Chapter 3

MY DEAR FRIEND:

Allow me in this letter to send you part of an article which appeared in the German Reformed Messenger of September 7, in vindication of the border. It is from the pen of the Rev. T. G. Apple, of Greencastle, in this county. Mr. Apple is a corresponding editor of that paper, and one of the most cool, honest, and sagacious writers within the range of my acquaintance. The article referred to is as follows:

A Vindication of the Border.

"We have lived in the most exposed portion of the Pennsylvania border ever since the commencement of the war, and therefore feel that we have some right to speak in its vindication. It is very easy and somewhat natural for persons living away from the scene of danger to say what they would do under certain circumstances, if their homes were invaded. But for those who are willing to give the subject a little calm thought, the following considerations ought to be sufficient to show the error into which many seem to have fallen:

"1. The border counties are required, whenever a call is made, to make up their quotas for the national army. Their men are sent away to fight for the maintenance of the Government. Can it be expected, then, that these counties, after filling their quotas and paying their taxes, will be able still to turn out and maintain in the field an additional force, sufficient to protect them from invasion? Is not the Government pledged, after it has taken their men and their money, to afford them protection, so far as it has ability? And have not these border counties a right to expect such protection? Is not the State under obligation to use all its power to afford protection to the remotest portion of its territory, so long as it demands the support of all its citizens?

"2. It has generally been conceded in the North, during this war, that what is called _bushwhacking_ is contrary to the rules of war. A private citizen has no right to enjoy that protection and immunity which is accorded him by the armies, and then take his gun and shoot down a soldier. This, we think, is conceded, and it has been urged all along that private citizens who do so deserve summary execution. Suppose now that private citizens should employ violence against rebel soldiers, is it not plain that they would expose themselves to the vengeance of the rebel army, and that the end of it would be a war of savage butchery on both sides, a war of destruction and desolation? Would it not invite to pillage and arson and murder?

"3. But even if this had been attempted in the cases of invasion that have occurred, it would have been of no avail. Take the recent case of the capture and burning of Chambersburg. General Averill was not far from the place, with twenty-five hundred cavalry, when a detachment of Early's corps, under McCausland, entered and burned it. If, then, General Averill felt himself too weak to interfere to prevent the rebels from entering the town, what could the unarmed citizens of such a place, without any one to lead them, have been able to do? It has been said by papers that ought to know better, that two or three hundred rebels captured and burned the town. Is it not to be supposed that General Couch would know what could be done, and when he despaired of being able to hold the town and left it, would it not have been sheer madness for the citizens to have provoked the rebel soldiery to shoot them down in the streets, without being able to effect anything?

"Besides it must be remembered that the citizens of Chambersburg did not know, and had no right to expect, that the rebel force intended burning their town before they entered it. As unarmed private citizens they submitted to what could not be averted, and expected to be treated according to the rules of war, under which private citizens are protected from personal injury by soldiers.

"That farmers should send away their horses, and merchants their goods, at the approach of the enemy, is not only natural, but eminently wise and proper. Allowing them to remain at home, without the ability to defend them from capture, would be giving aid and comfort to the enemy.

"As against New York, the city whose leading papers have been vilely slandering the border counties of Pennsylvania, the case would seem to need no explanation or vindication. It is still remembered how that city found it necessary to have regiments from our armies to come to their rescue in putting down a riot caused by opposition to the draft. It is known, too, how anxiously they clamor for the Government to provide ample defences for their harbor against some rebel iron-clad that might slip in unawares and destroy their city. If New York needs monster guns to protect it from the enemy, is it wrong for Pennsylvania to expect arms and men to be furnished by the Government, to protect her borders from invasion?

"As to the kind of philanthropy that would thus vilify and slander a town lying in ashes, and its inhabitants houseless and homeless, what terms can characterize it? It is not only unchristian but inhuman. These things are past, but they are not forgotten.

"Chambersburg had a right to claim help in its calamity, not as a charity, but as a right. But in these times rights are not always accorded. Some sections have to suffer more than others, who do fully as much in men and money to support the government. This is to be expected. Let us try at least to be just in our judgment."

The following is from the graphic pen of the Rev. B. Bausman, late pastor of the German Reformed congregation here, now of the city of Reading, likewise a corresponding editor of the paper referred to, and author of "Sinai and Zion," an interesting volume of Travels in the Holy Land. Mr. B. hastened to the scene of ruin as soon as the telegraph informed him of the fearful calamity. After a suitable introduction, he furnishes the following incidents and reflections:

"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 God 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 quantity 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 manuscripts, 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 manuscripts, 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."