Part 3

Just at this time a young singer who was very popular in Philadelphia was to be given a benefit at one of the theaters. This young man was a school friend of Joseph Hopkinson. They had kept up their acquaintance after their school-days had passed, and one Saturday afternoon he called on Hopkinson to talk over with him his benefit which was announced for the following Monday. He said he had every prospect of suffering a loss instead of receiving a benefit from the performance; but that if he could get a patriotic song adapted to the tune of the _President's March_, then the popular air, he would no doubt have a full house. The poor fellow was almost in despair about it, as the poets of the theatrical corps had been trying to accomplish it, and had come to the conclusion that no words could be composed to suit the music of that march. The young lawyer told his friend that he would try what he could do for him. He came the next afternoon, and the song, _Hail Columbia_, was ready for him. It was announced on Monday morning, and the theater was crowded to overflowing, and so continued, night after night, for the rest of the season. The excitement about it grew so great that the song was not only encored but had to be repeated many times each night, the audience joining in the chorus. It was also sung at night in the streets by large crowds of citizens, which often included members of Congress and other distinguished public officials. The enthusiasm spread to other cities and the song was caught up and reëchoed at all kinds of public gatherings throughout the United States.

The object of Mr. Hopkinson in writing the song, in addition to doing a kind deed for his friend and schoolmate, was to arouse an American spirit which should be independent of and above the interests, passions, and policy of both belligerents, and look and feel exclusively for our own honor and rights. For this reason no allusion was made to France or England, or to the war which was raging between them, or to our indignation as to their treatment of us. It was this prudence which gave the song its universal popularity. It found equal favor with both parties, for neither could disown the loyal sentiments it inculcated. It was so purely American, and nothing else, that the patriotic feelings of every American heart responded to it.

The _President's March_, for which the poem was specially written and to which it was easily adapted, was composed in honor of President Washington, who then resided at 190 High Street, Philadelphia. The composer of the popular air was Philip Roth, a teacher of music. Not a great deal is left on record about him, but it is declared that he was a very eccentric character, familiarly known as "Old Roat." It is also said that he took snuff immoderately. A claim has been set up for Professor Phyla, of Philadelphia, but the evidence favors Roth.

During the centennial year an autograph copy of _Hail Columbia_ was displayed in the museum at Independence Hall, Philadelphia. This copy was written from memory, February 22, 1828, and presented to George M. Kein, Esq., of Reading, in compliance with a request made by him. This interesting manuscript has marginal notes, one of which informs us that the lines:--

"Behold the chief who now commands, Once more to serve his country stands, The rock on which the storm will beat; The rock on which the storm will beat. But, arm'd in virtue firm and true, His hopes are fix'd on Heaven and you. When hope was sinking in dismay, And glooms obscured Columbia's day, His steady mind, from changes free, Resolved on death or liberty,"

refer to John Adams, who was President of the United States at the time _Hail Columbia_ was written. Mr. Hopkinson also presented General Washington with an autograph copy of his poem, and received from him a complimentary letter of thanks, which is now in possession of his descendants.

_COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN._

O Columbia! the gem of the ocean, The home of the brave and the free; The shrine of each patriot's devotion, A world offers homage to thee. Thy mandates make heroes assemble When Liberty's form stands in view, Thy banners make tyranny tremble When borne by the red, white, and blue, When borne by the red, white, and blue, When borne by the red, white, and blue, Thy banners make tyranny tremble When borne by the red, white, and blue.

When war winged its wide desolation, And threaten'd the land to deform; The ark then of Freedom's foundation, Columbia, rode safe through the storm: With her garlands of vict'ry around her, When so proudly she bore her brave crew, With her flag proudly floating before her, The boast of the red, white, and blue, The boast of the red, white, and blue, The boast of the red, white, and blue, With her flag proudly floating before her, The boast of the red, white, and blue.

The winecup, the winecup bring hither, And fill you it true to the brim; May the wreaths they have won never wither Nor the star of their glory grow dim. May the service united ne'er sever, But they to their colors prove true, The Army and Navy forever, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, The Army and Navy forever, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue.

--_Thomas à Becket._

This splendid song, as popular, perhaps, as any of America's patriotic hymns, was written in 1843 by a young actor named Thomas à Becket. He was engaged at that time at the Chestnut Street Theater, in Philadelphia. He was waited upon by a Mr. D. T. Shaw, an acquaintance, who was also an actor, with the request that he would write him a song for his benefit night. Mr. Shaw had been trying to write one for himself, but had made a sad failure of it. He produced some patriotic lines, and asked Mr. À Becket's opinion on them; he found them ungrammatical and so deficient in measure as to be totally unfit to be set to music. They went to the house of a mutual friend, and there À Becket wrote the two first verses in pencil, and sitting down at a piano in the room of the friend's house, he composed the melody. On reaching home that evening he added the third verse, wrote the symphonies and arrangements, made a fair copy in ink, and gave it to Mr. Shaw, requesting him not to give or sell a copy to any one.

A few weeks afterward Mr. À Becket left for New Orleans, and a little while later was greatly astonished to see a published copy of his song entitled, "_Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean_, written, composed, and sung by David T. Shaw, and arranged by T. à Becket, Esq." On his return to Philadelphia he sought out Mr. Willig, the publisher, who told him he had purchased the song from Mr. Shaw. Mr. À Becket produced the original copy in pencil, and claimed the copyright, which Mr. Willig admitted, making some severe remarks upon Shaw's conduct in the affair. A week later it appeared under its proper title, "_Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean_, written and composed by T. à Becket, and sung by D. T. Shaw." The song has been often printed under the title _The Red, White, and Blue_, and is very familiarly known as "The Army and Navy Song," from being peculiarly adapted to reunions of the two wings of the military department of the government.

Mr. E. L. Davenport, an eminent actor, sung the song nightly in London for many weeks, where it became very popular. It was printed there under the title _Britannia, the Pride of the Ocean_. On this account some people have supposed the English version to be the original, and ours merely an adaptation of it. That part of its title, "The Gem of the Ocean," belongs to the Emerald Isle, rather than to Columbia, and seems more appropriate to designate an island power like Great Britain than a continental power like the United States. However, it is beginning to look as though we might have islands of our own in abundance.

While red, white, and blue have for a long time been the ranking order of the colors of British national ensigns, with us _blue_--the blue of the union, the firmament of our constellation of stars--claims the first place on our colors, red the second, and white the third; so that for us the song should read,--

"When borne by the blue, red, and white,"

instead of,--

"When borne by the red, white, and blue."

These lapses are explained by the fact that the author was an Englishman by birth, and it was very natural that he should make them. Though written by a native-born Englishman, the song was thoroughly American in its inception and origin. In the English version, already referred to, the first line is altered to read,--

"Britannia, the pride of the ocean."

In these days of kindly fellowship with England, Americans are perfectly willing to share their song of "red, white, and blue" with their cousins across the water.

_THE FLAG OF OUR UNION._

A song for our banner, the watchword recall Which gave the Republic her station: "United we stand--divided we fall!" It made and preserves us a nation. The union of lakes, the union of lands, The union of States none can sever! The union of hearts, the union of hands, And the Flag of our Union forever and ever, The Flag of our Union forever!

What God in his infinite wisdom designed, And armed with republican thunder, Not all the earth's despots and factions combined Have the power to conquer or sunder. The union of lakes, the union of lands, The union of States none can sever! The union of hearts, the union of hands, And the Flag of our Union forever and ever, The Flag of our Union forever!

Oh, keep that flag flying! The pride of the van! To all other nations display it! The ladies for union are to a--man! And not to the man who'd betray it. Then the union of lakes, the union of lands, The union of States none can sever! The union of hearts, the union of hands, And the Flag of the Union forever!

--_George P. Morris._

The author of _The Flag of our Union_ was one of the most distinguished journalists of the early half of the nineteenth century in America. He was for many years the editor of the _Mirror_, which was in its time the best literary magazine in the country. Such men as William Cullen Bryant, Fitz-Green Halleck, Nathaniel P. Willis, Theodore S. Fay, and Epes Sargent found in its pages a chance to express the poetry, romance, and philosophy which flowed from their brilliant and graceful pens.

Morris was the author of many songs and poems that have become household words throughout the land. Who does not recall,--

"Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot: There, woodman, let it stand, Thy ax shall harm it not!"

And these other lines from _My Mother's Bible_, equally well known,--

"This book is all that's left me now:-- Tears will unbidden start-- With faltering lip and throbbing brow, I press it to my heart. For many generations past Here is our family tree: My mother's hand this Bible clasped; She, dying, gave it me."

And what schoolboy of twenty-five years ago does not remember the song of _The Whip-poor-will_, the first verses of which always aroused his sympathetic interest?--

"Why dost thou come at set of sun, Those pensive words to say? Why whip poor Will?--what has he done-- And who is Will, I pray?

"Why come from yon leaf-shaded hill A suppliant at my door?-- Why ask of me to whip poor Will? And is Will really poor?"

Morris had traveled abroad rather widely for that day, but instead of its weaning him from his native land, it made it all the more dear to him. He set this forth in a well-known song entitled, _I'm with You once Again_, which so accurately voices the feelings of thousands of loyal American travelers that it is worth repeating here:--

"I'm with you once again, my friends, No more my footsteps roam; Where it began my journey ends, Amid the scenes of home. No other clime has skies so blue, Or streams so broad and clear, And where are hearts so warm and true As those that meet me here?

"Since last, with spirits wild and free, I pressed my native strand, I've wandered many miles at sea, And many miles on land; I've seen fair realms of the earth, By rude commotion torn, Which taught me how to prize the worth Of that where I was born.

"In other countries when I heard The language of my own, How fondly each familiar word Awoke an answering tone! But when our woodland songs were sung Upon a foreign mart, The vows that faltered on the tongue With rapture thrilled the heart.

"My native land! I turn to you With blessing and with prayer, Where man is brave, and woman true And free as mountain air. Long may our flag in triumph wave, Against the world combined, And friends a welcome--foes a grave, Within our borders find."

In this song we see the spirit in which was written _The Flag of our Union_. Ten years before the War of the Rebellion, when the mutterings of the coming storm were already in the air, this poet and traveler, who had found his country's flag such an inspiration when roving in foreign lands, poured out his heart in this hymn to the Flag. It was set to music by William Vincent Wallace, and was very popular in war times. It is worthy of popularity so long as the Flag of the Union shall wave.

_JOHN BROWN'S BODY._

John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave! John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave! John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave! His soul is marching on. Glory, glory hallelujah! Glory, glory hallelujah! Glory, glory hallelujah! His soul is marching on.

The stars of heaven are looking kindly down! The stars of heaven are looking kindly down! The stars of heaven are looking kindly down! On the grave of old John Brown!

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord! He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord! He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord! His soul is marching on.

John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back! John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back! John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back! His soul is marching on.

--_Charles S. Hall._

No prophet is ever able to foretell what will catch the popular ear. The original John Brown song, written by Miss Edna Dean Proctor, is certainly far more coherent and intelligible than the lines which have formed the marching song for over a million men, and have held their own through a generation. It is well worth repeating here:--

"John Brown died on the scaffold for the slave; Dark was the hour when we dug his hallowed grave; Now God avenges the life he gladly gave, Freedom reigns to-day! Glory, glory hallelujah, Glory, glory hallelujah, Glory, glory hallelujah. Freedom reigns to-day!

"John Brown sowed and the harvesters are we; Honor to him who has made the bondsman free; Loved evermore shall our noble ruler be, Freedom reigns to-day!

"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave; Bright o'er the sod let the starry banner wave; Lo! for the million he periled all to save, Freedom reigns to-day!

"John Brown's soul through the world is marching on; Hail to the hour when oppression shall be gone; All men will sing in the better day's dawn, Freedom reigns to-day!

"John Brown dwells where the battle's strife is o'er; Hate cannot harm him, nor sorrow stir him more; Earth will remember the martyrdom he bore, Freedom reigns to-day!

"John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave; John Brown lives in the triumph of the brave; John Brown's soul not a higher joy can crave, Freedom reigns to-day!"

The more popular, if not more worthy, song of John Brown's Body seems to have been of Massachusetts origin at the commencement of the Civil War. It was first sung in 1861. When the Massachusetts Volunteers, commanded by Colonel Fletcher Webster, a son of the famous Daniel Webster, were camped on one of the islands in Boston Harbor, some of the soldiers amused themselves by adapting the words,--

"John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, His soul is marching on. Glory, glory hallelujah, His soul is marching on,"

to a certain air. Mr. Charles Sprague Hall, who is the author of the lines as finally sung, says that when the soldiers first began to sing it the first verse was the only one known. He wrote the other verses, but did not know where the first one came from.

The way was opened for this song through a campaign song heard from the lips of the Douglas, and the Bell, and the Everett Campaign Clubs, who, in order to spite Governor John A. Andrew, the famous war governor of Massachusetts, sang the following lines as they were marching through the streets of Boston, with their torches in hand,--

"Tell John Andrew, Tell John Andrew, Tell John Andrew John Brown's dead. Salt won't save him, John Brown's dead."

These lines are supposed to have been an imitation of the doggerel,--

"Tell Aunt Rhody, Tell Aunt Rhody, Tell Aunt Rhody The old goose is dead. Salt won't save him, The old goose is dead."

Great stress having been laid by the opponents of Governor Andrew upon the fact that John Brown was dead, the authors of the song spoken of took good care to assert that, while

"John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, His soul is marching on."

This was the answer of those that sympathized with John Brown, a song which they flung at those who seemed to take delight in the fact that he was dead.

Thane Miller, of Cincinnati, heard the melody, which is perhaps the most popular martial melody in America, in a colored Presbyterian church in Charleston, South Carolina, about 1859, and soon after introduced it at a convention of the Young Men's Christian Association in Albany, New York, with the words,--

"Say, brothers will you meet us, Say, brothers will you meet us, Say, brothers will you meet us, On Canaan's happy shore? By the grace of God we'll meet you, By the grace of God we'll meet you, By the grace of God we'll meet you, Where parting is no more."

Professor James E. Greenleaf, organist of the Harvard Church in Charlestown, found the music in the archives of that church, and fitted it to the first stanza of the present song. It has since been claimed that the Millerites, in 1843, used the same tune to a hymn, one verse of which is as follows,--

"We'll see the angels coming Through the old churchyards, Shouting through the air Glory, glory hallelujah!"

Whatever may have been the origin of the melody, when fitted by Greenleaf to the first stanza of _John Brown's Body_, it became so great a favorite with the Glee Club of the Boston Light Infantry that they asked Mr. Hall to write the additional stanzas.

As has been the case with popular tunes in every age, verses have been often added to it to meet the occasion. While the words are not of a classical order, the air is of that popular kind which strikes the heart of the average man. During the Civil War it served to cheer and inspire the Union soldiers in their camps and on the march, and was sung at home at every popular gathering in town or country. It seemed to be just what the soldiers needed at the time, and served its purpose far better than would choicer words or more artistic music. No song during all the war fired the popular heart as did _John Brown's Body_. It crossed the sea and became the popular street song in London. The _Pall Mall Gazette_ of October 14, 1865, said: "The street boys of London have decided in favor of _John Brown's Body_, against _My Maryland_, and _The Bonnie Blue Flag_. The somewhat lugubrious refrain has excited their admiration to a wonderful degree, and threatens to extinguish that hard-worked, exquisite effort of modern minstrelsy, _Slap Bang_."

After the original song had gained world-wide notoriety, the following words were written by Henry Howard Brownell, who died at Hartford, Connecticut, October 31, 1872, aged fifty-two. Mr. Brownell entitled his poem, "Words that can be sung to the _Hallelujah Chorus_," and says: "If people will sing about Old John Brown, there is no reason why they shouldn't have words with a little meaning and rhythm in them."

"Old John Brown lies a-mouldering in the grave, Old John Brown lies slumbering in his grave-- But John Brown's soul is marching with the brave, His soul is marching on. Glory, glory hallelujah! Glory, glory hallelujah! Glory, glory hallelujah! His soul is marching on.

"He has gone to be a soldier in the Army of the Lord, He is sworn as a private in the ranks of the Lord-- He shall stand at Armageddon, with his brave old sword, When Heaven is marching on.

"He shall file in front where the lines of battle form-- He shall face the front where the squares of battle form-- Time with the column and charge with the storm, Where men are marching on.

"Ah, foul tyrants! do you hear him where he comes? Ah, black traitors! do you know him as he comes? In thunder of the cannon and roll of the drums, As we go marching on.

"Men may die, and moulder in the dust-- Men may die, and arise again from dust, Shoulder to shoulder, in the ranks of the just, When Heaven is marching on."

But Mr. Brownell has shared the same fate with Miss Proctor, and his song and hers are only curiosities to-day, which show how arbitrary the popular will is when once the heart or the imagination is really captured. Mr. Richard Henry Dana, Jr., writing to Mr. James T. Fields, the famous Boston litterateur, said: "It would have been past belief had we been told that the almost undistinguishable name of John Brown should be whispered among four millions of slaves, and sung wherever the English language is spoken, and incorporated into an anthem to whose solemn cadences men should march to battle by the tens of thousands."

_DIXIE._

I wish I was in de land ob cotton, Old times dar am not forgotten, Look away! Look away! Look away! In Dixie Land where I was born in, Early on a frosty mornin', Look away! Look away! Look away! Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray! In Dixie Land, I'll take my stand, To lib and die in Dixie, Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie.