do this thing? Thy servant kept no arms, neither would he do so. Let them who have the evil spirit Bak Bohn do thus unto my lords the Phiretahs. Behold, thy servant is no man, but a Phlunkee. 23. (Now the Phlunkees were men who had never had the spirit Bak Bohn, or who had had it cast out of them, because when they would have prostrated themselves and humbled themselves in the dust and compromised to their profit, the spirit rent them sore. So they had each of them his Bak Bohn cast out of him.) 24. And the Phiretahs went on their way without hindrance. For James, by facing both ways, faced neither; and both of the men of the South and the men of the North he was not regarded. And the nation spued him out of its mouth. 25. And Abraham ruled the land. But the Phiretahs withstood him, and made war upon him, and drove his captains out of the strongholds which were in their provinces, and humbled the banner of Unculpsalm. 26. Then all the men of the North, even the Dimmichrats, of whom were the Pahdees, were exceeding wroth; and they rose up against the Phiretahs of the South, and marched against them to drive them out of the strong places which they had seized, and to plant thereon again the banner of Unculpsalm. 27. For they all had exceeding reverence for the Great Covenant, and they were filled with pride of their nation, its might, and its wealth, and its vastness, and chiefly that its people were more free than any other people, and that its tillers of the soil and its wayfaring men could read and understand, and that there each man sat under his own vine and under his own fig tree with none to molest him or make him afraid. And they worshipped the banner of Unculpsalm, and its folds were unto them as the wings of a protecting angel. 28. Moreover, the Dimmichrats said, We have striven for our brethren of the South against the men of Belial, who teach that it is wrong to oppress the Niggah by the power of Unculpsalm, and now they can no longer use us they cast us off. Behold, we will fight against them, lest, also, they make good their threats, and sever their provinces from our provinces, and there be no more everlasting Niggah, and our occupation be departed forever. 29. And thus it came to pass that there was war in the land of Unculpsalm. [Richard Grant White], The New Gospel of Peace according to St. Benjamin (New York, [1863]), Book I, 17-21. PART V CONDITIONS OF WAR CHAPTER XIII-THE NORTHERN PEOPLE 75. Good Advice to J. Davis (1861) BY CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE (ARTEMUS WARD) Under the nom de plume of "Artemus Ward," Mr. Browne, originally a journalist in Cleveland, became, during his brief career, the most famous and original of American humorists; and his satires on the causes and objects of the war were widely read. Lincoln much enjoyed his writings. - Bibliography of the conditions of the war : Channing and Hart, Guide, § 213. IN my travels threw the Sonny South I heared a heap of talk about Seceshon and bustin up the Union, but I didn't think it mounted to nothin. The politicians in all the villages was swearin that Old Abe (sometimes called the Prahayrie flower) shouldn't never be noggerated. They also made fools of theirselves in varis ways, but as they was used to that I didn't let it worry me much, and the Stars and Stripes continued for to wave over my little tent. Moor over, I was a Son of Malty and a member of several other Temperance Societies, and my wife she was a Dawter of Malty, an I sposed these fax would secoor me the infloonz and pertectiun of all the fust families. Alas! I was dispinted. State arter State seseshed and it growed hotter and hotter for the undersined Things came to a climbmacks in a small town in Alabamy, where I was premtorally ordered to haul down the Stars & Stripes. A deppytashun of red-faced men cum up to the door of my tent ware I was standin takin money (the arternoon exhibishun had commenst, an' my Italyun organist was jerkin his sole-stirrin chimes.) "We air cum, Sir," said a millingtary man in a cockt hat, “upon a hi and holy mishun. The Southern Eagle is screamin threwout this sunny land-proudly and defiantly screamin, Sir !" "What's the matter with him," sez I, "don't his vittles sit well on his stummick?" "That Eagle, Sir, will continner to scream all over this Brite and tremenjus land!" “Wall, let him scream. If your Eagle can amuse hisself by screamin, let him went!" men annoyed me for I was Bizzy makin change. The "You're right, Capting. It's every man's dooty to visit my show," sed I. "And that's the reason you are here!" sez I, larfin one of my silvery larfs. I thawt if he wanted to goak I'd giv him sum of my sparklin eppygrams. Sir, you're inserlent. The plain question is, will you haul down the Star-Spangled Banner, and hist the Southern flag!" "Your wax works and beests is then confisticated, & you air arrested as a Spy!" I was carrid to Montgomry in iuns and placed in durans vial. The jail was a ornery edifiss, but the table was librally surplied with Bakin an Cabbidge. This was a good variety, for when I didn't hanker after Bakin I could help myself to the cabbige. I had nobody to talk to nor nothing to talk about, howsever, and I was very lonely, specially on the first day; so when the jailer parst my lonely sell I put the few stray hairs on the back part of my hed (I'm bald now, but thare was a time when I wore sweet auburn ringlets) into as dish-hevild a state as possible, & rollin my eyes like a manyyuck, I cride: "Stay, jaler, stay! I am not mad but soon shall be if you don't bring me suthing to Talk!" He brung me sum noospapers, for which I thanked him kindly. At larst I got a interview with Jefferson Davis, the President of the Southern Conthieveracy. He was quite perlite, and axed me to sit down and state my case. I did it, when he larfed and said his gallunt men had been a little 2 enthoosiastic in confisticatin my show. "Yes," sez I," they confisticated me too muchly. I had sum hosses confisticated in the same way onct, but the confisticaters air now poundin stun in the States Prison in Injinnapylus." "Wall, wall, Mister Ward, you air at liberty to depart; you air frendly to the South, I know. Even now we hav many frens in the North, who sympathise with us, and won't mingle with this fight." "J. Davis, there's your grate mistaik. frends, and thought certin parties amung us was fussin about you and Many of us was your sincere meddlin with your consarns intirely too much. But J. Davis, the minit you fire a gun at the piece of dry-goods called the Star-Spangled Banner, the North gits up and rises en massy, in defence of that banner. Not agin you as individooals, not agin the South even the flag. We should indeed be weak in the knees, unsound in the heart, - but to save milk-white in the liver, and soft in the hed, if we stood quietly by and saw this glorus Govyment smashed to pieces, either by a furrin or a intestine foe The gentle-harted mother hates to take her naughty child across her knee, but she knows it is her dooty to do it. So we shall hate to whip the naughty South, but we must do it if you don't make back tracks at onct, and we shall wallup you out of your boots! J. Davis, it is my decided opinion that the Sonny South is making a egrejus mutton-hed of herself!" “Go on, sir, you're safe enuff. You're too small powder for me!' sed the President of the Southern Conthieveracy. "Wait till I go home and start out the Baldinsvill Mounted Hoss Cavalry! I'm Capting of that Corpse, I am, and J. Davis, beware! Jefferson D., I now leave you bye, my bold buccaneer! Pirut of the deep blue sea, adoo! adoo!" Farewell my gay Saler Boy! Good [Charles Farrar Browne], Artemus Ward his Book (New York, 1865), 162-169 passim. 76. "Our Country's Call" (1861) BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT Bryant was the oldest of the greater American poets at the outbreak of the Civil War. He was also a journalist, and as editor of the New York Evening Post had for many years been prominent as a fearless advocate of numerous good causes, including that of anti-slavery. ary Workers, 322-324. — Bibliography in No. 75 above. - For Bryant, see Henry Matson, References for Liter AY down the axe; fling by the spade; LA Leave in its track the toiling plough; The rifle and the bayonet blade For arms like yours were fitter now; And ye, who breast the mountain storm A bulwark that no foe can break. And ye, whose homes are by her grand Have swelled them over bank and bourne, With sudden floods to drown the plains And sweep along the woods uptorn. |