Chapter II: Part 2

The student of her life will note a number of sudden inspirations, or visions, as we may call them. Before these we can usually trace a long period of meditation and reflection. Her peace crusade, her conversion to the cause of woman suffrage, her dream of a golden time when men and women should work together for the betterment of the world, were all of this description.

The “Battle Hymn” was the most notable of these inspirations. In her _Recollections of the Anti-Slavery Struggle_ she ascribes its composition to two causes--the religion of humanity and the passion of patriotism. The former was a plant of slow growth. In her tribute to Theodore Parker,[22] she tells us how this developed under his preaching, and how he prepared his hearers for the war of blood and iron that soon followed.

My mother had long cherished love for her country, but it burned more intensely when the war came, bursting into sudden flame after that memorable day with the soldiers.

“When the war broke out, the passion of patriotism lent its color to the religion of humanity in my own mind, as in many others, and a moment came in which I could say:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!

--and the echo which my words awoke in many hearts made me sure that many other people had seen it also.”[23]

IV

“THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC”

“The crimson flower of battle blooms” in a single night--The vision
in the gray morning twilight--It is written down in the half-darkness
on her husband’s official paper of the U. S. Sanitary Commission--How
it was published in the _Atlantic Monthly_ and the price paid for
it--The John Brown air derived from a camp-meeting hymn--The simple
story in her own words.

Over and over again, so many times that she lost count of them, was my mother asked to describe the circumstances under which she composed “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Fortunately she wrote them down, so that we are able to give “the simple story” in her own words.

The following account is taken in part from her _Reminiscences_ and in part from the leaflet printed in honor of her seventieth birthday, May 27, 1889, by the New England Woman’s Club. She was president of this association for about forty years:

“I distinctly remember that a feeling of discouragement came over me as I drew near the city of Washington. I thought of the women of my acquaintance whose sons or husbands were fighting our great battle; the women themselves serving in the hospitals or busying themselves with the work of the Sanitary Commission. My husband, as already said, was beyond the age of military service, my eldest son but a stripling; my youngest was a child of not more than two years. I could not leave my nursery to follow the march of our armies, neither had I the practical deftness which the preparing and packing of sanitary stores demanded. Something seemed to say to me, ‘You would be glad to serve, but you cannot help any one; you have nothing to give, and there is nothing for you to do.’ Yet, because of my sincere desire, a word was given me to say which did strengthen the hearts of those who fought in the field and of those who languished in prison.

“In the late autumn of the year 1861 I visited the national capital with my husband, Dr. Howe, and a party of friends, among whom were Governor and Mrs. Andrew, Mr. and Mrs. E. P. Whipple, and my dear pastor, Rev. James Freeman Clarke.

“The journey was one of vivid, even romantic, interest. We were about to see the grim Demon of War face to face, and long before we reached the city his presence made itself felt in the blaze of fires along the road, where sat or stood our pickets, guarding the road on which we traveled.

“One day we drove out to attend a review of troops, appointed to take place at some distance from the city. In the carriage with me were James Freeman Clarke and Mr. and Mrs. Whipple. The day was fine, and everything promised well, but a sudden surprise on the part of the enemy interrupted the proceedings before they were well begun. A small body of our men had been surrounded and cut off from their companions, re-enforcements were sent to their assistance, and the expected pageant was necessarily given up. The troops who were to have taken part in it were ordered back to their quarters, and we also turned our horses’ heads homeward.

“For a long distance the foot soldiers nearly filled the road. They were before and behind, and we were obliged to drive very slowly. We presently began to sing some of the well-known songs of the war, and among them:

‘John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave.’

This seemed to please the soldiers, who cried, ‘Good for you,’ and themselves took up the strain. Mr. Clarke said to me, ‘You ought to write some new words to that tune.’ I replied that I had often wished to do so.

“In spite of the excitement of the day I went to bed and slept as usual, but awoke next morning in the gray of the early dawn, and to my astonishment found that the wished-for lines were arranging themselves in my brain. I lay quite still until the last verse had completed itself in my thoughts, then hastily arose, saying to myself, ‘I shall lose this if I don’t write it down immediately.’ I searched for a sheet of paper and an old stump of a pen which I had had the night before and began to scrawl the lines almost without looking, as I had learned to do by often scratching down verses in the darkened room where my little children were sleeping. Having completed this, I lay down again and fell asleep, but not without feeling that something of importance had happened to me.”

It will be noted that the first draft of the “Battle Hymn” was written on the back of a sheet of the letter-paper of the Sanitary Commission on which her husband was then serving. Mr. A. J. Bloor, the assistant secretary of that body, has called attention to this. His account of the eventful day is given at the close of this chapter.

My mother gave the original draft of the “Battle Hymn” to her friend, Mrs. Edwin P. Whipple, “who begged it of me, years ago.” Hence below the letter-heading:

SANITARY COMMISSION, WASHINGTON, D. C.
TREASURY BUILDING
_1861_

we find the inscription

WILLARD’S HOTEL
JULIA W. HOWE
TO
CHARLOTTE B. WHIPPLE

The draft remained for many years in the possession of the latter, until it was sent to Messrs. Houghton & Mifflin, in order to have a facsimile made for the _Reminiscences_.

Mr. and Mrs. Whipple were among the familiar friends of our household in those days. The former achieved brilliant successes both as a writer and as a lecturer. He was greatly interested in the anti-slavery agitation; “His eloquent voice was raised more than once in the cause of human freedom.” The younger members of our family remember him best for his ready and delightful wit. The fact that he was decidedly homely seemed to give additional point to his funny sayings. Mrs. Whipple was as handsome as her husband was plain--sweet-tempered and sympathetic, yet not wanting in firmness.

Before publishing the poem the author made a number of changes, all of which are, as I think, improvements. The last verse, which is an anticlimax, was cut out altogether.

We find from her letters that she hesitated to allow the publication of the original draft of the “Battle Hymn”[24] because it contained this final verse. She did not consider it equal to the rest of the poem.[25] After consulting other literary people, in her usual painstaking way, she decided to have the first draft published.[26] It will be noted that in the first verse “vintage” has been substituted for “wine press.” The first line of the third verse read originally,

I have read a burning gospel writ in fiery rows of steel.

The later version,

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:

brings out more clearly the image of the long lines of bayonets as they glittered in her sight on that autumn afternoon. In the fourth verse the second line was somewhat vague in the first draft,

He has waked the earth’s dull bosom with a high ecstatic beat,

The allusion was probably to the marching feet of the armed multitude. The new version,

He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat:

is more direct and simple, hence accords better with the deeply religious tone of the poem.

In the last stanza,

In the whiteness of the lilies he was born across the sea,

now reads,

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,

A number of people have asked the meaning of this line. The allusion is evidently to the lilies carried by the angel, in pictures of the annunciation to the Virgin, these flowers being the emblem of purity.

The original version of the second line read,

With a glory in his bosom that shines out on you and me,

The present words,

Transfigures you and me,

give us a clearer and more beautiful image. The passion of the poem seems, indeed, to lift on high and glorify our poor humanity.

It is interesting to note that my mother associated with her husband the line,

_He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat_;

Not long before her death, new buildings were erected at Watertown, Massachusetts, for the Perkins Institution for the Blind, founded and administered for more than forty years by Dr. Howe. His son-in-law, Michael Anagnos, ably continued the work during thirty more years.

When we were talking about a suitable inscription in memory of the latter, I suggested to my mother the use of this line. The answer was, “_No, that is for your father._”

The original draft of the “Battle Hymn” is dated November, 1861; it was published in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for February, 1862. The verses were printed on the first page, being thus given the place of honor. According to the custom of that day, no name was signed to them. James T. Fields was then editor of the magazine. My mother consulted him with regard to a name for the poem. It was he, as I think, who christened it “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The price paid for it was five dollars. But the true price of it was a very different thing, not to be computed in terms of money. It brought its author name and fame throughout the civilized world, in addition to the love and honor of her countrymen. As she grew older and the spiritual beauty of her life and thought shone out more and more clearly, the affection in which she was held deepened into something akin to veneration.

The “Battle Hymn” soon found its way from the pages of the _Atlantic Monthly_ into the newspapers, thence to army hymn-books and broadsides. It has been printed over and over again, in a great variety of forms, sometimes with the picture of the author, as in the Perry prints. A white silk handkerchief now in my possession bears the line,

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

worked in red embroidery silk.

My mother was called upon to copy the poem times without number. While she was very willing to write a line or even, upon occasion, a verse or two, she objected very decidedly, especially in her later years, to copying the whole poem. Always responsive to the requests of the autograph fiend, she felt that so much should not be asked of her. For it naturally took time and trouble to make the fair copy that came up to her standard. It was with some difficulty that I persuaded her to send a promised copy to Edmund Clarence Stedman, for his collection.

“But mamma, you _said_ you would write it out for him.”

With a roguish twinkle, she replied, “Yes, but I did not say _when_.”

However, the verses were duly executed and sent to the banker-poet.

“The Battle Hymn of the Republic” has been translated into Spanish, Italian, Armenian, and doubtless other languages. New tunes have been composed for it, but they have failed of acceptance. My mother dearly loved music and was a trained musician, hence her choice of a tune was no haphazard selection. She wrote her poem to the “John Brown” air and they cannot be divorced.

I have been so fortunate as to secure from Franklin B. Sanborn an account of the origin of the words and music of the “John Brown” song. Mr. Sanborn, biographer of Thoreau, John Brown, and others, is the last survivor of the brilliant group of writers belonging to the golden age of New England literature.

CONCORD, MASS., _1916_.

DEAR MRS. HALL--I investigated quite thoroughly the air to which the
original John Brown folk song was set;...

I happened to be in Boston the day that Fletcher Webster’s regiment
(the 12th Mass. Volunteers) came up from Fort Warren, landed on Long
Wharf, and marched up State Street past the old State House, on
their way to take the train for the Front, in the summer of 1861.
As they came along, a quartette, of which Capt. Howard Jenkins,
then a sergeant in this regiment, was a tenor voice, was singing
something sonorous, which I had never heard. I asked my college
friend Jacobsen, of Baltimore, who stood near me, “What are they
singing?” He replied, “That boy on the sidewalk is selling copies.”
I approached him and bought a handbill which, without the music,
contained the rude words of the John Brown song, which I then heard
for the first time, but listened to a thousand times afterward
during the progress of the emancipating Civil War--before they were
superseded by Mrs. Howe’s inspired lines, which now take their place
almost everywhere.

The chorus was borne by the marching soldiers, who had practised
it in their drills at the Fort; indeed, it had been adapted from
a camp-meeting hymn to a marching song, for which it is admirably
fitted, by the bandmaster of Col. Webster’s regiment, and afterward
revised by Dodworth’s military band, then the best in the country.
It was this thrilling music, with its resounding religious chorus,
which Mrs. Howe, in company with our Massachusetts Governor Andrew,
heard near the Potomac, the next November, in the evening camps that
encircled Washington.

Yours ever,
F. B. SANBORN.

The following account of Mrs. Howe’s visit to Washington and of the circumstances connected with the writing of the “Battle Hymn” was written by Mr. A. J. Bloor, assistant secretary of the U. S. Sanitary Commission:

“JULIA WARD HOWE

“It was the writer’s privilege to be introduced early in the Civil War to Julia Ward Howe, the author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ and now, through the fullness of her days, the dean of American literature, though recognized long ago as having employed her high gift of utterance not merely as the magnet to attract to herself an advantageous celebrity, but paramountly as the instrument for the righting of wrong and the amelioration of the current conditions of humanity.

“I was presented to Mrs. Howe by her husband, Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe, a companion of Lord Byron in aiding the Greeks to throw off the yoke of the Turks, and the philanthropist who opened the gates of hope to the famous Laura Bridgman, born blind, deaf, and dumb. Dr. Howe invented various processes by which he rescued her from her living tomb, as he subsequently did others born to similar deprivations, and he was careful to leave on record such exhaustive and clear statements as to his methods that, after his decease, the track was well illumined wherein later any well-doer for other victims in like case might open to them, through their single physical sense of touch, the doors leading to all earthly knowledge so far stored in letters....

“Dr. Howe, on the outbreak of the Civil War, consented to serve as a member of the U. S. Sanitary Commission, a volunteer organization of influential Union men, springing from a central association in New York City for the relief of the forces serving in the war, and consisting of a few Union ladies, one of whom, Miss Louisa Lee Schuyler, suggested the formation of a similar but larger and wider-spread body of men, representing the Union sentiment of the whole North, into which her own society should be merged as one of--so it turned out--many branches.

“Such a body was accordingly enrolled and, with Dr. Bellows, a prominent Unitarian clergyman of the day, as its president, was appointed a commission, by President Lincoln, as a _quasi_ Bureau of the War Department, to complement the appliances and work of the Government’s Medical Bureau and Commissariat, which, at the sudden outbreak of the war, were very deficient.

“Of this commission I was the assistant secretary, with headquarters at its central office in Washington.... On the occasion of General McClellan’s first great review of the Army of the Potomac--numbering at that time about seventy thousand men--at Upton’s Hill, in Virginia, not far from the enemy’s lines, Dr. Howe asked me to accompany him thither on horseback to see it, which I did. Mrs. Howe had preceded us, with several friends, by carriage, and it was there, in the midst of the blare and glitter and bedizened simulacra of actual and abhorrent warfare, that he did me the honor of presenting me to his wife, then known, outside her private circle, only as the author of a book of charming lyrical essays; but for years since recognized, and doubtless, in the future, will be adjudged, the inspired creator of a war song which for rapt outlook, reverent mysticism, and stateliness of expression, as well as for more widely appreciated patriotic ardor, has more claim, in my estimation, to be styled a hymn than not a few that swell the pages of some of our hymnals. I have always thought it an honor even for the Sanitary Commission with all its noble work of help to the nation in its straits, and of mercy to the suffering, that Julia Ward Howe’s ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’ should have been written on paper headed ‘U. S. Sanitary Commission,’ as may be seen by a facsimile of it in her delightful volume of reminiscences. It seems a pity that Mrs. Howe, an accomplished musical composer in private, as well as a poet in public, should not herself have set the air for her own words in that famous utterance of insight, enthusiasm, and prophecy.”

V

THE ARMY TAKES IT UP

Gloom in Libby Prison, July 6, 1863--The victory of
Gettysburg--Chaplain McCabe sings “Mine eyes have seen the glory of
the coming of the Lord”--Five hundred voices take up the chorus--The
“Battle Hymn” at the national capital--The great throng shout,
sing, and weep--Abraham Lincoln listens with a strange glory on his
face--The army takes up the song.

“The Battle Hymn of the Republic” was inspired by the tremendous issues of the war, as they were brought vividly to the poet’s mind by the sight of the Union Army.

My mother had seen all that she describes--she had been a part of the great procession of “burnished rows of steel” when her carriage was surrounded by the Army. She had heard the soldiers singing:

“John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave,
His soul is marching on.”

Old John Brown who had

Died to make men free,

whose spirit the army knew to be with them!

All this sank deeply into the heart of the poet. The soul of the Army took possession of her. The song which she wrote down in the gray twilight of that autumn morning voiced the highest aspirations of the soldiers, of the whole people. Hence, when the armies of freedom heard it, they at once hailed it as their own. My mother writes in her _Reminiscences_:

“The poem, which was soon after published in the _Atlantic Monthly_, was somewhat praised on its appearance, but the vicissitudes of the war so engrossed public attention that small heed was taken of literary matters. I knew, and was content to know, that the poem soon found its way to the camps, as I heard from time to time of its being sung in chorus by the soldiers.”

This was the beginning, but the interest increased as the “Battle Hymn” became more and more widely known, until it grew to be one of the leading lyrics of the war. It was “sung, chanted, recited, and used in exhortation and prayer on the eve of battle.” “It was the word of the hour, and the Union armies marched to its swing.”

The “singing chaplain”--Rev. Charles Cardwell McCabe of the 122d Ohio Regiment of Volunteers, did much to popularize this war lyric. Reading it in the _Atlantic Monthly_, he was so charmed with the lines that he committed them to memory before arising from his chair. A year or so later, while attending the wounded men of his regiment, after the battle of Winchester (June, 1863), he was taken prisoner and carried to Libby Prison. Here he was a living benediction to the prisoners. Deeply religious by nature and blest with a cheerful, happy disposition, he kept up the spirits of his companions, ministering alike to their bodily and spiritual needs. Thus he begged three bath-tubs for them, an inestimable treasure, even though these had to serve the needs of six hundred men. Books, too, he procured for them, for the prisoners at this time comprised a notable company of men--doctors, teachers, editors, merchants, lawyers. “We bought books when we needed bread,” the chaplain tells us.

With the music of his wonderful voice he was wont to dispel the gloom that often settled upon the inmates of the prison. Many stories are told of its power, pathos, and magnetism. Whenever the dwellers in old Libby felt depression settling upon their spirits they would call out, “Chaplain, sing us a song.” Then “The heavy load that oppressed us all seemed as by magic to be lifted.”

[27]July 6, 1863, was a dark day for the prisoners. They were 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.

The recital of her “Battle Hymn” gave so much pleasure that she was very willing to repeat it, under suitable circumstances. She was asked to do so at all times and seasons and in all sorts of places. People who requested her to recite her war lyric at the close of a lecture did not realize the fatigue that it entailed upon a person no longer young and already weary with speaking. Yet I doubt if she ever refused, when it was possible for her to comply with the request. Not long before her death, some ladies, calling upon her at her summer home near Newport, begged her to recite then and there the “Battle Hymn.” She was loth to do so, feeling the solemn words were not at all in keeping with the light and pleasant chat of a morning visit. As one of the callers was frankly an old lady, my mother at length consented. According to her custom when asked to recite under such circumstances, she withdrew for a few minutes before beginning.

There are thousands of people now living, I suppose, who have heard the author’s recitation of the “Battle Hymn.” Yet because there are thousands who never did hear it, and because these things slip so easily out of mind, it is well to give some description of it “_Lest we forget_.”

My mother repeated the verses of the hymn simply, yet with a solemnity that was all the more impressive because there was no effort at elocutionary or dramatic effect. Yet there was sufficient variety in the recitation to avoid any approach to monotony. Thus she repeated the lines

“O be swift, my soul, to answer Him, be jubilant, my feet!”

with uplifted hands, a downward glance at her feet, and voice slightly raised. Her distinct enunciation and the clear, musical tones of a voice that never grew old, made the words audible even in a large auditorium.

Her deeply serious manner, corresponding so well as it did with the solemn, prophetic words of the “Battle Hymn,” made the recitation very impressive.

We saw before us the woman who had been privileged to speak the word for the hour, in the dark days of her country’s history. It was like seeing some priestess of old delivering the sacred oracle to her people. Though the message was repeated so many times, it never lost its power to stir the souls of those who heard it.

It should be said that the habit of speaking very carefully, my mother formed early in life. Having a brother who stammered, she was very anxious to avoid that defect of speech. The beauty of her voice was due to its careful training in the Italian school of singing in her youth. Doubtless the habit of public speaking also tended to preserve it.

She occasionally repeated “The Flag,” a more dramatic and more personal poem than the “Battle Hymn.” Her rendering of it, accordingly, was more dramatic.

On public occasions my mother was often introduced as “The author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’” Sometimes the introducer would, by mistake, substitute the name of another war song, good of its kind, but hardly to be compared with my mother’s hymn. She used to say, rather plaintively, that Miss Susan B. Anthony (the well-known suffrage leader) _would_ mix up the two songs, introducing her as “_The author of the ‘Battle Cry of Freedom.’_”

It was a joy to her to be associated with the “Battle Hymn,” yet she sometimes grieved a little because this so greatly overshadowed all her other literary productions. She had labored long and earnestly with pen and voice, writing both prose and poetry which won commendation from her comrades in the world of letters. Hence she was glad to be remembered as the author, not only of her war lyric, but of other compositions as well.

My mother was asked to repeat this more and more often as its fame increased and as she herself became ever dearer to her countrymen. As early as 1865 we find that she was urged to recite it at Newport at the close of her lecture in Mr. Richard Hunt’s studio. Among those in the audience was George Bancroft, the historian, a prominent figure in Newport society of the olden days. Mr. Bancroft had held various offices under the Federal Government, that of Secretary of the Navy among others. When the Civil War broke out there was a good deal of secession feeling among the summer residents of the watering-place, but Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft were steadfastly loyal to the Union.

It is interesting to note that among the many places where its author recited the “Battle Hymn,” at least one city in the heart of the South is included. Mrs. Howe spent the winter of 1884-85 in New Orleans, having been invited to preside over the woman’s department of the exposition held there in that year.

The experience involved much hard work, but also much pleasure. She made many friends in the Crescent City, whither she and I returned eleven years later for a congress of the Association for the Advancement of Women. We were the guests of her old friend, Mrs. King, the mother of Grace King, the novelist, and were entertained by mother and daughters with charming hospitality.

I confess that it surprised me when, at an afternoon reception in the King drawing-room, my mother was asked to repeat the “Battle Hymn,” and did so. This showed us how much the old ill-feeling between North and South had died out. It demonstrated also the universal and therefore non-sectional quality of the poem, of which more will be said in the following chapter.

The “Battle Hymn” may be called universal in still another sense, since it appeals to men and women of all religious creeds. When Mrs. Howe was especially requested to recite it before a council of Jewish women, it gave her “an unexpected thrill of satisfaction.” She was warmly received and welcomed, but felt some anxiety lest the verse beginning “In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea” might disturb her hearers. The president assured her, however, that there was nothing in it to hurt their feelings.