required to cast lots for the selection of two captains who were
to be executed. These officers were taken to the dungeon below and
told to prepare for death. Then the remaining men huddled together
discussing the situation. The Confederate forces were marching north,
and a terrible battle had been fought. Grant was striving to capture
Vicksburg, the key to the Mississippi, with what result they did not
know. The Richmond newspapers brought tidings of disaster to the Union
armies. In startling head-lines the prisoners read: “Meade defeated
at Gettysburg.” “The Northern Army fleeing to the mountains.” “Grant
repulsed at Vicksburg.” “The campaign closed in disaster.”
A pall deeper and darker than death settled upon the Union prisoners.
The poor, emaciated fellows broke down and cried like babies. They lost
all hope. “We had not enough strength left to curse God and die,” as
one of them said later.
“By and by ‘Old Ben,’ a negro servant, slipped in among them under
pretense of doing some work about the prison; concealed under his coat
was a later edition of the paper, on which the ink was scarcely dry.
He looked around upon the prostrate host, and called out, ‘Great news
in de papers.’ If you have never seen a resurrection, you could not
tell what happened. We sprang to our feet and snatched the papers from
his hands. Some one struck a light and held aloft a dim candle. By its
light we read these head-lines:
‘Lee is defeated! His pontoons are swept away! The Potomac is over its
banks! The whole North is up in arms and sweeping down upon him!’
“The revulsion of feeling was almost too great to endure. The boys went
crazy with joy. They saw the beginning of the end.” Chaplain McCabe
sprang upon a box and began to sing:
“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord--”
and the five hundred voices sang the chorus, “Glory, Glory,
Hallelujah,” as men never sang before. The old negro rolled upon the
floor in spasms of joy. I must not forget to add that the two captains
were _not_ executed, after all.
Chaplain McCabe remained in Libby Prison until October, 1863, when
an attack of typhoid fever nearly cost him his life. As soon as his
health would permit, he resumed his labors in behalf of the Army, this
time as a delegate of the United States Christian Commission. His
deep religious feeling, of which patriotism was an integral part, had
a great influence among the soldiers. Wherever he went he took the
“Battle Hymn” with him. “He sang it to the soldiers in camp and field
and hospital; he sang it in school-houses and churches; he sang it
at camp-meetings, political gatherings, and the Christian Commission
assemblies, and all the Northland took it up.”[28]
As he wrote the author:
“I have sung it a thousand times since and shall continue to sing it as
long as I live. No hymn has ever stirred the nation’s heart like ‘The
Battle Hymn of the Republic.’”
I must not forget to say that the singing chaplain made excellent use
of this war lyric to raise funds for the work among the soldiers. With
his matchless voice he sang thousands of dollars out of the people’s
pockets into the treasury of the Christian Commission.
On February 2, 1864, a meeting in the interests of the Christian
Commission was held in the hall of the House of Representatives at
Washington. Hannibal Hamlin, Vice-President of the United States,
presided. Abraham Lincoln was present, and an immense audience filled
the hall. Various noted men spoke; then Chaplain McCabe made a short
speech and, “by request,” sang the “Battle Hymn.” The effect on the
great throng was magical. “Men and women sprang to their feet and wept
and shouted and sang, as the chaplain led them in that glorious ‘Battle
Hymn’; they saw Abraham Lincoln’s tear-stained face light up with a
strange glory as he cried out, ‘_Sing it again!_’ and McCabe and all
the multitude sang it again.”[29]
Doubtless many Grand Army posts have among their records stories of the
inspiring influence of this song in times of trouble or danger. Such an
anecdote was related at the Western home of Mrs. Caroline M. Severance,
where Acker Post had been invited to meet my mother:
“Capt. Isaac Mahan affectingly described a certain march on a winter
midnight through eastern Tennessee. The troops had been for days
without enough clothing, without enough food. They were cold and wet
that stormy night, hungry, weary, discouraged, morose. But some one
soldier began, in courageous tones, to sing ‘Mine eyes have seen--’
Before the phrase was finished a hundred more voices were heard about
the hopeful singer. Another hundred more distant and then another
followed until, far to the front and away to the rear, above the
splashing tramp of the army through the mud, above the rattle of the
horsemen, the rumble of the guns, the creaking of the wagons, and the
shouts of the drivers, there echoed, louder and softer, as the rain and
wind-gusts varied, the cheerful, dauntless invocation of the ‘Battle
Hymn.’ It was heard as if a heavenly ally were descending with a song
of succor, and thereafter the wet, aching marchers thought less that
night of their wretched selves, thought more of their cause, their
families, their country.”
Mr. A. J. Bloor, assistant secretary of the United States Sanitary
Commission, has given us some vivid pictures of the soldiers as they
sang the hymn:
“Time and again, around the camp-fires scattered at night over some
open field, when the Army of the Potomac--or a portion of it--was on
the march, have I heard the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’--generally,
however, the first verse only, but in endless repetition--sung in
unison by hundreds of voices--occasions more impressive than that of
any oratorio sung by any musical troupe in some great assembly-room.
And I remember how, one night in the small hours, returning to
Washington from the front, by Government steamer up the Potomac, with
a party of ‘San. Com.’ colleagues and Army officers, mostly surgeons,
we found our horses awaiting us at the Seventh Street dock; and how,
mounting them, we galloped all the long distance to our quarters,
singing the ‘Battle Hymn’--this time the whole of it--at the top of our
voices.”
VI
NOTABLE OCCASIONS WHERE IT HAS BEEN SUNG
By great crowds in the street after Union victories in the Civil
War--On the downfall of Boss Croker--At Memorial Day celebrations
from the Atlantic to the Pacific--At the Chicago convention where the
General Federation of Women’s Clubs indorsed woman suffrage--At Brown
University and Smith College when Mrs. Howe received the degree of
LL.D.
“The Battle Hymn of the Republic” has been sung and recited thousands
of times, by all sorts of people under widely varying circumstances,
yet the key-note of it is most fitly struck when men and women are
lifted out of themselves by the power of strong emotion. In times of
danger and of thanksgiving the “Battle Hymn” is now, as it was in the
’sixties, the fitting vehicle for the expression of national feeling.
Indeed, it has been so used in other countries as well as in our own.
In my mother’s journal the entry often occurs, “They sang my ‘Battle
Hymn.’” Usually she makes no comment.
It would, of course, be impossible and it might be tedious to rehearse
all the notable occasions where this national song has been given. Yet
many of them have been so full of interest as to demand a place in the
story of the “Battle Hymn.” The record would be incomplete without
them. I give a few which will serve as samples.
In New York City there was a good deal of disloyal sentiment during the
Civil War. Here the draft riots took place in the summer of 1863, when
the guns from the battle of Gettysburg were rushed to the metropolis.
Here the cannon, their wheels still deeply incrusted with mud, were
drawn up, a grim reminder to the rioters of the actual meaning of war.
To these the sight of a uniform was odious. My husband, David Prescott
Hall, then a young lad returning from a summer camping trip, was chased
through the streets by some excited individuals. As he had a knapsack
on his back, they mistook him for a soldier.
It need scarcely be said that New York City had also a large loyal
population. In the early days of the war men suspected of secession
sympathies were visited by deputations of citizens who insisted upon
their displaying the flag. They found it wiser to do so. After one
of the final victories of the war, perhaps the taking of Richmond, a
great crowd gathered before the bulletin-board of a New York newspaper.
Some one started to sing the “Battle Hymn” and the whole mass of people
took it up, “_Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!_” What else could so well have
expressed the joy and thanksgiving of our people, weary of four long
years of fratricidal war! My husband, who was present, described the
scene as being most impressive.
F. B. Sanborn in his _Early History of Kansas_ tells us an interesting
story of the singing of the “Battle Hymn” on a very different occasion.
“People were gathered together to hear a sermon from Col. James
Montgomery, a man of undaunted courage and a veteran both of the Civil
War and of the Kansas struggle. The place was Trading Post, where,
during the Kansas troubles, some fourteen years before this time, a
massacre had been perpetrated. Among his audience were survivors and
relatives of the slain. There were present, too, a score of men who
had ‘shouted amen when their renowned leader registered his vow that
the blood of the dead and the tears of the widows and children should
not be shed in vain.’ Montgomery was of the indomitable Scotch-Irish
blood, tall and slender, with a shaggy shock of long black hair and
even shaggier whiskers.
“As he arose to begin the services and fixed his gaze on the familiar
faces of those who had suffered and whose sufferings he had so fully
avenged, a gleam of joy and satisfaction seemed to blaze from his
penetrating eyes and thrilled the audience into perfect accord. He
hesitated a moment, and then requested all to arise and sing ‘The
Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ The noble thought of that grand hymn
stirred the crowd to the deepest depths of feeling. The text was in
keeping with the occasion:
“‘Be not deceived. God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that
shall he also reap.’
“The discourse was powerful and impressive. He reminded his hearers
of his prophecy that the remaining years of slavery could be numbered
on the fingers of one hand, and that he should lead a host of negro
soldiers, arrayed in the national uniform, in the redemption of the
country from the curse of slavery. A few days afterward the old
Covenanter was dead!”
To the Grand Army of the Republic Julia Ward Howe was especially dear.
On Memorial Day a detachment always visits and decorates her grave,
with simple but impressive ceremonies. Upon that of her husband, which
lies next to hers, the Greeks always lay flowers. This festival of
remembrance comes only three days after my mother’s birthday, May 27th.
In 1899, when she was eighty years of age, the ceremonies in Boston
were of unusual interest.
The Grand Army of the Republic held a celebration in Boston Theater,
Major-General Joseph Wheeler, formerly an officer in the Confederate
Army, having been invited to deliver the address. Mrs. Howe rode
thither in an open carriage with the general’s two daughters, “_very_
pleasant girls.”
The Philadelphia _Press_ thus describes the occasion:
“BOSTON WARMED UP
“The major has just returned from Boston, where he was present at the
Memorial Day services held in Boston Theater.
“It was the real thing. I never imagined possible such a genuine
sweeping emotion as when that audience began to sing the ‘Battle Hymn.’
If Boston was cold, it was thawed by the demonstration on Tuesday.
Myron W. Whitney started to sing. He bowed to a box, in which we first
recognized Mrs. Howe, sitting with the Misses Wheeler. You should have
heard the yell. We could see the splendid white head trembling; then
her voice joined in, as Whitney sang, ‘In the beauty of the lilies,’
and by the time he had reached the words, ‘As He died to make men holy,
let us die to make men free,’ the whole vast audience was on its feet,
sobbing and singing at the top of its thousands of lungs. If volunteers
were really needed for the Philippines, McKinley could have had us all
right there.”
This was in her adopted city of Boston, where she had lived for more
than half a century. The Grand Army men of California gave her a
similar reception on Memorial Day, 1888.
We quote extracts from the San Francisco papers describing it:
“The Grand Opera House never contained a larger audience. Not only were
all the chairs taken up but every inch of standing-room was pre-empted.
There were many persons who could not gain an entrance.... Mr. Dibble
next called the attention of the audience to the fact that Mrs. Julia
Ward Howe, the author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ was among
the guests of the evening.
“At this juncture an enthusiastic gentleman in one of the front seats
sprang up and called for three cheers for Mrs. Howe. They were given
with a vim, Mrs. Howe acknowledging the compliment by rising and
bowing.... The next event upon the program was the singing of ‘The
Battle Hymn of the Republic’ by J. C. Hughes. The singing was preceded
by a scene rarely witnessed and which was not on the printed program.
General Salomon introduced Mrs. Howe to the audience in an appreciative
speech.
“A beautiful floral piece was then presented to Mrs. Howe, which she
acknowledged in fitting terms, while the audience gave three cheers and
a tiger for the author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’
“Mrs. Howe advanced to the footlights, beaming with pleasure. She then
said:
“‘My dear friends, I cannot, with my weak voice, reach this vast
assemblage; but I will endeavor to have some of you hear me. I join in
this celebration with thrilled and uplifted heart. I remember those
camp-fires, I remember those dreadful battles. It was a question with
us women, “Will our men prevail? Until they do, they will not come
home.” How we blessed them when they did; how we blessed them with our
prayers when they were on the battle-field. Those were times of sorrow;
this is one of joy. Let us thank God who has given us these victories.’
“As Mrs. Howe was about to resume her seat the audience rose _en
masse_, and from the dress-circle to the upper gallery rung a round of
cheers.
“The audience remained standing while Mr. Hughes sang the stirring
words of the hymn, and joined heartily in the chorus as by request.
At the last chorus Mrs. Howe stepped forward and joined in the song,
closing with a general flutter of handkerchiefs.”
My mother visited the Pacific coast twice in the latter years of her
life, as her beloved sister, Mrs. Adolphe Mailliard, then lived there.
She was received in a way that was very gratifying to her and her
family.
One of the most dearly prized privileges of a self-governing people
is that of constant grumbling over the administration of affairs and
of finding fault with our rulers--who, in the last analysis, are
ourselves. In England men write to the _Times_; in America we write
to many papers and we complain endlessly. This would evidently be
impossible under a despotic Government, and it sometimes seems as
if we indulged too freely in depreciating our own country and its
institutions. Yet deep down in the hearts of our people is a love
of our native land which flames forth brightly on great occasions.
The country which produced the “Battle Hymn” is not lacking in true
patriotism. So long as our people use it to express their deepest
emotions we need fear no serious treason to the Republic. The danger
of our frequent fault-finding is that we thus allow our righteous
indignation to evaporate in mere words.
Supineness in politics, an indolence which permits unworthy men to
usurp the reins of government, is one of our great sins as a nation.
Yet the corrupt manipulator who goes too far meets an uprising of
popular indignation which thoroughly surprises him. From the New York
_Sun_ we quote the story of such a day of retribution.
At the downfall of Boss Croker “a throng gathered in Madison Square.
Not even in a Presidential election in recent years have there been
such innumerable hosts as gathered in front of the Fifth Avenue Hotel
and the Hoffman House last night to hear of the doom of Croker and
his cronies. Cheer upon cheer ascended when the mighty army read that
Low was far ahead and would win in the great battle.” Some one struck
up the “Battle Hymn.” “All over the square were heard the thousands
singing this great hymn.... There has not been such a scene in New York
City since war days.”
Among the notable occasions we must certainly count the unveiling
of the Shaw Monument. Here the art of St.-Gaudens has preserved in
immemorial stone the story of Robert Gould Shaw and his colored
soldiers, the heroes of Fort Wagner. The monument stands just within
old Boston Common, facing the State House. The ceremonies of dedication
included a procession and a meeting in Music Hall, where Prof. William
James and Booker Washington made the principal addresses, and the
“Battle Hymn” was sung.
My mother is best known as the author of the “Battle Hymn.” Soon after
the war she began her efforts in behalf of the woman’s cause, which
eventually won for her the great affection of her countrywomen as well
as a reputation extending to foreign shores. She was deeply interested
both in the club and in the suffrage movement. She lived to see the
full flowering of the former and the partial success of the latter.
Despite the many weary trials and delays she never lost faith in the
ultimate victory of the suffrage cause. “I shall live to see women win
the franchise in New York State,” she declared, not many years before
her death.
In the early days of the club movement my mother, like most of her
fellow-suffragists, thought it best not to mingle the two issues.
While the more advanced thinkers among the club women believed in the
enfranchisement of their sex, the majority did not.
At last the two movements--like two rapidly flowing streams that have
long been drawing nearer together--joined in one mighty river. I have
often wished my mother could have lived to see that wonderful day at
Chicago when the General Federation of Women’s Clubs--an association
comprising more than one and a half million women--declared themselves,
amid cheers and tears, in favor of votes for women. Every one was
deeply moved; the delegates embraced one another, and the “Battle Hymn”
was sung--a hymn this time of joyous thanksgiving for the victory
obtained, yet of solemn dedication, too, to the hard labor still to be
performed before the good fight could be fully won.
My mother describes one occasion where the “Battle Hymn” was given in
dumb show before the Association for the Advancement of Women. She
was very much attached to this pioneer society, of which she was the
president during many years. The association held annual congresses
in different parts of the United States, the proceedings eliciting
much interest. When they were at X---- one of the members invited
the society to visit a school for young girls of which she was the
principal.
“After witnessing some interesting exercises we assemble in the large
hall, where a novel entertainment has been provided for us. A band of
twelve young ladies appear upon the platform. They wear the colors of
‘Old Glory,’ but after a new fashion, four of them being arrayed from
head to foot in red, four in blue, and four in white. While the ‘John
Brown’ tune is heard from the piano, they proceed to act in graceful
dumb show the stanzas of my ‘Battle Hymn.’ How they did it I cannot
tell, but it was a most lovely performance.”[30]
In the early days of the woman movement a hard struggle was
necessary in order to secure for girls the advantages of the higher
education. Into this my mother threw herself with her accustomed
zeal. A lifelong student and lover of books, she ardently desired to
secure for other women the advantages she herself so highly prized.
Enjoying robust health, and accustomed to prolonged mental labor,
she never doubted the capacity of her sex for serious study. So,
despite the gloomy prognostications of learned doctors (all men),
she and her fellow-suffragists persevered until the battle was won.
Thus it was very fitting that the three institutions which bestowed
honorary degrees upon her--Tufts College, Brown University, and Smith
College--all counted women among their students. Her youngest daughter,
Maud Howe Elliott, thus describes the scene at Providence:[31]
“On June 16th (1909) Brown University, her husband’s _alma mater_
and her grandfather’s, conferred upon her the degree of Doctor of
Laws.... Her name was called last. With the deliberate step of age, she
walked forward, wearing her son’s college gown over her white dress,
his mortar-board cap over her lace veil. She seemed less moved than
any person present; she could not see what we saw, the tiny gallant
figure bent with four score and ten years of study and hard labor.
As she moved between the girl students who stood up to let her pass,
she whispered: ‘How tall they are! It seems to me the girls are much
taller than they used to be.’ Did she realize how much shorter she was
than she once had been? I think not. Then, her eyes sparkling with fun
while all other eyes were wet, she shook her hard-earned diploma with
a gay gesture in the faces of those girls, cast on them a keen glance
that somehow was a challenge, ‘Catch up with me if you can!’” The band
played the air of the “Battle Hymn” and applause followed her as she
went back to her seat.
“She had labored long for the higher education of women, suffered
estrangement, borne ridicule for it--the sight of those girl graduates,
starting on their life voyage equipped with a good education, was
like a sudden realization of a lifelong dream, uplifted her, gave her
strength for the fatigues of the day.”
A similar scene was enacted in October, 1910, shortly before her death,
when Smith College conferred the same degree upon her.
“Opposite the platform, as if hung in air, a curving gallery was
filled with white-clad girls, some two thousand of them; as she entered
they rose like a flock of doves, and with them the whole audience. They
rose once more when her name was called, last in the list of those
honored with degrees, and as she came forward, the organ pealed, and
the great chorus of fresh young voices broke out with--
“‘Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,’
“It was the last time.”[32]
VII
HOW AND WHERE THE AUTHOR RECITED IT
The simplicity and deep earnestness of her manner--Her clear and
musical voice which never grew old--How Susan B. Anthony “mixed up”
two songs--Gladdened by the love and honor which it brought her, Mrs.
Howe repeats the “Battle Hymn” in all parts of the country before
all sorts of audiences, small and great--Why its appeal to the human
heart is universal.
It may be imagined that the heart of the woman who wrote the “Battle
Hymn” was greatly gladdened by the love and honor which it brought
her. She enjoyed to the full the beautiful affection shown her by
her countrymen and countrywomen, and, in my opinion, her happy and
sympathetic relations with them prolonged her life. She was glad to
live, despite the physical weakness of old age, because she knew that
she was widely beloved and could still be of use. Her mind remained
clear and brilliant to the very last.
The honors paid her she received with the humility that dreads
over-praise. In her journal she questions her worthiness to be made so
much of, and hopes to the end that she may be able to do something of
value to mankind.