The music that inspires
soldiers during war is not confined to the shrill
fife, the rattling drum and thrilling bugle.
While many a soldier on the weary march, almost
ready to drop from exhaustion, has been cheered and
enthused by drum and bugle, yet the old patriotic
war songs sung in camp and on the march served as a
tonic that buoyed the soldier up to new effort when
overcome by hunger and fatigue.
Some writer has said, "Let me write the songs of a
nation and I care not who makes the laws." In
times of war it is remarkable what an influence
music has upon the soldiers. The Russians
chant their hymns as they are led to battle, as did
the Boers in the recent war with England. The
French army marches to battle singing the
Marseillaise hymn. The German sings "The Watch on
the Rhine," while the Englishman is wild with
enthusiasm when he hears "God Save the Queen."
The soldiers of the Union army during the Civil War
were cheered when in camp, on the march, and on the
battle line by many war songs which still touch a
chord in the memory of every soldier and patriotic
citizen.
In the great crises of a nation, men seem to be born
for any emergency ; not only great generals are
produced to lead the armies in case of war, but men
great in oratory, literature and poetry come from
all the walks of life. So it was when the
Civil War began. Generals, orators, men of literary
genius and poets were ready to take their places as
actors in the great drama of the sanguinary struggle
to follow.
In the beginning we had few patriotic or war songs that
appealed to our people both old and young.
Following the attempt of John Brown to arouse the
whole nation by inciting an uprising of the slaves
at Harper's Ferry, Virginia, came the song echoing
all over the Northland, "John Brown's Body Lies
Mouldering in the Grave, and His Soul Is Marching
On." The melody of this old song had the right
rhythm and swing for marching, and it was sung by
the soldiers more than any other song during the
war. How well the thrill of these old songs is
remembered by the veterans of the war, and the
wives, the sisters, and any of the
fathers or mothers who may yet survive.
The smoke had scarcely risen from the battered walls of
Fort Sumter when all over the land was heard "Hail
Columbia," "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," "The Red,
White and Blue," and "The Star-Spangled Banner."
"Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light.
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last
gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the
perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly
streaming;
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in
air.
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still
there."
The rattle of the war drums
and the sharp ringing notes of the bugle were heard
in every village, hamlet and city, and the boys were
marching away gaily with measured
step to the wild music.
Then came "Rally 'Round the Flag" ringing from every
hilltop and through every valley in the North.
It was written by eGorge F. Root and sung by
every man, woman and child as their fathers,
husbands, brothers and sweethearts marched away.
"Yes, we'll rally 'round the flag,
boys,
We'll rally once again.
Shouting the battle cry of freedom."
I remember most vividly
the first time I heard that inspiring song. I had
been taken prisoner and was on parole at Camp Chase
in the autumn of 1862. Happening in
the city of Columbus one evening, I was attracted to
the old Buckeye Hotel, located where the Chamber of
Commerce now stands, by sounds of merry making in
that historic old hostelry. There I found a
number of my young friends celebrating in their new
uniforms, as a number of them had just been promoted
to lieutenancies in their several
regiments. They were singing "Rally 'Round the
Flag"
with great enthusiasm and it was very inspiring.
I joined in the chorus and we marched out Broad
Street to High, and down High to Town and back
again, singing as we
marched, followed by a great crowd—even the
policemen, who always looked askance at soldiers
making a noise on the streets, joined in the march
and shouts of applause.
When the call was issued by President Lincoln for
300,000 men, there came another song, so
appropriate, written by J. S. Adams:
"We are coming, Father Abr'am, three hundred
thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New
England's shore;
We leave our plow and workshops, our wives and
children dear.
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a
silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before,
We are coming. Father Abra'am, three hundred
thousand more."
Three hundred thousand
more were singing "Tenting To-night," written by
Walter Kittridge, a New England soldier.
"Many are the hearts that are weary tonight
Wishing for the war to cease,
Many are the hearts, looking for the right
To see the dawn of peace.
Tenting tonight, tenting tonight,
Tenting on the old camp ground."
While the carnage of war was still raging, there
came
that pathetic, home-sick song by George F. Root,
sung by
the boys around the campfires on the eve of battle,
when
the lines were forming:
"Just before the battle. Mother,
I am thinking most of you,
While upon the field we're watching.
With the enemy in view.
Comrades brave around me lying.
Filled with thot's of home and God;
For well they know that on the morrow,
Some will sleep beneath the sod."
The battle had ended and
many of the boys had fallen in the wild charge.
Those who survived wrote to the dear ones in the
Northland the sad tidings of suffering and death,
and then could be heard softly and sweetly wafted
through the waving pines
:
"Do they miss me at home, do they miss me,
'Twould be an assurance most dear
To know at this moment some loved one
Were saying, I wish he were here;
To feel that the group at the fire-side,
Were thinking of me as I roam,
Oh, yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure
To know that they miss me at home."
When the sad news came
from the boys on the battle lines, then could be
heard in the homes the pathetic answer:
"We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him.
While we breathe our evening prayer.
When a year ago we gathered
Joy was in his mild blue eye,
But a golden cord is severed
And our hopes in ruin lie."
The most inspiring poem
of the war was "The Battle Hymn of the Republic,"
written by Julia Ward Howe. It is related that
she spent an evening in the camps along the Potomac
River; returning to her home, she awakened before
daybreak and, in the dawn, wrote that wonderful poem
in an hour.
During the great battle summer of 1864, when the Army
of the Potomac under Grant was fighting through the
Wilderness, and Sherman's Army was driving the
Confederates through the mountain passes and across
the rivers of Northern Georgia, there came from the
prison pens that song of hope and confidence:
"Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,
Cheer up comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag,
We will breathe the air again
Of the freeland in our beloved home."
There were many other
war songs, among which may be named "Brave Battery
Boys," "Kingdom Coming," "When Johnny Comes Marching
Home," and a few other pathetic songs. |
