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burn us up. That's the principle they went on from the beginning."

I had already conversed with other citizens on the subject of the fire, some of whom maintained that it was never the design of the Confederate leaders to burn anything but the railroad bridges and public stores. But this man laughed at the idea.

"That's what they pretend; but I know better. What was the water stopped from the reservoirs for? So that we should have none to put out the fire with!"

"But they say the water was shut off in order to make repairs."

"It's all a lie! I tell ye, stranger, it was the intention to burn Richmond, and it's a miracle that any part of it was saved. As luck would have it, there was no wind to spread the fire; then the Federals came in, let on the water, and went to work with the engines, and put it out."

"Why did n't the citizens do that?"

"I don't know. Everybody was paralyzed. It was a perfect panic. The Yankees coming! the city burning! our army on a retreat! you 've no idea of what it was. Nobody seemed to know what to do. God save us from another such time! It was bad enough Sunday. If the world had been coming to an end, there could n't have been more fright and confusion. I was watchman on this railroad bridge, when there was a bridge here. I was off duty at midnight, and I went home and went to bed. But along towards morning my daughter woke me. 'Father,' says she, 'the city 's afire!' I knew right away what was the matter. The night was all lit up, and I could hear the roar of something besides the river. I run out and started for the bridge, but I'd got quite near enough, when the ammunition in the tobacco-warehouses begun to go off. Crack! - crack! - crack, crack, crack! One piece of shell whirred past my head like a pa'tridge. I didn't want to hear another. I put home and went to getting my truck together, such as I could tote, ready to leave if my house went."

CONFLICTING OPINIONS.

149

Subsequently I conversed with citizens of every grade upon this exciting topic, and found opinions regarding it as various as the political views of their authors. Those aristocrats who went in for the war but kept out of the fight, and who favored the Davis government because it favored them, had no word of censure for the incendiaries.

"The burning of the city was purely accidental," one blandly informed me.

"No considerable portion of it would have been destroyed if it had n't been for private marauding parties," said another. "The city was full of such desperate characters. They set fires for the purpose of plundering. It was they, and nobody else, who shut off the water from the reservoirs."

The laboring class, on the other hand, generally denounced the Confederate leaders as the sole authors of the calamity. It was true that desperadoes aided in the work, but it was after the fugitive government had set them the example.

Here is the opinion of a Confederate officer, Colonel Dwhom I saw daily at the table of the hotel, and with whom I had many interesting conversations.

"It is not fair to lay the whole blame on the Confederate government, although, Heaven knows, it was bad enough to do anything! The plan of burning the city had been discussed beforehand Lee and the more humane of his officers opposed it; Early and others favored it; and Breckinridge took the responsibility of putting it into 'execution."

Amid all these conflicting opinions there was one thing certain the fact of the fire; although, had it not been written out there before our eyes in black characters and lines of desolation, I should have expected to hear some unblushing apologist of the Davis despotism deny even that.

And, whoever may have been personally responsible for the crime, there is also a truth concerning it which I hold to be undeniable. Like the assassination of Lincoln, like the systematic murder of Union prisoners at Andersonville and elsewhere, like these and countless other barbarous acts which have branded the Rebel cause with infamy, - this too was in

spired by the spirit of slavery, and performed in the interest of slavery. That spirit, destructive of liberty and law, and self-destructive at last, was the father of the rebellion and of all the worst crimes of its adherents. As I walked among the ruins, pondering these thoughts, I must own that my heart swelled with pride when I remembered how the fire was extinguished. It was by no mere chance that the panic-stricken inhabitants were found powerless to save their own city. That task was reserved for the Union army, that a great truth might be symbolized. The war, on the part of the North, was waged neither for ambition nor revenge; its design was not destructive, but conservative. Through all our cloudy mistakes and misdeeds shone the spirit of Liberty; and the work she gave us to do was to quench the national flames which anarchy had kindled, and to save a rebellious people from the consequences of their own folly.

Richmond had already one terrible reminiscence of a fire. On the night of the 26th of December, 1811, its theatre was burned, with an appalling catastrophe: upward of seventy spectators, including the Governor of the State, perishing in the flames. The fire of the 3d of April, 1865, will be as long remembered.

The work of rebuilding the burnt district had commenced, and was progressing in places quite vigorously. Here I had the satisfaction of seeing the negroes, who "would not work," actually at their tasks. Here, as everywhere else in Richmond, and indeed in every part of Virginia I visited, colored laborers were largely in the majority. They drove the teams, made the mortar, carried the hods, excavated the old cellars or dug new ones, and, sitting down amid the ruins, broke the mortar from the old bricks and put them up in neat piles ready for use. There were also colored masons and carpenters employed on the new buildings. I could not see but that these people worked just as industriously as the white laborers. And yet, with this scene before our very eyes, I was once more informed by a cynical citizen that the negro, now that he was free, would rob, steal, or starve, before he would work.

CHAT WITH A COLORED LABORER.

151

I conversed with one of the laborers going home to his dinner. He was a stalwart young black, twenty-one years old, married, and the father of two children. He was earning a dollar and a half a day.

"Can you manage to live on that, and support your family?"

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"It's right hard, these times, everything costs so high. I have to pay fifteen dollars a month rent, and only two little rooms. But my wife takes in washing and goes out to work; and so we get along."

"But," said I, "were not your people better off in slavery?"

"Oh no, sir!" he replied, with a bright smile.

"We're

a heap better off now. We have n't got our rights yet, but I expect we 're go'n' to have 'em soon."

"What rights?"

"I don't know, sir. But I reckon government will do something for us. My master has had me ever since I was seven years old, and never give me nothing. I worked for him twelve years, and I think something is due me."

He was waiting to see what the government would do for his people. He rather expected the lands of their Rebel masters would be given them, insisting that they ought to have some reward for all their years of unrequited toil. Of course I endeavored to dissuade him from cherishing any such hope.

"What you ask for may be nothing but justice; but we must not expect justice even in this world. We must be thankful for what we can get. You have your freedom, and you ought to consider yourself lucky."

His features shone with satisfaction as he replied,

"That ought to be enough, if we don't get no mo'e. We 're men now, but when our masters had us we was only change in their pockets."

Unlike what I saw in Chambersburg, the new blocks springing up in the burnt district did not promise to be an improvement on the old ones. Everywhere were visible the results

of want of capital and of the hurry of rebuilding. The thin ness of the walls was alarming; and I was not surprised to learn that some of them had recently been blown down on a windy night. Heaven save our country, thought I, from such hasty and imperfect reconstruction !

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