The Burning of Bedford, 1864
By
Henrietta “Netta” Lee
As the Civil War progressed,
it became apparent that the farms in the lower Shenandoah Valley were an
inherent part of the Southern war machine, providing food and supplies to the
Confederate army and to Mosby's Raiders, both active in the area. Union General
David Hunter, against orders prohibiting such depredations, ordered the burning
of three homes in Jefferson County in reprisal for the burning by rebels of a
home in Maryland of a member of Lincoln's cabinet.
The
New York First Cavalry, led by a Captain William Martindale, first approached
"Fountain Rock," the venerable home of Alexander Boteler, this area's
Congressman when hostilities broke out. “Fountain Rock,” which stood precisely
where the pavilion at Morgan's Grove now stands. A detachment had already burned to the ground "Hunter
Hill," the home in Charles Town of Gen. Hunter's cousin, lawyer Andrew
Hunter, who prosecuted the tried John Brown.
Because
Alexander Boteler was, by 1864, a member of the Confederate Congress and had
designed the Confederate Seal, he and his home were chosen to also serve as an
object lesson. With neither Mr. nor
Mrs. Boteler home at the time, the soldiers methodically stacked furniture in
the living room, covered it with hay carried in from outside; kerosene was
spilled all about, and all was lit.
As the flames wilted the
flowers over the balcony railings, either Helen or Lizzie Boteler rushed
tearfully into the burning house, unlocked her beloved piano and played part of
the piece Eliot's "Thy Will Be Done:”
‘My
God, my Father, while I stray
Far
from home in life's rough way,
Oh
teach me from my heart to say,
Thy
will be done.’
She
quietly locked the piano and fled, later sitting on a nearby knoll as everyone
could hear the piano wire popping in the intense heat. It was about this time,
the cavalrymen turned toward nearby Bedford, the home of lawyer Edmund Jennings
Lee II, a first cousin of Robert E. Lee.
He was in exile. His son, Edwin Grey Lee, was also away, working in the
Confederate Secret Service in Canada. Only Mrs. Henrietta Bedinger Lee; teen
daughter Netta, young son Harry; Margaret, a servant; Peggy, the family's most
esteemed servant, and their neighbors witnessed the conflagration.
Seeing
the destruction of her childhood home - which had parts of the mast of the SS
Constitution in its portico columns - and of virtually all private effects
brought out the despair - and the lioness - in Mrs. Lee. She concentrated her fury into a brief
letter to this Gen. Hunter, a letter that has become recognized as a hallmark
of sublime and eloquent invective.
Unfortunately for Gen. Hunter, the content of the letter was also made
known to Gen. Jubal Early, then in nearby Martinsburg.
Concluding these home burnings were from a direct order, Gen. Early turned his men north into Pennsylvania to Chambersburg "to avenge the atrocities." When a demand to be paid $100,000 in gold was brushed aside, he gave Chambersburg residents an hour or two to evacuate, after which some 570 structures were destroyed. Cognizant Hancock and Hagerstown readily complied with a similar demand from Early, as did two more towns he posed this "offer" to: Middletown and Frederick.
One
home - three homes - then 570. The mad
arithmetic of war. Today, the site of
Bedford is on the high ground on the west side of Flowing Springs Road, and
very close to the north boundary of the auto salvage shop on that land. The
bar/nightclub on that property appears to have been built on the foundation of
a large, north-south aligned outbuilding, but not the foundation of the main
house, which ran east-to-west.
The
following is the eyewitness account of the burning of Bedford by the Lee's
daughter, Netta, (who, incidentally, would be the first woman to marry inside
the newly completed Trinity Episcopal Church).
Following
is her mother's letter to Gen. Hunter, which prompted Gen. Early to burn
Chambersburg.
Last
is a powerful diary entry of Mrs. Lee in old age the day Bedford was sold out
of her family. This diary
entry
has the same feeling of William Shakespeare’s “Tomorrow, and tomorrow and
tomorrow” soliloquy.
The
Goldsborough Family and the editor donated to the Historic Shepherdstown
Commission the letter written in Mrs. Lee’s hand, a photo of Mrs. Lee in later
life, and a framed painting of Bedford. This painting was by Serena K. “Miss
Violet” Dandridge, daughter of Netta Lee's cousin, Danske Dandridge, using
Netta Lee's verbal descriptions. All three have been hung in the hallway of the
museum. - ED
From
"The Diary of Netta Lee," published by The Lee Society, Alexandria,
VA, 1925), PP., 29-34, with permission from the Goldsborough family.
"It
was the afternoon of July the nineteenth, 1864. Mother had been ill in bed for
some days; but on that date she was able to dine with us and later she came
upstairs to my room, where I made her take a nap. Harry, then fourteen years of
age, was the only other member of the family at home. He had gone to the dairy
and with the assistance of two young Negroes had made a freezer of ice cream.
At the dinner table, Mother had given permission to do this, provided he did
not use up all of the one and only, nutmeg to be found on our side of the
Potomac, nor more than one cupful of the last of our sugar. She laughed as she
said: ‘How can it be fit to eat?’
"’Well,
Harry,’ said I, ‘you bring me a taste if it's clean and you wash your hands.’
So just as Mother awoke from her nap, Harry came running up bearing a cup and a
saucer, each containing a helping of very presentable ice cream.
"’Mother,
I've brought each of you a taste of my cream. We thought it so good that maybe
you would eat a little, just because I made it, you know.’
“Mother
barely tasted hers, simply to please the boy, but I ate all of mine. Then Harry
left us and Mother finished her nap. I had been writing a letter on my little
mahogany lap-desk, purchased from the sutler's store with money given me at
Christmas by Mother, and purchased after paying a ‘duty’ of ten per cent. The
cup which had held my ice cream was on the floor. Presently a little mouse
crept up to it, dipped his paw into the bottom of it and licked it, much as a
child would have done . . .
“Peggy
(an African-American servant - ED) came to me: ‘Miss Henretta and Miss Netta!
Look over to Colonel Boteler's! The house is all on fire and them Yankees is a
comin’ right here down the pike!’
“Dear
Mother, ill as she was, sprang from the bed and began to dress, saying: ‘I must
go to Fountain Rock, Colonel Boteler is South, Mrs. Boteler is in Baltimore;
Helen and Lizzie are there alone with Lizzie's little children.’
“We
started down the yard, pursued by Harry, calling to us: ‘Oh Mother and Sister
Netta! Don't go over there. Those Yankees are coming here. See how they are
pointing and looking this way as they come through the toll-gate!’
"’And
Mother,’ I added, ‘there comes Virginia Bedinger, as fast as she can run. She
would not be leaving them now unless she had bad news to tell us before our
enemies arrive. She would stay and help them.’
“Mother
paused and then turned back. I feared she would fall, she was so weak.
"’Run
children, run servants, and save what you can, but first of all, do not forget
your father's command: ‘Should the house ever take fire, save my papers first.'
“Before
Father left home, he secured extra-heavy canvas bags with secured padlocks;
children and servants knew where they were to be found.
“All
did our Mother's bidding; the Negroes and Harry hid them in the weeds and
bushes around the garden, far from the house.
"’Run,
run, all of you, save all that you can before the enemy arrive,’ cried Mother,
as Virginia arrived with the tidings that she had read General Hunter's order
to ‘Burn both houses and every outbuilding, allowing nothing but wearing apparel.’
“My
little maid, Margaret, followed at my heels as I rushed to my own sweet room
for the last time. I put my gold watch and chain, which was Father's wedding
present to Mother, with a few other trinkets in my little writing desk, I
turned to Margaret, saying: ‘Here, you keep these, for the Yankees will not
take them from you, while they may from me.’
“Proud
of her trust, the faithful little girl did keep them safely.
“Captain
Martindale and troopers from the First New York Cavalry arrived and dismounted.
Ill as she was, Mother met the Captain bravely at her drawing room door.
"’Madam,’
he said, ‘I have orders from General Hunter to burn this house and its contents
and also every outbuilding.’
"’But
you surely will not carry out such a wicked order?’
"’Yes,
I will,’" he replied emphatically.
"’You
shall not burn the house which my Father, a soldier of the Revolution built.
What did he, or I ever do to you?’
"’Woman,
you must be a fool,’ he replied, ‘Here are my orders; read them; I shall carry
them out to the letter.’
“With
that he thrust a paper signed by Gen. Hunter, before Mother's eyes, signaling
to his men to begin the work of destruction.
“Harry
handed Mother a glass of wine which I had sent one of the servants to bring
her. She then turned to the servants and to the friends who had hastened to
help us, showing them what we most valued. But Martindale ordered them to put
down the things they tried to remove, threatening to shoot them. Our handsome
Knabe piano, a gift from Father the previous Christmas, had been pulled onto
the portico of the drawing room, when the gallant Captain made his men push
back this bit of contraband, although I pled for it with tears in my eyes.
“In
a frenzy, I turned with dear little Harry and my cousin, the wife of Colonel
William Morgan, who were standing near Martindale, when he ordered the boys to
desist, and said: ‘We defy you to shoot us, we will not take orders from you.’
The boys were trying to pull a feather bed through a downstairs window. We made
a dash for the bed and pulled it out. Alas! A huge cloud of smoke and flames
burst from it, compelling us to let go. With a Satanic grin of triumph, the
Captain turned to Mrs. Morgan and myself:
‘Now
you may go in and get out what you please,’ he said.
“Some
of the soldiers were Dutch or Germans, and did not appear to understand a word
of English, for as soon as I was in my room and pointed to my old black trunk,
in which I kept my party dress, old laces, and jewelry, and asked them to lift
it down stairs, they did not seem to understand a word I said, but when I
pointed through a window to the back-porch roof, they picked it up and allowed
it to fall to the flower-beds below, where the lock and hinges were broken and
most of the jewelry and trinkets were stolen.
“There
was one little, pale-faced blond fellow whom I shall never forget. He followed me everywhere trying to help me
when he could elude the vigilance of the Captain. One incident made me smile in
the midst of my grief and terror. I was standing on the eastern end of the long
back-porch on the servant's side of the house, watching a train of straw, just
lighted as the flames crept towards me. I stepped back to the pavement, when
this young man, with eyes full of tears, came up to me and carefully wrapped my
heavy fur cape around my shoulders - on a hot July day, as I was standing
between two blazing fires - as if 'twas mid-winter and I was cold. Possibly I
was shivering from nervousness. Both of
us smiled, and I took the cape to add to the armful of clothing I had rescued.
“It
may be well to record the technique of house-burning.
“I
was on the back porch, and looking in the dining-room window, saw the sofa and
chairs all piled up where the extension table stood, with a large mantle mirror
and pictures upon them. Straw had been thrown under and around the table and
coal oil poured over all. The match must have been struck before I appeared,
for no one was in the room, yet the blaze was burning rapidly. At last, when
flames enveloped every part of the house and the seven outbuildings were
ablaze, Mother and I, with a group of kind friends, were standing near the
eastern end of the portico, watching the four old columns which supported it,
as one by one, they tottered and fell to the ground. Mother was so weak that I
was trying to make her lean on my arm, when we saw Martindale approaching with
a swaggering air, as if he was proud of his accomplishments.
“Bracing
herself, and looking every inch the daughter of a Revolutionary soldier, our
brave Mother faced the man, whose eyes quailed before hers. He began a patronizing tone: ‘Madam, I have
come to tell you that I have been obliged to carry out my orders in burning
your home; I also wish to offer you my pity.’
"’Stop sir, I command
you!’ cried my Mother, stamping her foot. ‘You pity me? I scorn your pity! But
listen to me! Do you see the one remaining column about to fall? That, sir, is
the last of the original masts of the Federal frigate, Constitution, Old
Ironsides. My Father, a brave soldier of the Revolution, built this home after
that war. He went in as a boy, young and strong, he came out after serving
seven years, weak and broken. He died at the early age of forty-five. Your
grateful country has honored his memory by turning me, his daughter, and these
my children, upon the world, homeless and destitute. Now you may go, sir. You
have done all the harm, of which you are capable; I defy you to do more, and I
utterly scorn your pity. Be gone out of my sight!’ “Mother was pallid, save for two red spots upon either cheek. Her
eyes were ablaze with righteous indignation.
“The
brave Captain quailed under their flash. As he turned and slunk off like a
whipped dog. they all left hurriedly appearing to fear that the rebels might
see the blaze against the twilight sky and pounce down upon them.”
A
copy of the following letter from Mrs. Lee to Union Gen. David Hunter was said
to have gotten into the hands of Confederate Gen. Jubal Early whose divisions
were at nearby Martinsburg at the time. Gen. Hunter’s unauthorized order to
burn Bedford and other homes prompted him to burn Chambersburg and ransom other
towns, as the following letters later indicate. Gen. Early wrote September 4, 1884 to "J. Hoke:"
"(After Gen. Hunter) had burned the valuable residences of several citizens
in Jefferson
County,
I determined to demand compensation, therefore, from some town in Pennsylvania,
and in the event of failure to comply with my demand to retaliate by burning
said town. The town of Chambersburg was selected because it was the only one of
any consequence accessible to my troops, and for no other reason.” – ED.
Mrs.
Lee’s letter to Gen. Hunter, as it appeared in, Millard Bushong’s, "The
History of Jefferson County", pp. 233-234.
“Shepherdstown,
VA
“July
20, 1864
“General
Hunter -- Yesterday your underling, Captain Martindale, of the first New York
Cavalry, executed your infamous order and burned my house. You have the
satisfaction 'ere this of receiving from him the information that your orders
were fulfilled to the letter; the dwelling and other outbuildings, seven in
number, with their contents, being burned, I, therefore, a helpless woman whom
you have cruelly wronged, address you, a major-general of the United States
Army, and demand why this was done? What was my offense?
“My
husband was absent - an exile. He had never been a politician or in any way
engaged in the struggle now going on, his age preventing. This fact your chief
of staff, David Strother, could have told you. The house was built by my
father, a Revolutionary soldier, who served the whole seven years for your
independence. There was I born; there the sacred dead repose. It was my home
and there has your niece (Miss Griffith) who has tarried among us all in this
horrid war up to the present moment, met with all kindness and hospitality at
my hands. Was it for this you turned me, my young daughter, and little son out
upon the world without a shelter?
“Or
was it because my husband is the grandson of the Revolutionary patriot and
‘rebel,’ Richard Henry Lee, and the near kinsman of the noblest of Christian
warriors, the greatest of generals, Robert E. Lee? Heaven's blessings be upon
his head forever! You and your government have failed to conquer, subdue or
match him; and disappointed rage and malice find vent on the helpless and
inoffensive. Hyena-like you have torn my heart to pieces, for all hallowed
memories clustered around that homestead; and demon-like you have done it
without even the pretext of revenge, for I never saw or harmed you. Your office
is not to lead like a brave man and soldier your men to fight in the ranks of
war, but your work has been to separate yourself from all danger, and with your
incendiary band steal unawares upon helpless women and children to insult and
destroy. Two fair homes did you yesterday ruthlessly lay in ashes, giving not a
moment's warning to the startled inmates of your wicked purpose; turning
mothers and children out of doors, your very name is execrated by your own men
for the cruel work you give them to do.
“In
the case of Mr. A. R. Boteler, both father and mother were far away. Any heart
but that of Captain Martindale (and yours) would have been touched by that
little circle, comprising a widowed daughter just risen from her bed of
illness, her three fatherless babies - the eldest five years old - and her
heroic sister. I repeat, any man would have been touched at the sight but
Captain Martindale! One might as well hope to find mercy and feeling in the
heart of a wolf bent on his prey of young lambs, as to search for such qualities
in his bosom. You have chosen well your agent for such deeds, and doubtless
will promote him.
“A
colonel of the Federal Army has stated that you deprived forty of your officers
of their commands because they refused to carry out your malignant mischief.
All honor to their names for this, at least! They are men, and have human
hearts and blush for such a commander! I ask who that does not wish infamy and
disgrace attached to him forever would serve under you? Your name will stand on
history's pages as the Hunter of weak women, and innocent children; the Hunter
to destroy defenseless villages and beautiful homes - to torture afresh the
agonized hearts of widows; the Hunter of Africa's poor sons and daughters, to
lure them on to ruin and death of soul and body; the Hunter with the relentless
heart of a wild beast, the face of a fiend, and the form of a man. Oh, Earth! Behold the monster! Can I say
‘God forgive you’? No prayer can be offered for you! Were it possible for human
lips to raise your name heavenward, angels would thrust the foul thing back
again, and demons claim their own. The curse of thousands, the scorn of the
manly and upright, and the hatred of the true and honorable, will follow you
and yours through all time, and brand your name infamy! Infamy!
“Again,
I demand why have you burned my house? Answer as you must answer before the
Searcher of all hearts; why have you added this cruel, wicked deed to your many
crimes?
Henrietta
B. Lee”
Mrs. Lee never did get over the loss of Bedford as shown in this diary entry when Bedford land had to be sold under duress to Mr. David Billmyer, another Shepherdstown businessmen and sometime rival of her late husband:
“This
day November 6th, 1880 - The sale is not confirmed, so it is still mine. This day, Bedford, the beloved home and
birthplace of my dear Father and sisters as well as myself and two brothers,
was sold. It has passed away forever from me. I have shed so many
tears in the last ten years that I thought the font was dry. But when my boys came
from town and told me Bedford was sold, the sobs came up and my tears gave way.
How I prayed that this portion of the wreck of my poor husband’s property might
not be kept from me. God alone knoweth. It has not pleased my Father to grant
this prayer and I bow submissively and humbly to His will. No tie of earthly
goods remain to keep me united to the world. My grasp upon perishable things is
loosened and my wearisome journey to the end will be easier, ‘Nearer to thee my
God, nearer to thee even though it be a cross that raiseth me.’ Thou hast given
me the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet thine hand upholdeth
me still.
“Nov.
19th - November winds howl idly by. This evening alone and sadly I turned my
footsteps to Bedford. Now Bedford, no more. The house and name dead. As I
walked pensively over its once beautiful, now ruined grounds, I wondered what
had been the especial sin of my forefathers that it was swept away from the
earth with the wave of destruction scarce one stone upon another to tell it had
once been a beautiful stately habitation of joy and happiness. My grandfather’s
home and my father’s birthplace as well
as mine. And my heart asks: ‘who did sin, this man or his father?’ that their
home and memory are swept away from the children of men. Alas who can tell.
Perhaps they reject us, but ruin and destruction follow the gift. I sat me down
upon a part of the old foundation and wept aloud. Not even a bird heard the
sobs as they welled up from my desolate heart. I called each dear familiar name
of my childhood but none answered. There was neither voice nor sound.
“I
stood in the ruin which was once my angel mother’s room and called the blessed
name of mother. But the cold gray sky only heard. I put my arms and faded grief
worn cheek upon every tree. My arms encircling the old decaying trunks and, my
cheek pressed to the bark as furrowed and almost old as the tree, yet my dear
father planted them and in childhood. I rested under their shade or with active
and nimble limbs, climbed and sat happily among the branches. Alas childhood!
What a brief period. Visitations of dark grief and sorrow have been visited
upon me. Such a checkered life that I almost am inclined to doubt I was ever a
child. That period is so far away and the flowing shadows of the present so
entirely envelope my existence. Oh why
is it that we so cling to life from the cradle to the grave, tears are meted
out to us? Has it been so with everyone born on earth? Yes! For all have sinned
and sin brings sorrow and death. A beloved house is like a mother’s bosom, go
from it afar, yet we can never forget or cease to love and cling to it. Often I
wish I was miles and miles away from my scattered and ruined home, but here it
is constantly before my eyes, saddened by what it is and what it was.”