Chapter 3

the head identified and delivered to the proper authorities at
Pittsburgh ... and the captors received the merited reward.” This
last point is plainly an echo of Mason’s fate.

This story of the activities of the early renegades of
civilization, and of the river pirates who occupied the Cave bears
upon its face the stamp of truth that fits neatly into practically
all traditions from about 1795 to about 1820.

Before Mason became famous, however, greater scoundrels than he
were to attract public attention, and hold it for some years.
The story of the Harpes--“Big” and “Little” Harpe--is one that
may freeze the blood as read now in the light of old records and
personal accounts that seem to bring the reader into the very
presence of these two brutes. In the security of law and order in
these days the facts seem remote, but when the sparse settlement of
the West in 1799 is realized, and the further fact that wilderness
hospitality opened doors to all travelers and admitted these
monsters freely with good people, it is possible then to conceive
the horror their deeds and presence aroused.

The Harpes--A Terrible Frontier Story

The career of the two Harpes«4» in Tennessee, southern Illinois,
and Kentucky, particularly Kentucky, at the close of the eighteenth
century has rarely been equalled in the history of crime, either in
peace or war. Its beginning was so sudden, its motives wrapped in
such mystery, its race so swift, and its circumstances so terrible
and unbelievably brutal as to justify Collins, the distinguished
historian of Kentucky, in referring to the brothers as “the most
brutal monsters of the human race.”

At that time, 1798–99, Kentucky had a pioneer population of about
two hundred thousand, which was largely centered in the new
trading and agricultural towns in the eastern part and in the rich
bluegrass country. The remainder of the state, except along the
water courses, was well nigh a wilderness. In the southern and
western portions buffalo grazed, and bear were plentiful. East
Tennessee, where the scourge of crime began, was even more sparsely
settled. This pioneer population was vigorous, rude, and accustomed
even to Indian atrocities. Among the settlers were many who, as
fugitives from justice, had deliberately sought seclusion from the
eastern states because of criminal offenses. The Ohio River was
infested with inland pirates, and the early rivermen themselves
were a rough and violent type. Isolation led well-meaning pioneers
to be generous and confiding to those whom they had tested, but
to a great degree might was right, and strangers looked askance at
each other and were prepared for the worst.

Yet such a rude and hardy people as these were gripped with horror
at the atrocities of the Harpes, at their often unmeaning and
unprovoked murders. It is difficult in these days of well ordered
government to realize the mysterious terror and excitement that
began near Knoxville in 1798 and swept through the wilderness to
the borders of the Mississippi, and across the Ohio into Illinois
like some sudden, creeping fire that breaks out in underbrush, and
grows steadily in intensity and rage until it sweeps forests before
it. All this was, in a measure, realized in the breasts of human
beings as the hideous crimes of the Harpes increased.

Aside from the wars and the recorded importances of political
development, the episode of the Harpes is the most astounding event
in the early life of the Middle West. It engaged the memory of men
for forty years, and the pens of numerous historians, and writers
of memoir have been occupied with it ever since. In the main the
story has been well preserved, but in the details there has been
the variation that grows with repetition. The most dignified
historians have not disdained to seek the minute details attaching
to the persons and actions of these two men from the moment they
began their criminal career to the thrilling blood-chase in which
the older brother was captured and killed, and the younger escaped
into exile and to an even more dramatic and terrible death.

To this day the story of “The Harpes” and “Harpe’s Head” is told
about firesides in the Cave-in-Rock country, in southern and
western Kentucky and in eastern Tennessee. It has been perpetuated
in folk ballads and written by scores of pens. [93]

It is the purpose here to bring together the many threads of the
tale as they have been verified and corrected by original records
sought from Wisconsin to New Orleans, and from Knoxville to
Cave-in-Rock and the Mississippi River.

Judge James Hall, while living in Illinois, wrote a brief account
of one of the crimes committed by these outlaws, and in April,
1824, published it in _The Port Folio_ of Philadelphia. In his
introductory remarks he comments: “Neither avarice nor want nor
any of the usual inducements to the commission of crime, seemed
to govern their conduct. A savage thirst for blood--a deep-rooted
enmity against human nature, could alone be discovered in their
actions.... Plunder was not their object; they took only what would
have been freely given them, and no more than what was necessary
to supply the immediate wants of nature; they destroyed without
having suffered injury, and without the prospect of benefit....
Mounted on fine horses they plunged into the forest, eluded pursuit
by frequently changing their course, and appeared unexpectedly to
perpetrate new horrors, at points distant from those where they
were supposed to lurk.”

Judge Hall, up to that time, had done little more than describe
one of their last crimes, yet _The Cincinnati Literary Gazette_,
May 28, 1825, came out with a statement admitting that there may
have been two outlaws by the name of Harpe, but added: “We have
no hesitation in asserting that their history, as published in
_The Port Folio_, is unworthy of belief.... The horrible details
concerning these men ... such disgusting sketches of human
depravity and barbarism manifest either a vitiated taste or a total
disregard of the morals of the community.”

As far as is now known, at least two papers published in the
month following came to the defense of Judge Hall’s account. _The
Illinois Gazette_, of Shawneetown, among other things, declared:
“The depravity and bloodshed which marked their existence ... are
circumstances too strongly impressed upon the recollections of our
early settlers to be contradicted at this date.”

_The Columbian_, of Henderson, Kentucky, in a half column article
devoted to the same subject, asserts: “The account published in
_The Port Folio_ is correct in every essential point.... However it
may be regretted that such monsters as the Harpes ever should have
existed to disgrace humanity, yet it is an uncontrovertible fact.” [56]

In the August, 1825, issue of _The Port Folio_ Judge Hall published
an account of another murder committed by the Harpes--the killing
of Thomas Langford, who was among their first victims in Kentucky.
In the same number he devotes a few pages to a verification of the
statements he published then and a few months previous. And before
half had been told about the Harpes, _The Cincinnati Literary
Gazette_ was convinced of its error in doubting and disputing the
veracity of Judge Hall. Judge Hall wrote several pages justifying
the publication of the weird and wonderful facts of the career of
the Harpes. His arguments published in 1825 in his own defense hold
good today and may be equally well applied to the story of the
Harpes here given, which, as far as is known, is the first attempt
to compile a complete history of these notorious outlaws:

“If it is intended to be objected, that these ‘horrid details,’
even if true, are not proper for publication--I reply, that
whatever tends to develop the history or character of a people, is
a legitimate subject of public discussion. History to be of any
value must be true. It must disclose not only the truth but the
whole truth. In vain would the historian seek this in the frail
monuments vaguely preserved in the uncertain legend of tradition.
He must resort to national records and to the testimony of writers
contemporary with the events which he attempts to describe, and
if the latter abstain from the narration of ‘disgusting sketches
of human depravity and barbarism,’ history must be curtailed
of her most fruitful source of incident, and men and nations
stripped of their boldest peculiarity. It is perhaps forgotten
that ‘depravity and barbarism’ constitute almost the sole basis
of history, tragedy, and the epic song; that kings and courts are
nothing without them; that they revel amid ‘the pomp, pride, and
circumstance of glorious war;’ and stand forth in bold relief in
every department of civil subordination. It is to be deplored that
such is the fact; but while crime and folly continue to predominate
in the affairs of men, they will be found to swell the pages of
those who attempt to exhibit correct pictures of human nature.

“In describing the American backwoodsmen, a class of men peculiar
to our country, I have thought it proper to introduce among other
authentic anecdotes the story of the Harpes. My object was to
display as well the extraordinary sufferings to which the earliest
emigrants to the western country were exposed, as the courage with
which they met and repelled those hardships.”

The Harpes were believed to be brothers. They were natives of North
Carolina. Micajah, known as Big Harpe, was born about 1768, and
Wiley, known as Little Harpe, was born about 1770. Their father
was said to have been a Tory who fought under the British flag at
King’s Mountain and took part in a number of other battles against
the colonists. Before the close of the Revolution and immediately
thereafter many of the Tories living in the south Atlantic colonies
fled toward the Mississippi. Those who still sympathized with the
King of England and continued to live in the “Old States” were, in
most sections, ostracized by their neighbors. It was to this class
that the parents of the Harpes belonged; and it was, therefore, in
an environment of hatred for and by neighbors that the two sons
grew up.

About the year 1840 Colonel G. W. Sevier, son of Governor John
Sevier, in an interview with Lyman C. Draper, the historian, stated
that Big Harpe, when asked shortly before he was killed why he had
committed so many crimes, answered that he had been badly treated
and consequently had become disgusted with all mankind. [12G] The
same statement is made by J. W. M. Breazeale, another well-known
early Tennesseean, who had lived in Knoxville the greater part of
his life and had investigated the careers of the outlaws.

One writer attributes their acts of fiendish inhumanity to the fact
that they believed every man’s life, whether good, indifferent or
bad, was predestined and that the All Wise had foreordained for
them a hatred of humanity and a career of crime. [121] Draper, in
his “Sketch of the Harpes,” comments on the fact that “their tawny
appearance and dark curly hair betrayed a tinge of African blood
coursing through their veins.”

Criminologists may or may not agree as to the underlying cause of
the great thirst for blood possessed by the Harpes, but the fact
that they were the most savage and terrible characters in this
period of American history cannot be disputed.

About the year 1795 the two men, accompanied by Susan Roberts and
Betsey Roberts, left North Carolina for Tennessee. Susan claimed
to be the legal wife of Big Harpe, whereas Betsey merely posed as
such. Big Harpe, however, claimed both women as his wives. The
Harpes cared as little for the laws of matrimony as for any other
laws and the legality or illegality of anything they did was a
matter of indifference to them.

The two men and their women roamed in central Tennessee about two
years. Most of their time was spent with a few stray Creek and
Cherokee Indians who at the time were ostracized by their tribes
and were committing atrocities against their own people as well
as against the whites. The Harpes joined the savages in their
outrages, and not only encouraged them in their bloody deeds, but
gave them many demonstrations showing to what extent barbarity
could be practiced. Asleep or awake they were armed with tomahawks
and knives and never took a step from camp without a gun. They were
always prepared to shed blood for the satisfaction of shedding it,
or to resist arrest should any attempt be made to capture them.
They lived like man-eating animals. The women as well as the men
wore leather hunting shirts and moccasins made from the untanned
skin of animals they killed. They never wore hats except in the
coldest weather and then used the kind they “whanged” together with
deer skin thongs. [121]

Some time during 1797 the four left middle Tennessee for the new
settlement of Knoxville. While wandering toward the eastern part
of the state they met a young Methodist preacher named William
Lambuth, who was traveling through the wilderness alone. They
robbed him and among his belongings found a Bible. In turning the
leaves, looking for bank bills, Big Harpe discovered on the front
page, written in plain letters the names “William Lambuth” and
“George Washington.” Pointing to the name of the General, Harpe
remarked: “That is a brave and good man, but a mighty rebel against
the King.” The articles found in Lambuth’s possession convinced
the Harpes that he was a preacher, whereupon they returned to him
not only his Bible but also the gun, the little money, and the
horse they had taken. Then abruptly turning from him and shouting,
“We are the Harpes,” they quickly disappeared. This is probably
the only instance in the lives of the Harpes, after the beginning
of their murderous career, when they had anyone, old or young, in
their power, and showed less than a fiendish barbarity. [121]

Obeying the principle that birds of a feather flock together,
the Harpes, it seems, were attracted toward the new settlement
of Knoxville. In March, 1798, James Weir, on his way from South
Carolina to Kentucky, spent a few days in the town. Writing of his
short stay there he says:

“In the infant town of Knox the houses are irregular and
interspersed. It was County Court day when I came. The town was
confused with a promiscuous throng of every denomination. Some
talked, some sang, and mostly all did profanely swear. I stood
aghast, my soul shrank back to hear the horrid oaths and dreadful
indignities offered to the Supreme Governor of the Universe, who
with one frown is able to shake them into non-existence. There was
what I never did see before, viz., on Sunday, dancing, singing,
and playing of cards, etc.... It was said by a gentleman of the
neighborhood that ‘the Devil is grown so old that it renders him
incapable of traveling and that he has taken up in Knoxville and
there hopes to spend the remaining part of his days in tranquility,
as he believes he is among his friends,’ but as it is not a good
principle to criticise the conduct of others, I shall decline it
with this general reflection, that there are some men of good
principles in all places, but often more bad ones to counterbalance
them.” [109]

The Harpes doubtless felt they could better gratify their thirst
for blood in the vicinity of a settlement like Knoxville than in
a wide wilderness where subjects for their cruelty were too few.
They found a small tract of cleared land on Beaver Creek, about
eight miles west of Knoxville. Upon this they built a log cabin for
themselves, and a pen for their horses, and, in order to conceal
their motives, cultivated a few acres of ground. Under this feint
of honest occupation they experienced no difficulty in gaining the
confidence of their neighbors. In fact, so easily had they made a
favorable impression that within a few weeks after their arrival
Little Harpe married Sarah or Sally Rice, a daughter of John Rice,
a preacher living about four miles north of the Harpe hut.

In the meantime the two brothers made trips to the seat of justice,
for then, as now, the occasion and the desire “to go to town” to
see “what’s going on” was a common one among the people who lived
in the country. Swapping horses was then, and still is to a great
extent, one of the features of a day at the small court house
towns. So when, on one of their first trips to Knoxville, the
Harpes brought with them a fine three-year-old mare and offered
to run her in a race, no suspicion was aroused. The horse was
apparently superior to any other in town that day and no owner
could be induced to venture his quarter nag against her. A Mr.
Aycoff, recognizing the mare as an unusually good one, bought her
and became so attached to the animal that he kept her almost a
quarter of a century. It is interesting to note that twenty years
after he purchased her, a gentleman from Georgia, visiting near
Knoxville, recognized her as the filly that had been stolen from
him many years before. [12G]

The Harpes rapidly increased the number of their trips to town, but
it was soon noticed that with each succeeding visit their supply
of pork and mutton increased. They sold this meat to John Miller,
one of the most respected merchants of Knoxville, through whom
the Harpe hams soon became well known. But the reputation of the
two brothers for drinking and gambling, and the disturbances they
raised in the village were sufficient to arouse suspicion in the
community. By this and other evidence John Miller was convinced
that the Harpes were hog thieves, and suspected that their
dishonesty and meanness had no limit. [12G]

Soon after the arrival of the Harpes in east Tennessee a number of
houses and stables near Knoxville were set on fire and many of them
burned to the ground. As no motive for such destruction of property
could be discovered, the citizens attributed it to downright
rascality. So strong had become suspicion against the Harpes that
when Edward Tiel, who lived a mile from Knoxville, discovered that
several of his best horses had been stolen, he enlisted a number
of neighbors and immediately proceeded to the home of the Harpes.
The investigators found that the cabin had been deserted recently,
but noticed indications that horses had been tied to some near-by
trees. Tiel and his men took up the trail and followed it across
Clinch River into the Cumberland Mountains. There they captured
the two Harpes who were alone at the time. The stolen horses were
recovered, but when the captors and their prisoners reached a point
about five miles northeast of Knoxville, the horse thieves made
their escape. [21]

Tiel and his men tried to effect their recapture but, failing
in the attempt, returned to Knoxville. That same night the two
Harpes appeared at Hughes’ “rowdy groggery,” a few miles west of
Knoxville, where they had gone to exercise their brutality before
leaving Tennessee. Hughes, his wife’s two brothers, named Metcalfe,
and a man named Johnson, living in Jefferson County, were present
when the Harpes, who knew the men, rushed in. Johnson was last
seen alive there. A few days later his body was discovered in the
Holstein River. It had been ripped open, filled with stones, and
thrown into the water. Notwithstanding this excess of caution the
stones became loosened and the corpse rose to the surface. When
the body was discovered Hughes and the Metcalfes came forth with a
declaration that the Harpes had committed the crime. Suspicion fell
upon the accusers and as the two Harpes were nowhere to be found,
the three men were arrested and put in jail. They were acquitted on
trial, due to lack of evidence. The Metcalfes immediately fled the
country. A party of “regulators” followed Hughes to his groggery,
gave him a whipping, pulled down his house and drove him out of the
country. [12G]

The killing of Johnson, as far as is known, seems to have been
the first of the murders committed by the Harpes. Up to this time
they had apparently confined their operations to stealing hogs and
horses, and setting fire to houses. They now began a career of
ruthless murder which was so bold that it not only terrified the
citizens of Tennessee and Kentucky, but also alarmed settlers in
many other sections of the Middle West.

The Harpes evidently had arranged to meet their three women
associates at some definite point if they should for any reason
find it necessary to separate. Shortly after the killing of Johnson
the five met in western Virginia, near Cumberland Gap, and there,
in December, 1798, they entered Kentucky--the “dark and bloody
ground,” to be made even darker by the deeds they were to commit
during the next twelve months.

They traveled the Wilderness Road more or less closely, leaving
it only when they felt their safety demanded a detour. Their
first victim in Kentucky was a peddler named Peyton, whom they
encountered near the Cumberland River in what is now Knox County.
They killed him and took his horse and some of his goods, but the
details of this deed are not known. [21]

The outlaws continued along this trail toward Crab Orchard and
Stanford, in Lincoln County, and overtook two Marylanders named
Paca and Bates. Night came on and it was proposed that the party
camp on the first suitable spot. This was agreed upon, but the
Harpes managed not to find a desirable place until it grew dark.
Suddenly, as if by accident, the brothers changed positions, Big
Harpe getting behind Bates and Little Harpe behind Paca, the women
walking about thirty feet in the rear. The Harpes fired and the
two unfortunate Marylanders fell. Bates died instantly. A few
minutes later Paca, who was badly crippled and knocked speechless,
attempted to rise. Big Harpe rushed up to the struggling man,
“splitting open his head with a hatchet or tomahawk he carried in
his belt.” The Harpes, being in need of some clothing, appropriated
only such garments as were immediately useful. They took, however,
all the gold and silver and Continental coin found in possession of
their victims. [121]

The villains continued along the Wilderness Road and one night in
December, 1798, arrived at a public house kept by John Farris in
what is now Rockcastle County, not many miles from Crab Orchard.
With them came Stephen Langford, of Virginia, who was on his way
to Crab Orchard to visit a kinsman and to consider making that
locality his home. Langford probably had not met the Harpes until
that morning. The story of what took place after they met was
related about a quarter of a century later by Judge James Hall,
who, in his day, ranked among the best living authors in America,
and whose statements were then, and have been ever since, cited
as high authority. His story of their encounter with Langford was
first published in August, 1825, in _The Port Folio_. After making
some slight revisions in his “Story of the Harpes” he republished
the sketch in 1828 in his _Letters from the West_, from which book
his account of the Langford tragedy is here quoted:

“In the autumn of the year 1799, a young gentleman, named Langford,
of a respectable family in Mecklenburgh County, Virginia, set out
from this state for Kentucky, with the intention of passing through
the Wilderness, as it was then called, by the route generally known
as Boone’s Trace. On reaching the vicinity of the Wilderness, a
mountainous and uninhabited tract, which at that time separated the
settled parts of Kentucky from those of Virginia, he stopped to
breakfast at a public house near Big Rockcastle River. Travelers
of this description--any other indeed than hardy wood men--were
unwilling to pass singly through this lonely region; and they
generally waited on its confines for others, and traveled through
in parties. Mr. Langford, either not dreading danger, or not
choosing to delay, determined to proceed alone. While breakfast was
preparing, the Harpes and their women came up. Their appearance
denoted poverty, with but little regard to cleanliness; two very
indifferent horses, with some bags swung across them, and a rifle
gun or two, comprised nearly their whole equipage. Squalid and
miserable, they seemed objects of pity, rather than of fear, and
their ferocious glances were attributed more to hunger than to
guilty passion. They were entire strangers in that neighborhood,
and, like Mr. Langford, were about to cross the Wilderness. When
breakfast was served, the landlord, as was customary at such
places in those times, invited all the persons who were assembled
in the common, perhaps the only room of his little inn, to sit
down; but the Harpes declined, alleging their want of money as the
reason. Langford, who was of a lively, generous disposition, on
hearing this, invited them to partake of the meal at his expense;
they accepted the invitation, and ate voraciously. When they had
thus refreshed themselves, and were about to renew their journey,
Mr. Langford called for the bill, and in the act of discharging
it imprudently displayed a handful of silver. They then set out
together.

“A few days after, some men who were conducting a drove of cattle
to Virginia, by the same road which had been traveled by Mr.
Langford and the Harpes, had arrived within a few miles of Big
Rockcastle River, when their cattle took fright, and, quitting the
road, rushed down a hill into the woods. In collecting them, the
drovers discovered the dead body of a man concealed behind a log,
and covered with brush and leaves. It was now evident that the
cattle had been alarmed by the smell of blood in the road, and, as
the body exhibited marks of violence, it was at once suspected that
a murder had been perpetrated but recently. The corpse was taken to
the same house where the Harpes had breakfasted, and recognized to
be that of Mr. Langford, whose name was marked upon several parts
of his dress. Suspicion fell upon the Harpes, who were pursued and
apprehended near Crab Orchard. They were taken to Stanford....”

The killing of the two Marylanders and the peddler was not known
until many weeks thereafter. The report of the murder of Langford
spread like wildfire. _The Kentucky Gazette_, January 2, 1799, in a
characteristically brief paragraph gave sufficient details of the
discovery of the body on December 14 to impress its readers with
the seriousness of an act of barbarity that might be repeated by
the Harpes at any time. “We also learn,” says this paragraph, “that
Mr. Ballenger is in pursuit of them, with a determined resolution
never to quit the chase until he has secured them.”

Captain Joseph Ballenger, the organizer and leader of the pursuing
party, was a prominent merchant of Stanford, Lincoln County. He and
his men trailed the Harpes and their women to the neighborhood of
what was then Carpenter’s Station, a settlement near the present
town of Hustonville and about eight miles southwest of Stanford.
There Ballenger discovered them sitting on a log, evidently
confident that no one could detect their whereabouts. [12F] The
pursuers rushed on them so suddenly that resistance or escape was
impossible.«5»

The five prisoners were taken to Stanford, placed in jail and,
about ten days later, tried before the Court of Quarter Sessions.

Hall’s story of the frontier tragedy, based on personal accounts
that had survived for a quarter of a century, has already been
given. It is brief and is correct as far as it goes, but while
Hall was hearing it from the lips of men who had it from those
concerned with the vengeance of the law, there lay in the custody
of the records of the backwoods court of Lincoln County, the grim
details of that crime of base ingratitude and cruelty in solitude
which so shook the Wilderness. They had lain there forgotten
more than a century when they were found and examined in 1918.
Yellowed with age, written with the goose-quill pen of that period
in a penmanship characteristic of the pioneers, a jumble of half
narrative, half legal style, much of which, however, is in use in
courts today, these records of a terrible episode in history are
eloquent with interest.

The piling up of item on item of court forms, of testimony
laboriously written out and signed, of official jail accounts for
the handling of the criminals, tells in its own way every detail
of a crime committed in fancied obscurity yet which by a series of
fortunate circumstances, was to blaze into a notoriety that set
all the West on fire with fear and horror. One who holds these
long-forgotten records in his hands and curiously searches them
could, with patience and without the aid of imagination, build up
the story of frontier life and the people who lived it. The story
would show that the power of observation exercised by some of the
pioneers was equal to any ascribed to a Sherlock Holmes. It would
be a story of chance incidents woven into chains of circumstances
that were to reveal crime with unerring certainty--a story of
the capture of the criminals, of their life in jail, and of the
destiny by which each of the three women involved was to have
her only child born to her in that frontier jail, the branded
fruit of awful parentage. The mute entries in pounds, shillings,
and pence for every item, set down on these yellow pages without
malice or comment, tell their part of the story as implacably and
dispassionately as fate itself.«6»

These records show that all the Harpes gave their name as
“Roberts,” except Betsey Harpe, the supplementary wife of
Big Harpe, whose name is given as “Elizabeth Walker.” Five
witnesses appeared against them, two of whom--John Farris and his
daughter-in-law, Jane Farris--lived in the house near Rockcastle
River where Thomas Langford, or Lankford, was last seen alive.