LETTER II.
My dear Friend:
You are aware that the late incursion of the enemy was not the first visit we had from our Southern “friends.” In the fall of 1862 we had Stuart’s cavalry raid, and in 1863 the invasion by Lee’s army. Since the first of July of the present year, up to the time of McCausland’s advent, the entire community, especially the farmers, were kept in constant uneasiness. Twice before had they been robbed of horses, wagons, and grain. The wheat harvest had just commenced, and now the enemy was again on the border. During the first three weeks of July, the farmers felt it necessary to remove their most valuable personal property. Merchants packed up and sent away, at least a portion of their goods, eastward. But in each case the rebels did not come, and some degree of apathy in the community was the result. But this did not last long. On the morning of July 29th, unmistakable evidence of the crossing of squads of rebel cavalry over the Potomac, reached us. The citizens of Chambersburg, with very few exceptions, remained. Indeed, early in the evening we were assured that a considerable force of our troops were on their way from Harrisburg, which, however, like many previous assurances, telegrams, and rumors, was not realized. Our scouts soon reported the near approach of the rebels, and by three o’clock on the morning of Saturday, the 30th, the citizens who had gone out with their arms and a section of the battery, having satisfied themselves of the overpowering strength of the enemy, fell back to town. Three shells were now thrown over the town by the rebels from the hills beyond, and as these did not elicit any reply, eight hundred and thirty-one of their number came to town, their skirmishers simultaneously investing every street and alley, gradually moving forward, and then halting until the signal or forward command was again given. We were once more in subjection to rebel rule. The centre of the town was filled with them. They called together several of the citizens who were on the street, requesting them to collect some of the prominent inhabitants, with a view to entering into negotiations. To this end the Court-House bell was rung. The summons to the citizens was very partially obeyed. It was felt that nothing could be done by negotiation, and that they must submit to pillage—the most they anticipated. The few who did come together were approached by Captain Fitzhugh, one of McCausland’s staff, who produced and read a written order, signed by General Jubal Early, directing the command to proceed to Chambersburg, demand a tribute of $100,000 in gold, or $500,000 in Northern currency, and, on the failure to secure this sum, to proceed to burn the town, in retaliation for the burning of six or eight houses specified as having been burned in certain counties in Virginia by General Hunter. The citizens stated that it was utterly impossible to pay the sum named either in gold or currency, and that the demand could not be made in good faith. They further remonstrated against the monstrosity of burning a whole town of six thousand inhabitants, in retaliation for the six or eight houses named. So utterly incredulous were they as to the threat being actually carried out, that they expressed their incredulity without reserve. Captain Fitzhugh replied with a clinching oath, that these orders would be carried out very quickly. He immediately issued his orders to his men, a barrel of kerosene and matches were secured, and in less than twenty minutes the town was fired in a dozen places, and they continued the incendiary work for about one hour. I may here say, that most of the store-goods had been removed, and a few prominent citizens had left, but that no families, women, or children had departed. The burning was executed in a most ruthless and unrelenting manner.[5]
“A squad of men would approach a house, break open the door, and kindle a fire, with no other notice to the inmates, except to get out of it as soon as they could. In many cases, five, ten, fifteen minutes were asked to secure some clothing, which were refused. Many families escaped with only the clothing they had on, and such as they could gather up in their haste. In many cases they were not allowed to take these, but were threatened with instant death if they did not cast them away and flee. Sick and aged people had to be carried to the fields. The corpse of at least one person who had recently died, was hastily interred in the garden, and children, separated from their parents, ran wildly screaming through the streets. Those whose stupor or eagerness to save something, detained them, emerged with difficulty from the streets filled with the sheeted flames of their burning homes. I should say here, that no provocation had been given; not a shot was fired on them in entering the town, and not until the full crisis was reached, did desperation, in a few instances, lead to desperate acts.
“As to the result, I may say that the entire heart or body of the town is burned. Not a house or building of any kind is left on a space of about an average of two squares of streets, extending each way from the centre, with some four or five exceptions, where the buildings were isolated. Only the outskirts are left. The Court-house, Bank, Town Hall, German Reformed Printing Establishment, every store and hotel in the town, and every mill and factory in the space indicated, and two churches, were burnt. Between three and four hundred dwellings were burned, leaving at least twenty-five hundred persons without a home or a hearth. In value, three-fourths of the town was destroyed. The scene of desolation must be seen to be appreciated. Crumbling walls, stacks of chimneys, and smoking embers, are all that remain of once elegant and happy homes.
“As to the scene itself, it beggars description. My own residence being in the outskirts, and feeling it the call of duty to be with my family, I could only look on from without. The day was sultry and calm, not a breath stirring, and each column of smoke rose black, straight, and single; first one, and then another, and another, and another, until the columns blended and commingled; and then one vast and lurid column of smoke and flame rose perpendicularly to the sky, and spread out into a vast crown, like a cloud of sackcloth hanging over the doomed city; whilst the roar and the surging, the crackling and crash of falling timbers and walls, broke upon the still air with a fearful dissonance, and the screams and sounds of agony of burning animals, hogs, and cows, and horses, made the welkin horrid with sounds of woe. It was a scene to be witnessed and heard once in a lifetime.”
To you and other friends, more or less familiar with Chambersburg, it will be interesting to specify a little more particularly the localities which have been laid waste. Beginning on East Market street, the one leading from Gettysburg to Pittsburg, directly through the centre of the town from east to west, the burning commenced simultaneously with the Court-house and Mansion-house (Printing Establishment of the German Reformed Church). Facing the west from the Franklin railroad, the first building to the right is the residence of the Misses Denny, in a somewhat isolated position. This stands in its freshness and beauty, solitary and alone. Passing down two squares to the centre of the town, not one building and only two or three stables or barns remain on either side of this street of private residences, my own with all of my library and manuscripts, among the number. Passing further on westward for more than three squares in length, to the top of “New England Hill,” five or six more or less isolated houses remain. The large Franklin Hotel, the Arcade Buildings, John B. Cook’s houses and tannery, Riley’s Hotel, the late Matthew Gillan’s large dwelling, J. M. Wolfkill’s store and dwelling, G. W. Brewer’s and Mrs. Joseph Chambers’s beautiful residences, are among the many valuable properties on this street, in ruins.
Then from North Main street (the street from Carlisle to Greencastle), beginning with Mr. Benjamin Chambers’s new residence, at the Falling Spring, and Mr. W. G. Reed’s, on the corner, and from here on every house on both sides up the square, on to the centre, across it to Queen street, and up to Washington street, with the exception of Rev. Dr. Fisher’s, Mr. Reineman’s, Lehner’s, and Feltman’s dwellings, every house, shop, stable, &c., is gone. This street, as you know, contained more than three-fourths of all our stores, ware-rooms, and shops of business. Then comes Queen street, at the intersection of Second street, beginning at Brandt’s (now Brown’s) hotel, which was only partially destroyed, sweeping every building (except Mrs. Brandt’s dwelling), on both sides down to the creek, over two squares, including Dr. Culbertson’s, N. Snider’s, Barnard Wolff’s, Mr. Wallace’s, and other valuable dwellings and stores. Between eleven and twelve squares of the best part of the town are, therefore, in ruins, among them houses of many, inhabitants, whom you knew in former years as among your dearest friends, and in comfortable or affluent circumstances, many of them now reduced to penury and want.
After I had written the preceding pages, I found a minute and well-written statement of the subject now in hand in the “Franklin Repository,” of this place, of August 24. I take pleasure in giving the following extracts from the same, instead of my own, as the matter was evidently prepared with judgment and care, under the supervision of its editor, Colonel McClure. He says: