o
'the rebels'; and as the numbers of these latter increased, it at last
became clear to all men that the cause which was once hopeless, was now
triumphant, and that the hopeless cause was that of slavery and
privilege."

CHAPTER XVIII: THE BEGINNING OF THE NEW LIFE

"Well," said I, "so you got clear out of all your trouble. Were people
satisfied with the new order of things when it came?"

"People?" he said. "Well, surely all must have been glad of peace when
it came; especially when they found, as they must have found, that after
all, they--even the once rich--were not living very badly. As to those
who had been poor, all through the war, which lasted about two years,
their condition had been bettering, in spite of the struggle; and when
peace came at last, in a very short time they made great strides towards
a decent life. The great difficulty was that the once-poor had such a
feeble conception of the real pleasure of life: so to say, they did not
ask enough, did not know how to ask enough, from the new state of things.
It was perhaps rather a good than an evil thing that the necessity for
restoring the wealth destroyed during the war forced them into working at
first almost as hard as they had been used to before the Revolution. For
all historians are agreed that there never was a war in which there was
so much destruction of wares, and instruments for making them as in this
civil war."

"I am rather surprised at that," said I.

"Are you? I don't see why," said Hammond.

"Why," I said, "because the party of order would surely look upon the
wealth as their own property, no share of which, if they could help it,
should go to their slaves, supposing they conquered. And on the other
hand, it was just for the possession of that wealth that 'the rebels'
were fighting, and I should have thought, especially when they saw that
they were winning, that they would have been careful to destroy as little
as possible of what was so soon to be their own."

"It was as I have told you, however," said he. "The party of order, when
they recovered from their first cowardice of surprise--or, if you please,
when they fairly saw that, whatever happened, they would be ruined,
fought with great bitterness, and cared little what they did, so long as
they injured the enemies who had destroyed the sweets of life for them.
As to 'the rebels,' I have told you that the outbreak of actual war made
them careless of trying to