr. Beckham was always
much opposed to President Jackson. The latter, however, could not be
induced to dismiss the honest master-armorer--such was the respect
entertained for the character of that gentleman. In 1830 Mr. Beckham
exchanged with Benjamin Moore, who occupied a similar position in
Pittsburg, each taking the place of the other. In some time after, Mr.
Beckham was appointed superintendent of the Western Penitentiary of
Pennsylvania, in Allegheny City, which position he held until his death,
many years after.
Benjamin Moore was a remarkable person. He was a fine specimen of the
physical man and his mind was on the same scale as his body. He occupied
the position of master-armorer at Harper's Ferry for nineteen years and,
during that time, he introduced an improvement into the manufacture of
arms which is universally admitted to be of utmost advantage, but for
which neither he nor his heirs ever received compensation, although a
claim for it has been pending for many years. His invention was that of
the interchange of the component parts of a gun, which means that any
particular part will suit any gun. The advantage of this plan in field
operations must be at once apparent as, from piles composed of the
various parts of a rifle or musket, a gun can be extemporized to
replace one rendered useless by accident. It is to be hoped that his
descendants may yet reap the benefit of his ingenuity and that justice
may at length be done to the heirs of a man who did so much for the
efficiency of our armies.
Like many other men of studious minds, Mr. Moore had, in many things, a
child-like simplicity. His son, Thomas, was a man of great talent and,
in almost every field of art, his ability was apparent. Among other
agreeable gifts, he possessed that of consummate mimicry. Sometimes he
would disguise himself in the garb of a beggar and meet his father with
the most piteous tale of distress, which never failed to work on the old
gentleman's sympathies to the opening of his purse. Many a dollar did
the son thus obtain from the benevolent father and, when the young man
would throw off his disguise and make himself known, nobody enjoyed the
deception better than the victim. Next day, however, the father was just
as liable to be taken in as before, such was his abstraction of mind,
caused by intense thought on the subject of his invention. He died some
forty years ago, at a ripe old age, covered with honors and with the
happy assurance of the rewards promised for a well-spent life.
Mr. Moore was succeeded in 1849 by James Burton, a young man whose whole
previous life had been devoted to the service of the government at
Harper's Ferry. He was a fine musician and a man of varied
accomplishments. In 1853, he was appointed by the British government to
superintend the manufacture of their Enfield rifle. Shortly before our
civil war, he returned to his native country, and, while the struggle
was in progress, he superintended the manufacture of arms in Richmond.
Mr. Burton died a few years ago in Winchester, Virginia.
He was succeeded in 1853 by Samuel Byington, a good-natured, easy-going
man, who was much respected by all at Harper's Ferry. He died, during
the civil war, at Washington City, to which place he had moved in 1858.
Mr. Byington was succeeded in the year last mentioned, by Benjamin
Mills, a practical gunsmith, of Harrodsburg, Kentucky. Mr. Mills did
not reside very long at Harper's Ferry, returning, in the autumn of
1859, to his former residence. During his stay, however, he met with an
adventure which will be related in the next chapter, and it can be
safely said that, in his experience in the west, he scarcely met with
anything that made a deeper impression on him than what he encountered
on this occasion, or which will bide longer in his memory.
Mr. Mills was succeeded, in 1859, by Armistead M. Ball, a man of
remarkable powers as a machinist. He participated in Mr. Mills'
adventure and, like the latter, no doubt, had a lively recollection of
the affair until his death, which occurred in 1861.
The capacity of the Harper's Ferry armory was from fifteen hundred to
two thousand guns a month, and the muskets and rifles manufactured there
were, generally, considered the best in the world. A good deal has been
heard of the needle-gun, the Chassepot and other guns used by various
nations, which may be all that is claimed for them, but the Harper's
Ferry Rifle Yerger enjoyed in its day a reputation second to no weapon
of the small arms kind under the sun, and it is very doubtful if it will
be much excelled hereafter, notwithstanding the many improvements we
hear of year after year. In the war of the rebellion it went by the name
of the Mississippi Rifle because the troops of that state were the first
of the Confederates to be armed with it.