“Many also are under the impression that this place was disloyal, and consequently they have no sympathy with us in our affliction. Nothing does greater injustice to our suffering community than this. No town of its size in Pennsylvania has fewer “sympathizers” with the rebellion than Chambersburg. Its quotas have always been filled by volunteers, and many of its best citizens have fallen on the field of battle. Such was and such is the spirit of the inhabitants. The affliction into which they have fallen is so great that, were it the result of their own neglect, common charity should teach others to speak of them kindly. But they do not wish to be excused; they only ask to be judged by the facts in the case. The writer has stated such facts as he knows to be true, and subscribes his name to them.
S. J. Niccolls.”
LETTER VI.
My Dear Friend:
A gentleman has just handed me the “Lutheran and Missionary” of Philadelphia, of August 11, in which I find the following excellent article, which, with a few omissions, is here subjoined. It is from the pen of our worthy townsman, Mr. John K. Shryock, who, as well as his brother, Samuel S. Shryock, have for years carried on a large business in the “Mansion House” as booksellers, and were among the many heavy sufferers by the fire. After alluding to the circumstances attending the advent of the insurgents, he says:
“I was in my house with my wife and two little children, and also a lady whose husband was taken to Richmond last summer, her little boy, and sister. The earliest warning we received was from the stifling smoke that poured through the house, and from some one knocking at the door and crying: ‘If there is any one in this house, for God’s sake leave, for it is all on fire.’ I gathered my family together, and left with nothing but the clothes I had upon my person, two of the ladies not having time even to get their bonnets. Having gotten them out of the house, I ascended the stairs to see if any had been left behind in the haste. After having examined all the rooms, I met two of the infuriated wretches rushing up the stairs as I hurried down. At this time the house was filled with blinding smoke. I locked the front door, hoping that the unwelcome visitors would not be able to find their way out.
“I immediately hurried after my charge, and found them struggling their way through the streets, thronged with homeless women and children, the pavements blocked up by the rebels, who had ridden their horses in every imaginable way to hinder the course of the fugitives. The streets were filled with smoke and flame, and almost impassable. After we had reached a temporary shelter, my wife returned to the scene of destruction, as a bird to its nest, and on her way was stopped before a burning house, in which a corpse was lying, and a little child at the point of death. The dead woman was gotten out with difficulty, and buried in the garden without shroud or coffin, and the child was barely rescued and placed in her arms, when an officer in front of the house called out to his men: ‘Boys, remember Hunter!’ She ran up to him, uncovered the child, and said: ‘Here is a dying baby we have saved from the house you have fired. Is your revenge sweet?’ Shocked, the fellow burst into tears, and answered, ‘No, madam.’ He followed her some distance, and leaning down, asked her earnestly, ‘Madam, can’t I save something for you?’ Her answer was, ‘No, it is too late: I have lost all!’ Warned to leave the house in which we had taken refuge, a party of us left, but soon became separated, and I lost my little boy, aged about ten, and did not find him till the next day, at Shippensburg, whither he had walked, a distance of eleven miles. The rest of us kept upon the edge of the burning town, and for three or four hours watched the progress of the flames.
“One of the saddest sights I witnessed was the burning of the old Academy. I watched it burn, timber by timber. Fifteen years of associations as scholar and teacher were annihilated in the course of one short hour. My attention was then drawn to the flag-staff in the centre of the public square, and we all, of our party as well as others, expressed an ardent hope that it might stand, from which the American flag might wave, even over the ruins of the town. At noon we returned to the uninjured house of a friend, and spent the night in gazing upon the ruins of our once happy and beautiful town.
“The conduct of the rebel soldiery was barbarous in the extreme, though there were many honorable exceptions. Bundles were tired upon women’s backs; ladies were forced to carry back into the houses articles of clothing they had saved from the flames; drunken wretches danced upon the furniture and articles of value and ornament; women’s persons were searched in the most indecent manner; oaths and foul language abounded; aged women were locked in their rooms while their houses were on fire; trunks were rifled after being dragged by the owners from the ruins; promises of protection were made to be instantly broken. Everything was done to add to the terror and confusion of the panic-stricken women and children. Soon the hunger of the little ones added new horror to the scene. Families were separated, and distracted fathers and mothers could be seen everywhere, seeking amid the confusion for those that were missing. And yet no selfishness was apparent; every one was willing to aid and sympathize with his neighbor. No one complained, no one lost hope. A rebel officer stopped me, saying: ‘Sir, cannot a little money be raised to satisfy that brute, McCausland; a very little money would save this end of the town.’ My answer was: ‘If ten cents would do it, it would not be forthcoming.’ One rebel came running towards me, wringing his hands, saying, ‘Horrible, horrible! I did not think it could be so bad as this!’ Another told me that they had received orders, before they entered the town, to burn every house in it; and yet another informed me that their object was to effect an entrance during the night, and then burn it. In some cases the women attempted to extinguish the fire, and were prevented by threats and personal violence. Some were thrust from their houses, others were struck, and in some instances pistols were drawn upon them. One lady had a bucket of water, which she had brought to extinguish the fire, thrown in her face. In almost every case the sick and the infirm were hindered from leaving their homes. There appeared to be a desire to have some burned, if possible, by accident! One rebel, who helped a lady to save some of her clothing, was seen led out of the town handcuffed. An officer who suffered himself to be persuaded to save some property, said, as he left the house he refused to fire, ‘Madam, you have saved your house, but have cost me my commission, and perhaps my life.’ A negro saved his life by dressing himself in woman’s clothes, and carrying on his head a feather bed, thereby hiding his face and hands. Little children cried to ‘go home’—the home that was destroyed; old men wept over the town in which they had lived for three-quarters of a century; citizens looked on with dismay upon the destruction of their life-long labor and industry. Many fled to the cemetery for refuge, and there, in the midst of death, was one little life added to the wretched throng. The words of our Saviour, with regard to the destruction of Jerusalem, were forced upon us: ‘Let him which is on the house-top not come down to take anything out of his house; neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes. And woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days!’