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James Russell Lowell - A Message Of Jeff Davis In Secret Session
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I sent you a messige, my friens, t`other day,
To tell you I`d nothin` pertickler to say:
`twuz the day our new nation gut kin` o` stillborn,
So `twuz my pleasant dooty t` acknowledge the corn,
An` I see clearly then, ef I didn`t before,
Thet the _augur_ in inauguration means _bore_.
I needn`t tell _you_ thet my messige wuz written
To diffuse correc` notions in France an` Gret Britten,
An` agin to impress on the poppylar mind
The comfort an` wisdom o` goin` it blind,--                  
To say thet I didn`t abate not a hooter
O` my faith in a happy an` glorious futur`,
Ez rich in each soshle an` p`litickle blessin`
Ez them thet we now hed the joy o` possessin`,
With a people united, an` longin` to die
For wut _we_ call their country, without askin` why,
An` all the gret things we concluded to slope for
Ez much within reach now ez ever--to hope for.
We`ve gut all the ellerments, this very hour,
Thet make up a fus`-class, self-governin` power:              
We`ve a war, an` a debt, an` a flag; an` ef this
Ain`t to be inderpendunt, why, wut on airth is?
An` nothin` now henders our takin` our station
Ez the freest, enlightenedest, civerlized nation,
Built up on our bran`-new politickle thesis
Thet a Gov`ment`s fust right is to tumble to pieces,--
I say nothin` henders our takin` our place
Ez the very fus`-best o` the whole human race,
A spittin` tobacker ez proud ez you please
On Victory`s bes` carpets, or loaf-in` at ease                  
In the Tool`ries front-parlor, discussin` affairs
With our heels on the backs o` Napoleon`s new chairs,
An` princes a-mixin` our cocktails an` slings,--
Excep`, wal, excep` jest a very few things,
Sech ez navies an` armies an` wherewith to pay,
An` gettin` our sogers to run t`other way,
An` not be too over-pertickler in tryin`
To hunt up the very las` ditches to die in.

Ther` are critters so base thet they want it explained
Jes` wut is the totle amount thet we`ve gained,                 
Ez ef we could maysure stupenjious events
By the low Yankee stan`ard o` dollars an` cents:
They seem to forgit, thet, sence last year revolved,
We`ve succeeded in gittin` seceshed an` dissolved,
An` thet no one can`t hope to git thru dissolootion
`thout some kin` o` strain on the best Constitootion.
Who asks for a prospec` more flettrin` an` bright,
When from here clean to Texas it`s all one free fight?
Hain`t we rescued from Seward the gret leadin` featurs
Thet makes it wuth while to be reasonin` creators?              
Hain`t we saved Habus Coppers, improved it in fact,
By suspendin` the Unionists `stid o` the Act?
Ain`t the laws free to all? Where on airth else d` ye see
Every freeman improvin` his own rope an` tree?
Ain`t our piety sech (in our speeches an` messiges)
Ez t` astonish ourselves in the bes`-composed pessiges,
An` to make folks thet knowed us in th` ole state o` things
Think convarsion ez easy ez drinkin` gin-slings?
It`s ne`ssary to take a good confident tone
With the public; but here, jest amongst us, I own               
Things look blacker `n thunder. Ther` `s no use denyin`
We`re clean out o` money, an` `most out o` lyin`;
Two things a young nation can`t mennage without,
Ef she wants to look wal at her fust comin` out;
For the fust supplies physickle strength, while the second
Gives a morril advantage thet`s hard to be reckoned:
For this latter I`m willin` to du wut I can;
For the former you`ll hev to consult on a plan,--
Though our _fust_ want (an` this pint I want your best views on)
Is plausible paper to print I.O.U.s on.                        
Some gennlemen think it would cure all our cankers
In the way o` finance, ef we jes` hanged the bankers;
An` I own the proposle `ud square with my views,
Ef their lives wuzn`t all thet we`d left `em to lose.
Some say thet more confidence might be inspired,
Ef we voted our cities an` towns to be fired,--
A plan thet `ud suttenly tax our endurance,
Coz `twould be our own bills we should git for th` insurance;
But cinders, no matter how sacred we think `em,
Mightn`t strike furrin minds ez good sources of income,        
Nor the people, perhaps, wouldn`t like the eclaw
O` bein` all turned into paytriots by law.
Some want we should buy all the cotton an` burn it,
On a pledge, when we`ve gut thru the war, to return it,--
Then to take the proceeds an` hold _them_ ez security
For an issue o` bonds to be met at maturity
With an issue o` notes to be paid in hard cash
On the fus` Monday follerin` the `tarnal Allsmash:
This hez a safe air, an`, once hold o` the gold,
`ud leave our vile plunderers out in the cold,                  
An` _might_ temp` John Bull, ef it warn`t for the dip he
Once gut from the banks o` my own Massissippi.
Some think we could make, by arrangin` the figgers,
A hendy home-currency out of our niggers;
But it wun`t du to lean much on ary sech staff,
For they`re gittin` tu current a`ready, by half.

One gennleman says, ef we lef` our loan out
Where Floyd could git hold on `t _he_`d take it, no doubt;
But `tain`t jes` the takin`, though `t hez a good look,
We mus` git sunthin` out on it arter it`s took,                
An` we need now more`n ever, with sorrer I own,
Thet some one another should let us a loan,
Sence a soger wun`t fight, on`y jes` while he draws his
Pay down on the nail, for the best of all causes,
`thout askin` to know wut the quarrel`s about,--
An` once come to thet, why, our game is played out.
It`s ez true ez though I shouldn`t never hev said it,
Thet a hitch hez took place in our system o` credit;
I swear it`s all right in my speeches an` messiges,
But ther`s idees afloat, ez ther` is about sessiges:            
Folks wun`t take a bond ez a basis to trade on,
Without nosin` round to find out wut it`s made on,
An` the thought more an` more thru the public min` crosses
Thet our Treshry hez gut `mos` too many dead hosses.
Wut`s called credit, you see, is some like a balloon,
Thet looks while it`s up `most ez harnsome `z a moon,
But once git a leak in `t, an` wut looked so grand
Caves righ` down in a jiffy ez flat ez your hand.
Now the world is a dreffle mean place, for our sins,
Where ther` ollus is critters about with long pins               
A-prickin` the bubbles we`ve blowed with sech care,
An` provin` ther` `s nothin` inside but bad air:
They`re all Stuart Millses, poor-white trash, an` sneaks,
Without no more chivverlry `n Choctaws or Creeks,
Who think a real gennleman`s promise to pay
Is meant to be took in trade`s ornery way:
Them fellers an` I couldn` never agree;
They`re the nateral foes o` the Southun Idee;
I`d gladly take all of our other resks on me
To be red o` this low-lived politikle `con`my!                  

Now a dastardly notion is gittin` about
Thet our bladder is bust an` the gas oozin` out,
An` onless we can mennage in some way to stop it,
Why, the thing`s a gone coon, an` we might ez wal drop it.
Brag works wal at fust, but it ain`t jes` the thing
For a stiddy inves`ment the shiners to bring,
An` votin` we`re prosp`rous a hundred times over
Wun`t change bein` starved into livin` in clover.
Manassas done sunthin` tow`rds drawin` the wool
O`er the green, antislavery eyes o` John Bull:                  
Oh, _warn`t_ it a godsend, jes` when sech tight fixes
Wuz crowdin` us mourners, to throw double-sixes!
I wuz tempted to think, an` it wuzn`t no wonder,
Ther` wuz really a Providence,--over or under,--
When, all packed for Nashville, I fust ascertained
From the papers up North wut a victory we`d gained.
`twuz the time for diffusin` correc` views abroad
Of our union an` strength an` relyin` on God;
An`, fact, when I`d gut thru my fust big surprise,
I much ez half b`lieved in my own tallest lies,                 
An` conveyed the idee thet the whole Southun popperlace
Wuz Spartans all on the keen jump for Thermopperlies,
Thet set on the Lincolnites` bombs till they bust,
An` fight for the priv`lege o` dyin` the fust;
But Roanoke, Bufort, Millspring, an` the rest
Of our recent starn-foremost successes out West,
Hain`t left us a foot for our swellin` to stand on,--
We`ve showed _too_ much o` wut Buregard calls _abandon_,
For all our Thermopperlies (an` it`s a marcy
We hain`t hed no more) hev ben clean vicy-varsy,                
An` wut Spartans wuz lef` when the battle wuz done
Wuz them thet wuz too unambitious to run.

Oh, ef we hed on`y jes` gut Reecognition,
Things now would ha` ben in a different position!
You`d ha` hed all you wanted: the paper blockade
Smashed up into toothpicks; unlimited trade
In the one thing thet`s needfle, till niggers, I swow,
Hed ben thicker`n provisional shin-plasters now;
Quinine by the ton `ginst the shakes when they seize ye;
Nice paper to coin into C.S.A. specie;                          
The voice of the driver`d be heerd in our land,
An` the univarse scringe, ef we lifted our hand:
Wouldn`t _thet_ be some like a fulfillin` the prophecies,
With all the fus` fem`lies in all the fust offices?
`twuz a beautiful dream, an` all sorrer is idle,--
But _ef_ Lincoln _would_ ha` hanged Mason an` Slidell!
For wouldn`t the Yankees hev found they`d ketched Tartars,
Ef they`d raised two sech critters as them into martyrs?
Mason _wuz_ F.F.V., though a cheap card to win on,
But t`other was jes` New York trash to begin on;                
They ain`t o` no good in European pellices,
But think wut a help they`d ha` ben on their gallowses!
They`d ha` felt they wuz truly fulfillin` their mission,
An` oh, how dog-cheap we`d ha` gut Reecognition!

But somehow another, wutever we`ve tried,
Though the the`ry`s fust-rate, the facs _wun`t_ coincide:
Facs are contrary `z mules, an` ez hard in the mouth,
An` they allus hev showed a mean spite to the South.
Sech bein` the case, we hed best look about
For some kin` o` way to slip _our_ necks out:              
Le`s vote our las` dollar, ef one can be found,
(An`, at any rate, votin` it hez a good sound,)--
Le``s swear thet to arms all our people is flyin`,
(The critters can`t read, an` wun`t know how we`re lyin`,)--
Thet Toombs is advancin` to sack Cincinnater,
With a rovin` commission to pillage an` slahter,--
Thet we`ve throwed to the winds all regard for wut`s lawfle,
An` gone in for sunthin` promiscu`sly awfle.
Ye see, hitherto, it`s our own knaves an` fools
Thet we`ve used, (those for whetstones, an` t`others ez tools,)     
An` now our las` chance is in puttin` to test
The same kin` o` cattle up North an` out West,--
Your Belmonts, Vallandighams, Woodses, an` sech,
Poor shotes thet ye couldn`t persuade us to tech,
Not in ornery times, though we`re willin` to feed `em
With a nod now an` then, when we happen to need `em;
Why, for my part, I`d ruther shake hands with a nigger
Than with cusses that load an` don`t darst dror a trigger;
They`re the wust wooden nutmegs the Yankees perdooce,
Shaky everywheres else, an` jes` sound on the goose;            
They ain`t wuth a cuss, an` I set nothin` by `em,
But we`re in sech a fix thet I s`pose we mus` try `em.
I--But, Gennlemen, here`s a despatch jes` come in
Which shows thet the tide`s begun turnin` agin`,--
Gret Cornfedrit success! C`lumbus eevacooated!
I mus` run down an` hev the thing properly stated,
An` show wut a triumph it is, an` how lucky
To fin`lly git red o` thet cussed Kentucky,--
An` how, sence Fort Donelson, winnin` the day
Consists in triumphantly gittin` away.
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