How a “Reconstructed” Organ Talks.
We are in possession, through the courtesy of a friend now sojourning in Mobile, Ala., of late files of the papers of that city. The Mobile Daily Tribune publishes Government advertisements; and from this fact it may be regarded as quite as thoroughly “reconciled” and “re-constructed” as any of the papers of that city. We clip a few items, almost at random, from its columns.
The Tribune is evidently not a radical organ, if the following can be taken as bearing upon this point:
RADICAL. — There are some words which have that about them that inspires the beholder with disgust akin to that which the sight of a loathsome reptile fills him, and the word above we have always considered of that number. The word itself was a very innocent word till it became [polluted] by being used to designate the vilest fiends that ever become incarnate. * * The words recks with blood, and we had rather have any other word fastened to us than this bad one. But the men in the United States who have achieved eternal infamy by winning the right to be called radical, seem rather proud of the title — just as the demons who once raged in France, gloried in the names of Jacobin and Sans Culotte. And nothing tends more than this characteristic, to show the ultimate designs of those loathsome reptiles. Not content with having murdered two millions of people, white and black, by fire and sword, they are now seeking to destroy or drive to destruction as many more, by the establishment of packed juries, and the erection of gallows throughout the land.
The following extract from a notice of the “Crescent Monthly,” a literary magazine published at New Orleans, indicates the literary taste of the Tribune, and its desire to “foster and encourage every effort in the right direction:”
The May number of the “Crescent Monthly” is replete with entertaining and instructive matter. The leading article is a just and well considered epitome of Gen. Lee’s campaigns, beginning with his brilliant exploits as commander of the army of Northern Virginia, just after the battle of Seven Pines, and concluding with the mournful story of his surrender. It is a worthy contribution to the history of the late gallant, but unfortunate struggle, and a fitting tribute to the military genius and heroic qualities of our great leader.
Image from Battle of Franklin
To those who have become accustomed to the trashy literature of the North — the narrow-minded, bigoted Bostonology of the Atlantic Monthly, or of the disgusting sensationals of the Harpers, or the diluted nothings of N.P. Willis, the Crescent Monthly should be thrice welcome. We turn from the nauseating doses of Puritan literature to the solid, healthful pabulum of the Crescent, with very much the same feeling that one quits the dirty, murky atmosphere of the city, for the fresh, invigorating air and green fields of the country. The distressful lustrum through which the South has lately passed, brought with it one good effect; it exemplified us, for the time, from the periodical flood of vicious publications threw off by Northern presses.
Our aim should be to protect our homes and firesides from the influence of this baneful literature. We foster and encourage every effort in the right direction, and in this view we commend the Crescent Monthly, whose high, dignified tone and instructive pages entitle it to the support of Southern men.
We cannot conclude this notice more agreeably to our readers than by reproducing from the Crescent the following exquisite little poem by our former townsman, Harry Flash. The poetic fire glares as brightly in the soul of the young poet as when in days gone by, his graceful pen contributed so often to the pleasure of the Tribune’s many readers. But here is the poem:
Image from Legends of America
THE CONFEDERATE FLAG.
Four stormy years we saw it gleam,
A people’s hope — and then refurled,
Even while its glory was the them
Of half the world.
The beacon that, with streaming ray,
Dazzled a struggling nation’s sight —
Seeming a pillar of cloud by day,
Of fire by night.
They jeer, who trembled as it hung,
Comet-like, blazoning in the sky —
And heroes such as Homer sung,
Followed it — to die.
It fell — but stainles as it rose,
Martyred, like Stephen, in the strife;
Passing like him, girdled with foes,
From death to life.
Fame’s trophy, sanctified by tears!
Planted forever, at her portal;
Folded, true — what then? Four short years
Made it immortal.
Image of Strother from behind AotW
Au contrarie, “Porto Crayon,” the sprightly artist-contributor to Harper’s Magazine, being a Virginian, comes in for a “first-rate notice” at the hands of the “reconstructed” editor, thus:
Picking up a late number of Harper’s Monthly, sent us by a friend, we noticed that the first article was entitled “Personal Recollections of the War, by a Virginian,” and because it laid claim to such authorship, we were induced to read it. What was our indignation when we found that the creature assuming this glorious citizenship, was no other than the renegade Strother, alias Porto Crayon — the swaggering Adjutant-General of the ruffian Hunter, the burner of Virginia houses and public buildings, the murderer of Virginia’s sons; the hired scribbler and dauber of the venomous Harper’s.
Image of Stonewall Jackson from NNDB
This wretch has the impudence to write himself Virginian, without the prefix “renegade,” when by every means in his power, except great exposure of his person, he was opposing Virginia’s representative men, her Lees, Jacksons and Johnstons — was at the moment of her agony upon the cross, thrusting the finger of scorn and insult into the bleeding sides if his noble old mother. Let such creatures scribble and daub for Harper to his heart’s content; the occupation is worthy of him — but we beg of them to drop all claim to be called Southern or Virginian. Virginian! who that was not on the side of Stonewall Jackson has the shadow of a claim to be called such? World-wide as is the fame of this name it cannot be stretched to take in the same things telescopic and microscopic — Stonewall Jackson and Porto Crayon. — There must be different words to distinguish the principles of these two. * * *
After blatant professions of a determination to oppose by any means in his power, the success of the movement of Virginia in 1861, he tells how he spent much of his time on intimate terms with the officers of Gen. Johnston’s army at Harper’s Ferry, taking drawings of the works, &c., and proves by his own words, that he deserved to be hung as a spy.
But why waste any more words on such a subject? He has consigned himself to eternal infamy by being first the Adjutant-General of Hunter in his Valley march, and then the hired scribeler for Harper’s Magazine.
Image from Virginia Historical Society’s Blog
One more extract much suffice for to-day. It is a portion of a poem which is “going the rounds” of the Southern press, with editorial comments of admiration:
Gallant nation, foiled by numbers,
Say not that your hopes are fled;
Keep that Glorious flag which slumbers,
One day to avenge your dead.
Keep it, widowed, silent mothers,
Keep it, sisters mourning brothers,
Fur it with an iron will;
Furl it now but — keep it still;
Think not that its work is done.
Keep it till your children take it,
Once again to hall and make it
All their sires have bled and fought for,
All their noble hearts have sought for,
Furl that banner, sadly, slowly,
Treat it gently, for ’tis holy.
Till the day — yes, furl it sadly,
Then once more unfurl it gladly —
Conquered Banner — keep it still!
Why shouldn’t loyal sentiments like these again find expressions in the halls of Congress, and all in the departments of the Government? Why?
The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Jun 26, 1866