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

Within a few years the Baltimore and Ohio railroad company have made great changes at Harper's Ferry, enough to alter its appearance very materially. In the summer of 1892 they commenced the cutting of a tunnel of over eight hundred feet in length through the spur of the Maryland Heights that projects over the old track near the railroad bridge. They also commenced at the same time the erection of stone piers to support a new bridge a little northwest of the old one. The course of the road bed in the town has also been changed, for the old trestling has been abandoned and the track has been laid across the eastern end of the old armory grounds and over a part of the site of John Brown's fort. The principal object of this change was to straighten the road and avoid the dangerous curves at the old bridge and also to do away with the perpetual expense of keeping the trestle work in repair. In consequence, the appearance of the place is greatly changed and not for the better, but, happen what may, the eternal mountains will remain, clothed with the verdure of spring and summer, the purple and gold of autumn, or the snowy mantle of winter, according to the season. The noble and historic rivers, too, will pour their allied waters through the awe inspiring chasm which, in the course of bygone ages, their united strength has cut through the gigantic barrier of the Blue Ridge. The Bald Eagle – king of the birds – will sweep in majestic curves around the turret pinnacles of the Alpine Heights or, poised on outspread wings, will survey his unassailable ancestral domain and, if in the garish light of day, the utter loneliness and wildness of the mountains oppress the imagination, the gloaming and the tender moonbeams will mellow the savage grandeur of the scene and invest it with a dreamy and mystical beauty to soften and enhance its sublimity. Besides, whatever may occur in the future, Harper's Ferry has in the past attained a fame of which even Fate itself cannot deprive it and, as long as poetry, romance and a love of the sublime and beautiful in Nature find a home in the human heart, tourists from all the continents and the isles of the sea will visit it, and the day will never come when there will be no enthusiastic lover of freedom to doff his hat at the shrine of John Brown. He was, anyway, a man of honest convictions who fought desperately and died fearlessly for the faith that was in him, and what hero has done more?

Having spent a long and a very long winter's night in a haunted house with a corpse for his only companion, and having been treated with marked consideration by their ghostships in their not bothering him in any way, the writer feels under obligations to give the spirits a puff and keep alive their memory in an age of skepticism. He, therefore, craves the reader's patience while he relates the history of an invisible but exceedingly potent sprite that kept the neighborhood of Harper's Ferry in a terrible ferment for a long time and that to this day gives a name to a thriving village within a short distance of that town. Tourists who come to historic Harper's Ferry never fail to gather all the stories they can, not only of the town itself, but of the surrounding country, and it is partly for their benefit and partly to honor the spirits that treated him so cleverly, that the author gives the following legend. There are but few, indeed, in northern Virginia, who have not heard the tale a thousand times, with endless variations, all accounts, however, agreeing as to the main facts. The author has heard many versions of it, but he will give it as he got it from a gentleman now deceased – an ex-member of Congress and an ex-minister to one of the most important nations of Europe. This gentleman spent much of his youth in the immediate neighborhood of the village where the great mystery occurred and he was on the most intimate terms with one of the families that were conspicuous in the occurrence. Of course, he gave it as he received it himself. He was born when the spirit was rampant, but he got the story fresh from those who were witnesses to the mystery. He was an eminent man and deeply learned – a graduate of Georgetown College – and the writer would give a great deal to be able to relate the story with the inimitable grace of his informant. Of course, he did not believe the legend himself, but he cherished it as a memory of his childhood and as a choice morsel of folklore.

THE LEGEND OF WIZARD CLIP

In the southwest part of Jefferson county, West Virginia, within less than a mile of the Opequon river so famous in the late war, is a drowsy though well-to-do village that rejoices in three names – Middleway, Smithfield and Wizard Clip. The first of these names it got from its being exactly the same distance from Winchester, Martinsburg and Harper's Ferry, and this is the name acknowledged in the postal service. The second name – Smithfield – is derived from a very respectable family of the far extended Smith clan that has resided there a great many years. The last – Wizard Clip – it got from a singular legend, connected with a house that once stood in the outskirts of the village. This building, except a part of the foundation, has long since succumbed to time. Not far from the site of the house is a tract of land known as "The Priest's Field" which at one time belonged to a resident of the aforesaid mansion – a man named Livingstone – but now forms a part of the lands of Mr. Joseph Minghini. In the old burying ground of the village is, or at least was shown a few years ago, a mound known as "The Stranger's Grave" and these singular names will be explained by the story.

Some time about the commencement of the 19th century a Pennsylvanian, named Livingstone, moved from his native state and purchased the farm on which was the residence above referred to. He and his family took possession of the house, and for several years they prospered. Livingstone used to say that he had been unfortunate in life before his moving to Virginia, and he was fond of contrasting his former failures with his success in his new home. He is said to have been a man of a mild and genial disposition, but tradition has it that his better half was of a different temper and that, figuratively, she wore the garment which is supposed to be the 'special prerogative and attribute of the male sex. The facts of our tale, if indeed, they are bona fide facts at all, appear to bear out the popular estimate of the family, with the addition, perhaps, that Mr. Livingstone was of a credulous turn of mind, which exposed him to the machinations of some designing neighbors, who took advantage of his unsophisticated nature and who, perhaps, were not sorry to punish the wife for her lack of amiability. It should be noted that the period of our tale long antedates railroads and steamboats. Goods were then conveyed entirely by horse power and the principal road from Baltimore and Alexandria to southwest Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee passed through Middleway. In consequence, long convoys of wagons were constantly passing along this road which was within a few yards of Livingstone's house. About three miles east of this residence, also on this road, lived an Irish family, named McSherry, from whom are sprung the many highly respectable people of that name who now adorn nearly every learned profession in West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, especially that of medicine. Between these two residences lived Joseph Minghini – an Italian – the grandfather of the gentleman referred to as now owning the tract of land called "The Priest's Field." The Minghini of our tale had accompanied the famous general Charles Lee from Italy when that eccentric character was obliged to fly from the land of Caesars, but finding himself disappointed in his patron had set up for himself in the neighborhood of Middleway. So much for a preface and now for our story.

One evening a stranger called at Livingstone's house and asked for a night's lodging. This was accorded to him cheerfully by Livingstone and, in justice to the lady of the house, it must be recorded that tradition is silent on the subject of what she thought of her husband's hospitality and, being an impartial chronicler, the writer will give her the benefit of any doubt on the subject, especially as it turned out afterwards that she had good reason to regret her having "taken in the stranger." The family and their guest conversed for a good part of the night, as is customary in Virginia on such occasions, and the new acquaintances separated about 10 o'clock, Mr. Livingstone conducting the stranger to a sleeping apartment and then betaking himself to his own. After having slept some time, the master of the house awoke and became aware of queer noises coming from the direction of his guest's apartment. He arose, knocked at the stranger's door and inquired what was the matter. The occupant replied that he was very sick and that he had a presentment that he could not live 'till daylight. At the same time he entreated that a Catholic priest should be sent for to shrive him – that he had been brought up in the Catholic faith, but that he had neglected religion when in health. Now he would gladly accept its consolations, for he felt himself to be in extremis. Livingstone replied that he knew of no priest of that faith anywhere near, and that he could not hope to find one closer than in Maryland. He remarked, however, that he had neighbors who were Catholics – meaning the McSherrys and the Minghinis – and that they might set him on the track make inquiries of those people. On this, the wife who, too, had been aroused, and woman-like, was listening to the conversation became very angry and told her husband that, if he was fool enough to start out on such a wild-goose chase, she would take good care to thwart him, even if he succeeded in finding the clergyman, which was unlikely enough. She was determined, she said, to hinder any Romish priest from entering her house, and that the best thing Livingstone could do was to return to his bed and leave the stranger to his fate. The good-natured and well-disciplined husband submitted and again retired to slumber. Next morning the guest did not appear for breakfast and Livingstone, a good deal alarmed, went to the stranger's room and found him dead. The neighbors of the family knew nothing of these occurrences, and the Livingstones would not be likely to say much about them, unless they were driven to a disclosure by the pangs of terror and remorse. They, however, had the corpse on their hands, and, of course, the fact of the death could not be concealed. A few neighbors were notified, and the unknown was committed to nameless grave.

No other designation can be given to him than "the unknown" because the stranger had not revealed to the family his name or anything connected with his history, except in the few remorseful words to Livingstone, when he confessed to the sinfulness of his life. No clue was ever found to his name, family or nationality, but, as the Livingstones did not report any peculiarity in his accent, it is to be inferred that he was an American by birth or very long residence.

On the return of the family from the funeral late in the evening they built a good fire and took their seats around it, discussing, no doubt, the untoward occurrences of the previous night, when, suddenly the logs jumped, all ablaze, from the fireplace and whirled around the floor in a weird dance, sputtering sparks all about the room and seeming to be endowed with demoniacal power and intelligence. Poor Livingstone, too, danced around, trying to put out the fire, but it took him a long time to do so, and no sooner had he thrown the smoldering sticks back into the fireplace than they jumped out again and went through the same performance as before, and Livingstone was again obliged to hustle for the safety of his house. This was repeated at short intervals until daylight, and the family did not get a moment's rest during that memorable night. How the amiable lady of the house managed to cook breakfast, tradition does not say, but from the fact that nothing is related of suffering by the Livingstones from hunger, it is to be presumed that the "spook" let up on them for a little while and allowed them to get something to eat.

Worn out, scared and disconsolate, the hapless Livingstone walked down to the road that passed his house, the highway before referred to, and was immediately greeted by a rough wagoner, who had stopped his team and who wanted to know why the devil Livingstone had stretched a rope across the highway and fastened it to a tree on either side, so as to impede travel. Livingstone knew that there were trees, as the wagoner said, on both sides of the road, but he saw no rope and wondered what the apparently drunken teamster meant by accusing him of such an absurd thing. The driver angrily demanded that the obstruction be removed at once and Livingstone disdained to make any reply, the infuriated teamster drew a knife and slashed at the rope, but the blade met with no resistance and, while the obstruction was palpable to his eye, it was but an airy nothing to his touch. It was now the wagoner's turn to be amazed. He knew not whether to offer an apology or not and, while he was still pondering the matter, another team arrived and its driver went through the same performance as the other, with the same result. At length, Livingstone mildly suggested that they should drive on, regardless of the intangible rope and so they did and passed along without difficulty, attributing their delusion, no doubt, to the bad whiskey of the neighborhood. Soon, however, other teams arrived and again the spectre rope was in the way and again were repeated the perplexity and the profanity of the first encounter. Every new arrival brought the luckless Livingstone a fresh cursing, and so it was kept up for several weeks. In the course of time, the demon, now acknowledged to be around the place, adopted a new method of annoyance. A sharp, clipping noise, as if from a pair of invisible shears, was heard all through and around the house and, worse yet, all the clothes of the family, their table cloths and bed coverings were cut and gashed, the slits being all in the shape of a crescent. Of course, the news of these unearthly doings soon spread, and people from all directions crowded to see and hear what was going on. There are still preserved in some families pocket-handkerchiefs that were folded in the pockets of their owners when they visited the place, but, yet, were cut and marked in his peculiar way by the demon of the scissors that kept up his "clip-clip" around them while they were condoling with the afflicted family. One lady visitor was complimenting Mrs. Livingstone on a fine flock of ducks that were waddling through her yard on their way, perhaps, to the neighboring Opequon, when "clip-clip" went the uncanny and invisible shears and one after another the ducks were all cleanly decapitated in broad daylight before the very eyes of the ladies and many other witnesses.

At that time there lived in Middleway a German tailor, who, though fully imbued with the mysticism of his native country, yet regarded with contempt all vulgar superstitions, or what he considered to be such. He boasted that he would stay all night alone in the house supposed to be haunted and that, if he had time enough to spare for the purpose, he could expose the imposture of the wizard clipping. He had just finished a suit of broad cloth for a neighboring planter and had made up the clothes in a neat package, when on his way to deliver them he passed Livingstone's house, grinning at the folly of his neighbors in believing that the place was tenanted by an evil spirit. "Clip-clip" went the terrible scissors around the ears of the German who, in the plenitude of his incredulity, invited the author of the sounds to "go for damn." He proceeded to the house of his employer, opened his bundle with professional confidence and pride, to exhibit his model suit, when, lo! and behold! he found the clothes full of the crescent shaped slits and utterly ruined.

The excitement continued to spread and far and near extended the fame of "Wizard Clip." One night a party of youngsters of both sexes assembled at the house for a frolic, got up by the young men of the neighborhood, who desired to show to the world and especially to their sweethearts that they were not afraid, whoever else might be so, and curiosity led many young ladies to the scene, in spite of the terrors of the place. They were, perhaps, desirous to test the courage of their lovers, and trusted for protection to the big crowd in attendance. One rough, blustering fellow came all the way from Winchester, carrying his rifle. He was courting a girl of the neighborhood of Livingstone's place, and he determined to show off to the best possible advantage. Things proceeded smoothly for awhile, and the young people were engaged in a dance when, suddenly, "clip-clip" went the goblin shears, and the Winchester hero felt something flap against the calves of his legs. He reached down to investigate and found, to his consternation, that the most important part of his nether garment had been cut loose from the waist band and that there was nothing left for him to do but sit down and keep on sitting 'till the festivities were over. His condition soon became known to the others and, great as the terrors of the situation were, nothing could prevent the company from tittering, until the hapless hero found his plight so painful that he resolved to leave the house, which, for the sake of delicacy, he was obliged to do by backing to the door, while the ladies coyly looked in another direction. Numberless are the tales related of the queer doings of the demon with his invisible and diabolical scissors. Poor Livingstone lost heart and even his wife's masculine courage gave way. The whole neighboring country was, of course, intensely excited. One night Livingstone had a dream. He thought he was at the foot of a hill on the top of which was a man dressed in sacerdotal garments and appearing to be engaged in some religious ceremony. While looking towards this strange man, the afflicted dreamer became aware of the presence with him of some disembodied spirit that whispered to him that the man in the priestly garb could relieve him from his great trouble. He awoke and immediately formed the resolution to appeal to some minister of the gospel to exorcise his tormentor – the fiend of the "clip." He applied to his own pastor, a Lutheran preacher who, of course, had heard of the affair, as had everybody in the state. To please Livingstone, the reverend gentleman visited the haunted house, but he experienced a reception so hot that he concluded not to try issues any more with so potent a spirit, and he left without accomplishing anything. Livingstone now remembered that the minister of his vision wore priestly vestments and, on the failure of his own pastor, he concluded that the party to help him must be one who was usually arrayed with such adjuncts in the performance of his rites. The Catholic, or perhaps the Protestant Episcopal must, therefore, be the denomination for him to seek aid from, and he found out from the Minghinis and the McSherrys that a certain Father Cahill, who used robes such as he had seen in the dream, would, on a certain day, be at Shepherdstown, about ten miles away, to hold Catholic service. They promised Livingstone an introduction to the priest, and on the day specified they accompanied their unhappy neighbor to the church meeting. At the first sight, Livingstone recognized in Father Cahill the minister he had seen in the dream, and falling on his knees and with tears streaming down his cheeks, begged to be relieved from the thralldom of the evil one. Having been questioned by the priest, he gave the whole history, including the unkindness to the stranger guest. Father Cahill, who was a jovial, big-fisted Irishman, alive as the Lutheran minister had been, to the absurdity of the whole affair, tried to convince the sufferer that he was merely the victim of some malicious practical jokers of his neighborhood. It was all in vain, however, to try to dispel Livingstone's fears, and for sheer pity and, perhaps, Irishman-like, not being averse to a shindy even with the devil himself, the good father consented to accompany Livingstone home, and do all he could to relieve him. At that time a Catholic priest was something heard of with awe and superstitious dread in Virginia, but very rarely seen there, and it is likely that the perpetrators of the outrage on the hapless family were themselves victims of an unreasonable fear of something that was formidable only from its rarity and from attributes that existed only in their own ignorant and untrained imaginations. Anyway, it is recorded that never after the visit of Father Cahill were the diabolical scissors heard, and from that time peace again reigned in the Livingstone household, but the name of "Wizard Clip" still clings to the village and, it is to be hoped, that the legend will not be allowed to die out for, laugh as we may at those old time tales, they have a charm for even the most prosaic and skeptical. John Brown's fort is lost, forever, to Virginia, but it is a matter for thankfulness that, while brick and mortar can be disposed of to satisfy the love of gain, the traditions of a people cannot be converted into money and that sentiment cannot be sold by the square foot. Land-marks are more easily destroyed than folklore.

In gratitude to Father Cahill, Livingstone before his death deeded to the Catholic church thirty-four acres of land, and this tract is what has ever since been named "The Priest's Field." The clergy of that faith, however, renounce all claim to the place because, no doubt, they felt that nothing in the spiritual ministration of Father Cahill contributed or was intended by him to contribute towards the object Livingstone had in view – the expulsion of a veritable demon. Father Cahill, like the Lutheran minister, went to the house merely as a friend and not in the character of an exorciser of a real spirit and, if the rascals who so cruelly tormented their harmless neighbor were more afraid of the priest than of the other minister, with whom they were no doubt familiar, it was no reason why a claim should be set up by the former of superior influence with Heaven. Mr. McSherry and Mr. Minghini were made trustees of the property, but by common consent, the land was left with the Minghinis and it is now theirs by prescription, perhaps. In the county clerk's office in Charlestown, Jefferson county, West Virginia, can be seen the deed made by Livingstone and wife to Denis Cahill, the supposed exorciser of the fiend. It will be found in Book No. 1 of the County Records, and it conveys the title to thirty-four acres of land – "The Priest's Field" – to Father Cahill and his successors. Our esteemed friend Clerk Alexander will be glad to show it to anyone curious to see it. The deed is dated February 21st, 1802.

Within about eight miles of Harpers Ferry is a sleepy hamlet which has quite a history in connection with several prominent men of the Revolution. It is called Leetown, and it has been heretofore mentioned in this history as the scene of a brisk skirmish in the war of the rebellion. As before noted in this book, it got its name from General Charles Lee who, after the censures incurred by him for his conduct at the battle of Monmouth, buried himself here in gloomy seclusion. Very near this village is also a house occupied by General Horatio Gates, of more honorable fame in our war for independence, and still another revolutionary general – Darke – lived in the immediate neighborhood of the place. So, then, a sauntering tourist might spend a little time pleasantly enough in visiting the neighborhood. It is but a few minutes' drive from "Wizard Clip" and a curiosity seeker might easily take in many noteworthy sights in the course of a day's jaunt from Harper's Ferry. About five miles north of Leetown and in the immediate neighborhood of the battlefield of Antietam, is Shepherdstown, which is, or at least ought to be known to fame, as the home of James Rumsey who, it has been pretty clearly proven, was the first to apply steam power to purposes of navigation. On the Potomac, at Shepherdstown or Mecklenburg, as it was then called, was the first experiment made of propelling a boat by steam power, and the trial was made with success by Rumsey. In his life-time he was regarded by his acquaintances as a visionary, if not a decided maniac, but time has vindicated him, although the honor of the invention has been generally assumed to belong to others. There can be but little doubt that Rumsey anticipated all the other claimants for the fame of the invention, although with them, too, it may be said to be original, as they probably knew nothing of Rumsey or what he had accomplished. Shepherdstown has a war record, also, for in a day or two after the battle of Antietam, a detachment of federal troops having crossed the Potomac into Virginia at the ford near the town, they were badly defeated by a force of the rebel army that attacked them unexpectedly.

Some ten or twelve years ago, a stranger arrived at Harper's Ferry and, without letting any one know what his business was, he purchased a pick and shovel, hired a horse and buggy, and drove up the Potomac taking the implements with him. He proceeded towards Shepherdstown, appearing to be very familiar with the road. When he arrived within a mile of the latter place, he halted, tied his horse to something available and looked around inquiringly. It took him but a short time to find what he wanted, for in a few minutes he approached a large tree and plied vigorously his pick and then his shovel around the roots. His labor was not in vain, for soon he exposed to view a fair sized box which he immediately transferred to the buggy, and at once returned to Harper's Ferry, without deigning to satisfy the curiosity of some parties who were attracted to the spot by the sight of him at work. It is generally supposed that he himself had buried a considerable treasure at the place while he was hard pressed by enemies at some time while the late war was in progress, and that, deeming it safe, and not being much in want of money, he had left it in its concealment for nearly thirty years. Some advanced the dream theory – that, in his sleep he had a vision of the buried treasure, but the stranger kept his own counsel and departed on the next railroad train for parts unknown.