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 principal 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, assured 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 passing through our town toward Harrisburg, and continued passing during the greater part of the night. At least fifteen hundred cavalry and two hundred infantry passed 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 assertion that they were under orders from General Hunter to guard his train. That train was entirely safe after it had passed 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 circumstance 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 album, &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 God’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 God! O, my God, 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 God! O mighty God!—See, see!”
Imagine the feelings of my family, when an hour before this, without intending to select any particular passage of God’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 snatching of precious relics of dear departed ones, passing 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.