William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 2

[178] of charred rafters and blackened stones. A manufacturing suburb was completely wrecked. All works were stopped, hundreds of homes were roofless, every one was wanting bread. In every house there was a scowling brow, a flashing eye, a bitter tongue. A conquering soldiery filled the streets and held the Capitol as they are now holding the arsenal of New Orleans. Out of Richmond the case was not so bad as in the city, yet the war had scarred the country on every side; made a desert of the Blue Ridge, burnt up Fredericksburg, scorched the banks of York River, desolated the banks of the Rappahannock, and destroyed the fields and orchards round Petersburg. Few parts of Virginia had escaped the ravages of war.

Virginia's suffering was sharp, but her offences had been great and sore. To me Virginia is a pleasant place. I like her frank men, her lovely women. I cannot make up my mind to be harsh, even in judging her faults; yet I am bound to say that the physical wreck caused by the civil war only corresponded to the moral wreck caused by slavery.

Of all the Southern States Virginia was the worst. She had the least excuse for slavery, and she held