The Story of the Outlaw: A Study of the Western DesperadoHough, Emerson
History
The Story of the Outlaw: A Study of the Western Desperado
Hough, Emerson
Crime -- West (U.S.); Criminals -- West (U.S.); Outlaws; West (U.S.) -- History
The plan was to have the uprising occur all over the South on the same
day, Christmas of 1835. The blacks were to band together and march on
the settlements, after killing all the whites on the farms where they
worked. There they were to fall under the leadership of Murrell's
lieutenants, who were to show them how to sack the stores, to kill the
white merchants, and take the white women. The banks of all the Southern
towns were to become the property of Murrell and his associates. In
short, at one stroke, the entire system of government, which had been
established after such hard effort in that fierce wilderness along the
old Southern "traces," was to be wiped out absolutely. The land was
indeed to be left without law. The entire fruits of organized society
were to belong to a band of outlaws. This was probably the best and
boldest instance ever seen of the narrowness of the line dividing
society and savagery.
Murrell was finally brought to book by his supposed confederate, Virgil
A. Stewart, the spy, who went under the name of Hues, whose evidence,
after many difficulties, no doubt resulted in the breaking up of this,
the largest and most dangerous band of outlaws this country ever saw;
although Stewart himself was a vain and ambitious notoriety seeker.
Supposing himself safe, Murrell gave Stewart a detailed story of his
life. This was later used in evidence against him; and although
Stewart's account needs qualification, it is the best and fullest record
obtainable to-day.[C]
[Footnote C: "Life and Adventures of Virgil A. Stewart." Harper and
Brothers, New York. 1836.]
"I was born in Middle Tennessee," Murrell personally stated. "My
parents had not much property, but they were intelligent people; and my
father was an honest man I expect, and tried to raise me honest, but I
think none the better of him for that. My mother was of the pure grit;
she learned me and all her children to steal as soon as we could walk
and would hide for us whenever she could. At ten years old I was not a
bad hand. The first good haul I made was from a pedler who lodged at my
father's house one night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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