The Burning of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania Part 2

"Persons were fired upon, who attempted to extinguish the flames. A rebel soldier threatened a young man to 'blow his brains out' if he would not let the fire burn. With a revolver in hand, his sister rushed out of an adjoining room, her eyes flashing with a more terrible fire than that of rebel kindling: 'Begone, thou brutal wretch!' said the heroine, as she aimed with precision at the rebel's head, who scampered away in a terrible fright.

"Three sides around a lady's home (Mrs. Denig's) are on fire. The fourth is enclosed with an iron fence. An attempt to cross the fence burns her palm into crisp. She sits down in the middle of her narrow lot. Around her she folds a few rugs, dipped in water, to shelter her person against the heat. An old negro crouches down by her side, and helps to moisten the rugs. Her face, though covered, is blistered by the intense heat. Now and then G.o.d sends a breath of wind to waft the hot air away, and allows her to take breath. Virtually, it was a martyrdom at the stake, those two hours amid the flames. Only after she was rescued did the sight of her ruined home open the fountain of tears. 'Don't cry, missus,' said Peter, the old negro; 'de Lord saved our lives from de fire.' In a few hours two thousand people are scattered through the suburbs of the town, in the fields, on the cemetery, amid the abode of the dead. A squad of rebels seized a flag, which a lady happened to have in her house. With some difficulty, she wrested it from their grasp, folded it around her person, and walked away from her burning house, past the furious soldiery, determined that the flag should become her shroud ere it should fall into the hands of the foe.

"Never was there so little saved at an extensive fire. Sixty-nine pianos were consumed. The most sacred family relics, keepsakes and portraits of deceased friends, old family Bibles, handed down from past generations, and the many objects imparting a priceless value to a Christian home, and which can never be replaced, were all destroyed.

"In the dim moonlight we meditated among the ruins. Chimney-stacks and fragments of walls formed the dreary outline of ruined houses. Not a light was left but the fitful glowing of embers, amid the rubbish that fills the cellars. The silence of the grave reigns where oft we have heard the voice of mirth and music, of prayer and praise. Now and then some one treads heavily along in the middle of the street; for the pavements are blocked up with fallen walls.

"Here we must pause a moment. More than fifty years ago, a happy young man brought his bride into yonder house, now in ruins. One room sufficed, on the second floor. A happier pair could not be found in the halls of affluence. The first day they said: 'We will build an altar here.' Around it they daily knelt. In 1812, the husband tore himself away from his weeping bride, to drive the British foe from our soil. From that day to this, his heart was aglow with the fire of Christian patriotism. Children were born to them, and children's children. By industry, thrift and piety, they acquired a competent fortune, meanwhile giving much to Christ and His kingdom. Their children, too, they gave to Him. The first room continued a sacred 'upper room.' There were portraits, books and family keepsakes of fifty years' gathering. Mementos of sorrow and joy were treasured up therein. Some years ago, the once happy bride, then an aged matron, died.

Her death was like the falling of a great shadow on a sun-lit home. By this time the silvery locks of age adorned the brow of the bridegroom.

Sorrow had made his home doubly sacred; trials riveted his heart to it.

Still he prayed and read his old family Bible in the room where first he built the altar. With what a cheerful, buoyant spirit he bore the burdens of age! Under this room was a store, with a considerable quant.i.ty of powder. The fire is already hissing around the kegs. Still he lingers in his dear chamber, as if preferring death there to safety elsewhere. The violence of friendship forces him away just before the fatal explosion.

Every domestic memorial, which piety and affection have gathered for more than half a century, are in the ashes. Two cases these, out of three hundred. Thousands of domestic and social ties bind the members of communities and of families together. To tear up and sunder all in a few hours, and cut hundreds of hearts loose from the moorings of past generations--who can fathom such a sorrow!

"The Rev. P. S. Davis, who lately entered upon the pastorate of the First Reformed Church, sustained a serious loss. A great portion of the clothing of his family and his ma.n.u.scripts, the literary fruits of an earnest, laborious ministry, were consumed. Dr. Schneck vainly contended with the flames. His cozy, substantial house, with all that it contained--the costly relics borne home from two European tours, his valuable library, all his ma.n.u.scripts, precious domestic keepsakes and furniture--all are a heap of undistinguishable ruins. To begin the world anew at his time of life, presents a cheerless prospect. Dr. Fisher's is one of the four fortunate homes that were saved in the burned district."

LETTER IV.

MY DEAR FRIEND:

In your last letter, you ask me what are the feelings of our people, especially the immediate sufferers, under the severe stroke which has befallen them; whether desponding or otherwise, and whether the spirit of "retaliation for the bitterly severe losses and deprivations does not largely manifest itself among them."

In regard to the first, I am enabled to say, that during the whole course of my life, I have not witnessed such an absence of despondent feeling under great trials and sudden reverses of earthly fortune, never such buoyancy and vigor of soul, and even cheerfulness amid acc.u.mulated woes and sorrows, as I have during these four weeks of our devastated town. And I leave you to imagine the many cases of extreme revulsion from independence and affluence to utter helplessness and want. The widow and fatherless, the aged and infirm, suddenly bereft of their earthly all, in very many instances, even of a change of clothing. Large and valuable libraries and ma.n.u.scripts, the acc.u.mulations of many years; statuary, paintings, precious and never-to-be-replaced mementoes--more valuable than gold and silver--gone forever. And yet amid all these losses and the consequent self-denial and the necessity of adapting themselves to another and almost entirely different state of things, to which the great majority of the people were subjected, you seldom see a sad or sombre countenance on the street or elsewhere. Exceptions there are doubtless, traceable in part to feeble physical const.i.tution, in part also to an inordinate love of and dependence upon transitory objects. But in a general way the sufferers by this wholesale devastation are among the most patient, unmurmuring, cheerful, hopeful people I have ever known. G.o.d really seems to have given special grace in a special time of need. When, on the morning after the burning and pillage (G.o.d's sweet day of rest) I attempted to preach to an humble flock of Germans, whom I serve once a Sabbath, a G.o.dly woman belonging to the little congregation wept nearly during the whole service. On the way to my lodging-place, I overtook her and found her still in tears. Fearing I had been misinformed as to her safety from the recent calamity, I asked for the cause of her grief. "I weep for _others_, my dear pastor," she replied, "and not altogether and entirely for others either, for I fear me that if _my_ little all had been burnt before my eyes, I should not have had grace to bear up as you and the rest are enabled to do." And then with an outburst of irrepressible emotion, she added: "And you can yet exhort us to forgive these our enemies, and not murmur and repine under all this, as not only you yourself but others have said, we should do. It's _this_ that makes me weep."

I freely confess that I have never experienced in my own case, nor in the case of others, even under comparatively light and trifling losses and deprivations, such resignation, such quiet, gentle submission, and such calm endurance, amid the loss of all things, as in this instance. To such an extent have been these manifestations, that persons from neighboring towns, and strangers from a distance who in great numbers have visited the place, almost universally remark upon it. A highly intelligent and pious woman in a remote part of the county, a few days after the burning, called at the house in which a number of the homeless ones were kindly cared for.

The large dining-table was surrounded by those who, a few days before, were in possession of all the comforts and many of the luxuries of life.

Pleasant and cheerful conversation pa.s.sed around the board. The visitor alone seemed sad and out of tune. Tears stood in her eyes as she looked around upon us. "I am amazed beyond measure at you all," she said. "I expected to see nought but tears, hear only lamentations and sighs, and here you are as I have seen and known you in your bright and happy days, calm, serene, and even cheerful!" When one of our number replied, that no tear over the losses sustained had yet been shed by herself, but many tears at the numerous tokens of Christian sympathy and generous aid from far and near to relieve the immediate necessities of the sufferers, she added, "G.o.d be thanked for your words; they flow like precious ointment, deep down into my heart. Oh, what a commentary on the promised grace of G.o.d!" And we all felt, I am sure, that among the many gifts of our heavenly Father, not the least was

"A cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy."

And in regard to the feeling of revenge, so natural to the human heart, I have been gratifyingly disappointed. Among the heaviest sufferers, by far the largest proportion have not only expressed themselves decidedly opposed to the spirit of retaliation, but have used their best efforts to dissuade our soldiers from carrying their threats into execution when an opportunity should offer. They have gone farther, and have drawn up a pet.i.tion in which they earnestly implore the Government in Washington to prevent to the utmost anything of the kind on the part of our army. They believe it to be morally wrong, no matter what may be the provocation from the other side, and have always condemned the destruction of private property by our troops in the South, whenever isolated instances of the kind were reported. They believe, moreover, with our wise and judicious Governor, that retaliation "can do no good to our own people, but a great deal of harm, because we have more towns, villages, flouring and other mills to be destroyed in three counties than our enemies in the Southern States have in fifteen or twenty counties."

Such a wholesale, premeditated, and cruel work of destruction as the burning of Chambersburg, was never perpetrated by Union troops, and when Richmond papers have said so, they have said what the facts in the case did not warrant. It must be admitted, however, that in too many instances, Union troops did destroy private property unnecessarily and wantonly. We hope in G.o.d it will never be done again. We trust our commanding officers in the army will not allow pa.s.sion to set aside moral principle, military rule, and military honor. Within sight of our charred and desolated homes, we implore and beseech them not to bring reproach upon our Government, trample upon all law and order, inaugurate cruel barbarity instead of civilized warfare, and be guilty of such acc.u.mulated horrors as have been enacted here. And yet all this, and much more, will follow with unerring certainty, if the immoral, dishonorable, and unmilitary spirit of retaliation is carried into effect. G.o.d in mercy forbid it!

In this connection, and for the purpose of showing that I am not alone in the views expressed as regards the destruction of private property by Union troops on the one hand, and the exaggerated or untrue statements of the Southern press on the other, I will quote the following paragraphs from the pen of Colonel McClure, in his paper already referred to. I suppose his statements come as near the truth as can well be ascertained.

He says:

"Jacksonville (Florida) was fired at a single point when our troops were retreating from it, because citizens fired on our men from the houses, and unfortunately most of the town--composed of wooden structures--was destroyed. The firing was in accordance with a well-recognized rule, that civilians who shelter themselves in their houses to fire upon troops, shall not only lose their property but suffer death. In Alexandria an accidental fire, resulting from a party of intoxicated soldiers, threatened the destruction of the entire town, owing to its inflammable buildings and unfavorable winds; but it was arrested before one-third of the village--the poorest portion of it--was burned. At the head of the force detailed to put out the fire was Major-General Banks in person, and by his orders and efforts the town was saved. Jackson (Mississippi) was partially destroyed by our guns when it was defended by the rebels, but it was not fired and burned by our troops after possession was gained.

Wrongs, even atrocities, may have been committed by individual soldiers or isolated commands; but no such thing as deliberate and wanton burning and robbing of houses was practised by the Union army. Colonel Montgomery committed gross outrages on private citizens in two raids in South Carolina, which we have never seen reason to justify; but he was deprived of his command, or at least subordinated, and it may be dismissed, as he should have been. Kilpatrick burned mills unwarrantably, as we have ever believed, and other Union commanders may have done the same; but it was some excuse that they were filled with rebel supplies. While McCausland was on his way to Chambersburg to lay it waste, General Rousseau was penetrating the richest part of Georgia, and not a single private house or building of any kind was destroyed, nor were his soldiers permitted to enter a residence on the route. When private property was near to Government stores, which he had to fire, he detailed men to save all but the buildings belonging to or used by the rebel government. General Stoneman enforced the same rules rigidly in all his raids, and so did Grierson. The Union troops have captured and occupied hundreds of rebel towns since the war has commenced, and they have yet for the first time to demand the freebooter's tribute, or destroy a town by order of a commanding officer. Repeatedly have our troops been fired upon and murdered by skulking rebels who protected themselves in their dwellings; but in no case has a town been destroyed therefor."

LETTER V.

MY DEAR FRIEND:

After my last letter was beyond my control, I became acquainted with some additional incidents which may interest you.

A lady, well known to me, the mother of a large family of children, was ordered to leave the house in five minutes, as the house must be burned.

She collected them all around her to obey the cruel summons. Preparations were at once made to fire the building in the rooms above and below, and as the family group walked out of the large and beautiful mansion, the children burst into loud weeping. "I am ashamed of you," said the tenderly loving, yet heroic woman, "to let these men see you cry," and every child straightened up, brushed away the falling tears, and bravely marched out of the doomed home.

An elderly woman, of true Spartan grit, gave one of the house-burners such a sound drubbing with a heavy broom, that the invader retreated, to leave the work of destruction to be performed by another party, after the woman had left to escape the approaching flames of the adjoining buildings.

The wife of a clergyman succeeded in preventing one of the enemy from firing her house, by reminding him that she had fed him during Stuart's raid in 1862, and that she also ministered to him when he was in the hospital in this place in the summer of 1863. The man recognized her, and frankly declared that he could not be so base as to destroy her house, now that he remembered her kind offices. He had been wounded and made a prisoner at the battle of Gettysburg, was brought to the hospital here, and afterwards exchanged.

Mr. Jacob Hoke, one of our most worthy and enterprising merchants, has furnished the following statement of facts and incidents for publication in the Religious Telescope, of Dayton, Ohio. As his residence and store were located in the centre of the town, he had an opportunity of witnessing the scenes of the day to greater advantage than most others. I may as well inclose the princ.i.p.al part of his article, as it explains more fully several general statements before given, whilst, at the same time, it brings out some points not alluded to before:

MR. EDITOR: Not having seen in any published report, a satisfactory account of the late rebel raid on Chambersburg, and being a resident here, and an eye-witness, I will hastily sketch what came under my own observation, and what I have from reliable persons. In Thursday's Philadelphia Inquirer, the correspondent at Frederick stated "that our troops were in such numbers, and so situated, that for the first time in the history of the war, glorious news might be expected from the Shenandoah Valley." Very high military authority, but a few days prior to the raid, a.s.sured us "that every ford of the Potomac was strictly watched; that it was impossible for the enemy to cross; that if they only would cross it would be the best thing that could happen, as they could never get back again." In this way our community was lulled into comparative security, until on Friday noon, July 29th, it was announced that the rebels had crossed in considerable force at Williamsport, and also at Cherry Run. No one could depict the scene of excitement which then occurred. Merchants and others commenced packing, shipping, and otherwise disposing of their valuables.

At eight o'clock in the evening General Hunter's large wagon train commenced pa.s.sing through our town toward Harrisburg, and continued pa.s.sing during the greater part of the night. At least fifteen hundred cavalry and two hundred infantry pa.s.sed through with that train as guards and as stragglers. That these men were not stopped here by General Couch, who did not leave town until three o'clock in the morning, is explained by the a.s.sertion that they were under orders from General Hunter to guard his train. That train was entirely safe after it had pa.s.sed through Chambersburg, and that body of men, judiciously posted, could, with the artillery in town, and the citizens, have held the enemy in check until Averill could arrive, who was then ten miles distant, and threatened in his front by a force of rebels who, it is now evident, were only making a demonstration to hold him until the other and heavier column under McCausland and Gilmore, could effect their object in Chambersburg.

I sat at my window on the corner of the Diamond and saw them enter.

Skirmishers, dismounted, led the advance, followed by cavalry. They came in simultaneously in all the streets and alleys, and called to each other as a signal, when they reached the centre of the Diamond. In five minutes after, a force of about five hundred cavalry filed around the Public Square, and immediately commenced the work of plunder. The first building broken open was Mr. Paxton's shoe and hat store; then the liquor stores adjoining my residence. I met them at my store door and unlocked it, when about twenty entered and commenced a thorough search. Finding it empty, they inquired where I had my goods, to which I replied, I had shipped them to Philadelphia. Returning from the room, I locked the door, and sat down by it, and entered into conversation with a gentlemanly-looking man, who informed me he was the Chaplain to McCausland's command. He gave his name as Johnson, born in Fayette County, Pennsylvania, and said he was a Methodist preacher. During our conversation an officer dismounted at my door, tied his horse, and listened to our conversation, where he remained until the circ.u.mstance occurred to which I shall presently refer. The Chaplain said to me, "Do you reside in this house?" I replied affirmatively. He then said they were rolling several barrels of combustible matter into the Court House, near my residence; that they were going to burn it, and I had better try to save something from our house.

Leaving these two men at the door, I ran up stairs and carried a load of precious articles from the parlor table, consisting of a valuable family Bible, books, photograph alb.u.m, &c., to a neighbor's house, where I presumed they would be safe. They were all burned there, however. Next, I carried some bed-clothing to a different part of the town, and they were saved. Returning to the house, I encountered a rebel officer in one of the rooms. Said he: "Do you belong to this house?" On my replying in the affirmative, he said: "My friend, for G.o.d's sake, tell me what you value most, and I will take it to a place of safety. They are going to burn every house in the town." I told him if that was the case, it was no use to remove anything, as they might as well burn here as elsewhere.

By this time my wife and two other occupants of the house came down stairs each with a carpet-bag packed with clothing. The officer followed us to the door and entreated one of the women to mount his horse and ride him off, as he declared he did not want him any more in the rebel service.

Another man unbuckled his sword and put it in our house, in disgust at the scene before him. It was afterwards found among the ruins. At the door I found the officer previously referred to, weeping bitterly. The flames were bursting from buildings all around us. "See," said he, "this is awful work. O G.o.d! O, my G.o.d, has it come to this, that we have to be made a band of thieves and robbers by a man like McCausland!" I have seen many men weep, but never did I see a strong, robust man hide from his sight, with his handkerchief, the appalling scene, and cry at the top of his voice, "O G.o.d! O mighty G.o.d!--See, see!"

Imagine the feelings of my family, when an hour before this, without intending to select any particular pa.s.sage of G.o.d's Word, I read the 138th Psalm, in which the following words occur: "Though I walk in the midst of trouble, Thou wilt revive me: Thou shalt stretch forth Thy hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and Thy right hand shall save me." We knelt in prayer and surrounded the breakfast-table under the conviction that it was for the last time in that dear home. Then came the hasty s.n.a.t.c.hing of precious relics of dear departed ones, pa.s.sing hurriedly from room to room, leaving clothing, beds, furniture, library, pictures--all to the devouring flames. In our parlor hung the photographs of several of our bishops, with many others. These were either carried away by the rebels or burned. At the door we encountered the incident previously narrated.

Leaving the weeping officer, we pressed through flame and smoke, amidst burning buildings, to the suburbs of the town, where we sat down and watched four hundred buildings in flames, two hundred and seventy-four of which were dwelling-houses, the affrighted occupants running wildly through the streets, carrying clothing and other articles, while screams of anguish from lost children in pursuit of parents, the feeble efforts of the old and infirm to carry with them some endeared article from their blazing homes, the roaring and crackling flames, falling walls and blinding smoke, all united to form a picture of horror, which no pen could describe, no painter portray. For three hours the fire raged. At about 11 o'clock, the rebels left town, as Averill's scouts captured five rebels within one mile of the town. In three hours after their exit, Averill filed through the streets.

Incidents.

In our flight through the streets, the rebel officer alluded to followed us half a square, entreating one of the women to mount and ride off his horse, declaring that he was done with the rebel service. No sooner did he turn away, than another rode up and demanded our carpet-bags; we ran on, and he turned back without them. Brother Winton, while fleeing with his wife and little children, was stopped by a cavalryman and compelled to deliver his shoes and hat. Hundreds of robberies occurred of hats, shoes, watches, money, &c. An old and very estimable lady, who had not walked for three years, was told to run, as her house was on fire. She replied that she had not walked for three years. With horrid curses, the wretch poured powder under her chair, declaring that he would teach her to walk; and while in the act of applying fire to his train, some neighbors ran in and carried her away.

The burning ma.s.s appeared to converge toward the Diamond, forming fearful whirlwinds, which at times moved eastwardly along the line of Market street. At one time an immense whirlwind pa.s.sed over where a large lot of bedding and wearing apparel had been collected. Large feather beds were lifted from the ground. Shirts and lighter articles were conveyed with fearful velocity high in the air, alighting at a great distance from where they lay. It was grand and fearful, adding to the horror of the scene. In many cases soldiers set fire to houses, and to the tears and entreaties of women and children they said their "orders were to burn. We will fire; you can do as you please after we go away." An officer rode up to our parsonage, and thus addressed Mrs. d.i.c.kson: "Madam, save what you can; in fifteen minutes we will return and fire your house." They did not return.

Our church and parsonage were saved. The printing establishment of the German Reformed Church was completely destroyed, with all the valuable presses, books, the bindery, &c. Dr. Fisher estimates the loss to the Church at over forty thousand dollars. Those of our readers who know the town will understand the extent of this destruction from the following:

Beginning at the Presbyterian lecture-room on the north, the fire swept every building on the west side of Main street, except four, up to Washington street, four squares; from King street on the north, every building on the east side of Main street up to Washington, three squares; from the Franklin Railroad to nearly the top of New England Hill, five squares, on both sides of the street; also eight or ten dwellings over the top of New England Hill; from the Market-house down Queen street, both sides, to the edge-tool factory, and several buildings on the street running parallel with the creek, up to Market street, with many buildings on Second street from Market, up near the Methodist Church. The Methodist, German Reformed, and Lutheran churches saved the parts of the town in which they were situated from being involved in the general conflagration.

The a.s.sociate Reformed and Bethel churches, the latter belonging to "The Church of G.o.d," were burned. The a.s.sociate Reformed was used as headquarters for drafted men; hence its destruction. The "Bethel"--so marked on a stone in the front--was supposed by the fiends to be a negro church. In most cases fire was kindled in beds or bureaus by matches, and in b.a.l.l.s of cotton saturated in alcohol or kerosene.

I saw men and officers drinking liquor as it was carried from the hotels, the doors of which they broke open. Many were drunk. Women were insulted; cruel taunts and threats were repeatedly made.

I have thus hastily sketched the foregoing _facts, for such they are_. The reader will remember they are written by one who lost heavily by the fire; is now surrounded by the extended ruins; is aware of the sufferings and heart-breakings of over two thousand men, women, and children, many of whom have been reduced from affluence to poverty, are now dependent for the bread they eat, the clothes they wear, and the houses that shelter them, upon others more favored.

J. HOKE.

CHAMBERSBURG, August 10, 1864.