Part 4

Old Missus marry "Will-de-weaber," Willium was a gay deceaber; Look away! Look away! Look away! But when he put his arm around 'er, He smiled as fierce as a forty pounder, Look away! Look away! Look away!

His face was as sharp as a butcher's cleaber, But dat did not seem to greab 'er; Look away! Look away! Look away! Old Missus acted de foolish part, And died for a man dat broke her heart. Look away! Look away! Look away!

Now here's a health to de next old Missus, And all de gals dat want to kiss us; Look away! Look away! Look away! But if you want to drive 'way sorrow, Come and hear dis song tomorrow, Look away! Look away! Look away!

Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Injen batter, Makes you fat or a little fatter; Look away! Look away! Look away! Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble, To Dixie's Land I'm bound to trabble, Look away! Look away! Look away!

--_Dan Emmett._

Dan Emmett, who wrote the original _Dixie_, which has been paraphrased and changed and adapted nearly as frequently as _Yankee Doodle_ was born at Mount Vernon, Ohio, in 1815. He came from a family all of whose members had a local reputation, still traditional in that part of the country, as musicians. In his own case this talent, if given a fair chance for development, would have amounted to genius. He began life as a printer, but soon abandoned his trade to join the band of musicians connected with a circus company. He was not long in discovering that he could compose songs of the kind in use by clowns; one of the most popular of these was _Old Dan Tucker_. Its success was so great that Emmett followed it with many others. They were all negro melodies, and many of them won great popularity. Finally he took to negro impersonations, singing his own songs in the ring, while he accompanied himself on the banjo. He made a specialty of old men, and he declares with pride that when he had blackened his face, and donned his wig of kinky white hair, he was "the best old negro that ever lived." He became such a favorite with the patrons of the circus in the South and West, that at last--partly by chance, and partly through intention--he became a full-fledged actor. This was in 1842, at the old Chatham Theater in New York City, when with two companions he gave a mixed performance, made up largely of songs and dances typical of slave life and character. The little troupe was billed as "The Virginia Minstrels," and their popularity with the public was instantaneous.

This was the beginning of negro minstrelsy, which was destined to have such a wide popularity in America. From New York the pioneer company went to Boston, and later on sailed for England, leaving the newly-discovered field to the host of imitators who were rapidly dividing their success with them. Emmett had great success in the British Isles, and remained abroad for several years. When he returned to New York, he joined the Dan Bryant Minstrel Company, which then held sway in Bryant's Theater on lower Broadway, which was at that time one of the most popular resorts in New York City. Emmett was engaged to write songs and walk-arounds and take part in the nightly performances. It was while he was with Bryant that _Dixie_ was composed.

Emmett is still living and resides at Mount Vernon, Ohio, where he hopes to end his days. The old man is a picturesque figure on the streets. In his prime he was one of the mid-century dandies of New York City, but now, with calm indifference to the conventional, he usually carries a long staff and wears his coat fastened in at the waist by a bit of rope. His home is a little cottage on the edge of town, where he lives entirely alone. On almost any warm afternoon he can be found seated before his door reading, but he is ready enough to talk with the chance visitor whose curiosity to meet the composer of one of the National Songs of America, has brought him thither. A newspaper man who recently went to talk with the old minstrel found him seated in the shade by his house with a book open before him. As he went up the path, he said, for he had some doubt in his own mind,--

"Are you Dan Emmett, who wrote _Dixie_?"

"Well, I have heard of the fellow; sit down," and Emmett motioned to the steps.

"Won't you tell me how the song was written?"

"Like most everything else I ever did," said Emmett, "it was written because it had to be done. One Saturday night, in 1859, as I was leaving Bryant's Theater, where I was playing, Bryant called after me, 'I want a walk-'round for Monday, Dan.'

"The next day it rained and I stayed indoors. At first when I went at the song I couldn't get anything. But a line,

'I wish I was in Dixie,'

kept repeating itself in my mind, and I finally took it for my start. The rest wasn't long in coming. And that's the story of how _Dixie_ was written.

"It made a hit at once, and before the end of the week everybody in New York was whistling it. Then the South took it up and claimed it for its own. I sold the copyright for five hundred dollars, which was all I ever made from it. I'll show you my first copy."

He went into the house and returned in a moment with a yellow, worn-looking manuscript in his hand.

"That's _Dixie_," he said, holding it up for inspection. "I am going to give it to some historical society in the South, one of these days, for though I was born here in Ohio, I count myself a Southerner, as my father was a Virginian."

_Dixie Land_ was without question the most famous of all the Southern war songs. But it was the tune, as in the case of _Yankee Doodle_, and not the words that gave it its great power to fire the heart. It is claimed that Emmett appropriated the tune from an old negro air, which is quite probable.

The only poem set to the famous air of _Dixie_ which has any literary merit is one that was written by General Albert Pike. Some one has said that it is worthy of notice that the finest Puritan lyric we have was written by an Englishwoman, Mrs. Felicia Hemans, and the most popular Southern war song was written by a Yankee, a native of Massachusetts. Albert Pike was born in Boston, December 29, 1809, but most of his boyhood was spent in Newburyport. He became a teacher, but in 1831 visited what was then the wild region of the Southwest with a party of trappers. He afterward edited a paper at Little Rock, and studied law. He served in the Mexican War with distinction, and on the breaking out of the Rebellion enlisted, on the Confederate side, a force of Cherokee Indians, whom he led at the battle of Pea Ridge. After the war he edited the Memphis _Appeal_ till 1868, when he settled in Washington as a lawyer. He has written a number of fine poems, and retired from the profession of law in 1880, to devote himself to literature and Freemasonry. Mr. Pike's version of Dixie is as follows,--

"Southrons, hear your Country call you! Up, lest worse than death befall you! To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie!

Lo! all the beacon fires are lighted-- Let all hearts be now united! To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah! Hurrah! For Dixie's land we take our stand, And live or die for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie!

"Hear the Northern thunders mutter! Northern flags in South winds flutter! To arms! Send them back your fierce defiance! Stamp upon the accursed alliance! To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"Fear no danger! Shun no labor! Lift up rifle, pike, and sabre! To arms! Shoulder pressing close to shoulder, Let the odds make each heart bolder! To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"How the South's great heart rejoices, At your cannons' ringing voices! To arms!

For faith betrayed, and pledges broken, Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken, To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! To arms! Cut the unequal bonds asunder! Let them hence each other plunder! To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"Swear upon your country's altar Never to submit or falter! To arms! Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed. To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"Halt not till our Federation Secures from earth's powers its station! To arms! Then at peace, and crowned with glory, Hear your children tell the story! To arms! Advance the flag of Dixie!

"If the loved ones weep in sadness, Victory soon will bring them gladness. To arms!

Exultant pride soon vanish sorrow; Smiles chase tears away tomorrow. To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah! Hurrah! For Dixie's land we take our stand, And live or die for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie!"

Since the war _Dixie_ has been as favorite a tune with bands of music throughout the North as has _Yankee Doodle_. Abraham Lincoln set the example for this. A war correspondent recalls an incident which occurred only a night or two before Mr. Lincoln was assassinated. The President had returned from Richmond, and a crowd called with a band to tender congratulations and a serenade. The great man who was so soon to be the victim of the assassin's bullet appeared in response to calls and thanked his audience for the compliment. Several members of his Cabinet surrounded him, and it was a very interesting and dramatic occasion. Just as he was closing his brief remarks, Mr. Lincoln said: "I see you have a band with you. I should like to hear it play _Dixie_. I have consulted the Attorney-General, who is here by my side, and he is of the opinion that Dixie belongs to us. Now play it." The band struck up the old tune, and played it heartily. As the strains of the music rang out upon the air, cheer after cheer went up from the throats of the hundreds of happy men who had called to congratulate Mr. Lincoln upon the return of peace. It was that great soul's olive branch which he held out to the South.

_THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM._

Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom, We'll rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom! The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star, While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!

We are springing to the call of our brothers gone before, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom; And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a million freemen more, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!

We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true, and brave, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom; And although they may be poor, not a man shall be a slave, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!

So we're springing to the call from the East and from the West, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom; And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!

--_George F. Root._

This inspiring rallying song was written by George F. Root, to whom we are indebted for so many songs of camp and field. Mr. Root also composed the music. Perhaps no hymn of battle in America has been sung under so many interesting circumstances as this. It was written in 1861, on President Lincoln's second call for troops, and was first sung at a popular meeting in Chicago and next at a great mass meeting in Union Square, New York, where those famous singers, the Hutchinson Family, sounded it forth like a trump of jubilee to the ears of thousands of loyal listeners.

It was always a great favorite with the soldiers. Dr. Jesse Bowman Young, of St. Louis, the author of _What a Boy Saw in the Army_, relates a very affecting and pathetic incident which occurred while a portion of the Army of the Potomac was marching across Maryland. A young officer and his company were in the lead, and just behind them came one of the regimental bands, while ahead of them rode General Humphreys and his staff. As the division marched along, they passed by a country schoolhouse in a little grove at a crossroad. The teacher, hearing the music of the band at a distance, and expecting the arrival of the troops, had dismissed the school to give them a sight of the soldiers. Before the troops came in sight the boys and girls had gathered bunches of wild flowers, platted garlands of leaves, and secured several tiny flags, and as General Humphreys rode up in front of the schoolhouse, a little girl came forth and presented him with a bouquet, which he acknowledged with gracious courtesy. Then the group of assembled pupils began to sing, as they waved their flags and garlands in the air. That song made a tumult in every soldier's heart. Many strong men wept as they looked on the scene and thought of their own loved ones far away in their Northern homes, and were inspired with newborn courage and patriotism by the sight and the song. This is the chorus which rang forth that day from the country schoolhouse, and which soon afterward echoed through the battle in many a soldier's ear and heart, miles away, on the bloody field of Gettysburg:--

"The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star, While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!"

The first company that passed responded to their captain with a will as he shouted, "Boys, give them three cheers and a tiger!" and the example was imitated by the regiments that followed; so that amid the singing of the children and the cheers of the soldiers, and the beating of the drums, the occasion was made memorable to all concerned.

Richard Wentworth Browne relates that a day or two after Lee's surrender in April, 1865, he visited Richmond, in company with some other Union officers. After a day of sight-seeing, the party adjourned to Mr. Browne's rooms for dinner. After dinner one of the officers who played well opened the piano, saying, "Boys, we have our old quartette here, let's have a song." As the house opposite was occupied by paroled Confederate officers, no patriotic songs were sung. Soon the lady of the house handed Mr. Browne this note: "Compliments of General ---- and staff. Will the gentlemen kindly allow us to come over and hear them sing?" Consent was readily given and they came. As the General entered the room, the Union officers recognized instantly the face and figure of an officer who had stood very high in the Confederacy. After introductions, and the usual interchange of civilities, the quartette sang for them glees and college songs, until at last the General said, "Excuse me, gentlemen, you sing delightfully, but what we want to hear is your army songs." Then they gave them the army songs with unction: _The Battle Hymn of the Republic_; _John Brown's Body_; _We're coming, Father Abraham_; _Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching_; and so on through the whole catalogue to the _Star-Spangled Banner_,--to which the Confederate feet beat time as if they had never stepped to any but the music of the Union,--and closed their concert with Root's inspiring _Battle Cry of Freedom_.

When the applause had subsided, a tall, fine-looking young fellow in a major's uniform exclaimed, "Gentlemen, if we'd had your songs we'd have licked you out of your boots! Who couldn't have marched or fought with such songs? while we had nothing, absolutely nothing, except a bastard Marseillaise, _The Bonny Blue Flag_, and _Dixie_, which were nothing but jigs. _Maryland, my Maryland_ was a splendid song, but the tune, old _Lauriger Horatius_, was about as inspiring as the Dead March in _Saul_, while every one of these Yankee songs is full of marching and fighting spirit."

Then turning to the General he said, "I shall never forget the first time I heard that chorus, 'Rally round the Flag.' It was a nasty night during the Seven Days' fight, and if I remember rightly, it was raining. I was on picket, when just before 'taps' some fellow on the other side struck up _The Battle Cry of Freedom_ and others joined in the chorus until it seemed to me that the whole Yankee army was singing. A comrade who was with me sang out, 'Good heavens, Cap, what are those fellows made of, anyway? Here we've licked them six days running, and now, on the eve of the seventh, they're singing "Rally round the Flag?"' I am not naturally superstitious, but I tell you that song sounded to me like the knell of doom; my heart went down into my boots; and though I've tried to do my duty, it has been an uphill fight with me ever since that night."

Perhaps the most romantic and inspiring occasion on which _The Battle Cry of Freedom_ was ever sung was at the raising of the flag over Fort Sumter on the 14th of April, 1865, that being the fourth anniversary of the day when Major Anderson had evacuated the fort after his brave defense. A large number of citizens went from New York in excursion steamers, to assist in the celebration. Colonel Stewart L. Woodford, recently the United States minister to Spain, was master of ceremonies. The oration was delivered by the eloquent Henry Ward Beecher, but the supreme moment of interest came when Major-General Anderson, who had added General to the Major in the past four years, after a touching and tender address, received from Sergeant Hart a bag containing the precious old flag which had waved in the breeze through those days of fierce bombardment, the din of which had been heard around the world. The flag had been saved for such a time as this, and now, by order of Abraham Lincoln, it was brought back to wave again over Fort Sumter. It was attached to the halyards, and General Anderson hoisted it to the head of the flagstaff amid loud huzzas. One can imagine the inspiration of the occasion, as William B. Bradbury led the singing of _The Battle Cry of Freedom_. How the tears ran down the cheeks, and hearts overflowed with thanksgiving as they shouted the chorus underneath the folds of the very flag that had received the first baptism of fire at the beginning of the Rebellion:--

"The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star, While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom!"

_SONG OF A THOUSAND YEARS._

Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen! Fling to the winds your needless fears! He who unfurl'd your beauteous banner, Says it shall wave a thousand years! "A thousand years!" my own Columbia, 'Tis the glad day so long foretold! 'Tis the glad morn whose early twilight, Washington saw in times of old.

What if the clouds, one little moment, Hide the blue sky where morn appears-- When the bright sun, that tints them crimson, Rises to shine a thousand years?

Tell the great world these blessed tidings! Yes, and be sure the bondman hears; Tell the oppressed of every nation, Jubilee lasts a thousand years!

Envious foes, beyond the ocean! Little we heed your threat'ning sneers; Little will they--our children's children-- When you are gone a thousand years.

Rebels at home! go hide your faces-- Weep for your crimes with bitter tears; You could not bind the blessed daylight, Though you should strive a thousand years.

Back to your dens, ye secret traitors! Down to your own degraded spheres! Ere the first blaze of dazzling sunshine, Shortens your lives a thousand years.

Haste thee along, thou glorious noonday! Oh, for the eyes of ancient seers! Oh, for the faith of him who reckons Each of his days a thousand years!

--_Henry Clay Work._

Henry Clay Work was born in Middletown, Connecticut, October 1, 1832. The family came originally from Scotland, and the name is thought to have come from a castle, "Auld Wark, upon the Tweed," famed in the border wars in the times made immortal by Sir Walter Scott. He inherited his love of liberty and hatred of slavery from his father, who suffered much for conscience' sake. While quite young, his family moved to Illinois, near Quincy, and he passed his boyhood in the most abject poverty, his father having been taken from home and imprisoned because of his strong anti-slavery views and active work in the struggles of those enthusiastic and devoted reformers. In 1845, Henry's father was pardoned on condition that he would leave the State of Illinois. The family then returned to Connecticut. After a few months' attendance at school in Middletown, our future song writer was apprenticed to Elisha Geer, of Hartford, to learn the printer's trade. He learned to write over the printer's case in much the same way as did Benjamin Franklin. He never had any music lessons except a short term of instruction in a church singing school. The poetic temperament, and his musical gifts as well, were his inheritance. He began writing very early, and many of his unambitious little poems found their way into the newspapers during his apprenticeship.

Work's first song was written in Hartford and entitled, _We're coming, Sister Mary_. He sold this song to George Christie, of Christie's minstrels, and it made a decided hit. In 1855 he removed to Chicago, where he continued his trade as a printer. The following year he married Miss Sarah Parker, of Hubbardston, Massachusetts, and settled at Hyde Park. In 1860 he wrote _Lost on the "Lady Elgin,"_ a song commemorating the terrible disaster to a Lake Michigan steamer, which became widely known.

_Kingdom Coming_ was Work's first war song, and was written in 1861. Now that it has been so successful, it seems strange that he should have had trouble to find a publisher for it; yet such was the case. But its success was immediate as soon as published. It is perhaps the most popular of all the darkey songs which deal directly with the question of the freedom of the slaves. It set the whole world laughing, but there was about it a vein of political wisdom as well as of poetic justice that commended it to strong men. The music is full of life and is as popular as the words. It became the song of the newsboys of the home towns and cities as well as of the soldiers in the camp and on the march. It portrays the practical situation on the Southern plantation as perhaps no other poem brought out by the war:--

"Say, darkies, hab you seen de massa, Wid de muffstash on his face, Go long de road some time dis mornin', Like he gwine to leab de place? He seen a smoke way up de ribber, Whar de Linkum gunboats lay; He took his hat, an' lef' bery sudden, An' I spec he's run away! De massa run? ha, ha! De darkey stay? ho, ho! It mus' be now de kingdom comin', And de year ob jubilo!