“Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory” – Why the Battle Hymn of the Republic Still Matters
You probably remember that I promised you five shows during our Julia Ward Howe/Battle Hymn of the Republic week. The fifth show was going to be me talking about the Battle Hymn and the many ways it’s endured into the 21st century. I was going to give you examples of how it’s been used in all sorts of ways, from political movements to childhood parodies to crowd songs in English football stadiums. And I was going to end the show with a rousing call to go out and vote, with the same kind of vigor and passion that Julia Ward Howe urged Americans to “die to make men free,” in the way that Christ had “died to make men holy.”
But a major chest infection hit me in the week before the election, and I was down for the count. No matter how hard I tried, every time I recorded something, my voice sounded awful and I couldn’t have inspired anyone to do anything. And then, of course, the election was held, and we all know what happened. I don’t know if there’s anyone in the United States who was more shocked than I was. And, of course, the effect that the election’s result might have on what shows I’m putting out on this pokey podcast is nothing compared to the baleful, and quite possibly permanent, effects it’s going to have on the United States.
My first reaction to the election, as you might imagine, was to scrap the idea of a “summation and inspiration” show about the Battle Hymn, and maybe even to stop doing the podcast completely, given that my heart might not be in it, knowing what awful things might well happen in the next decade or so. Somewhat similarly, Heather Cox Richardson did not respond to the election the very next day in her Letters from an American. Like the intelligent, level-headed, and even-tempered person we all know her to be, she has written sensibly and sensitively about what has happened, and has now begun to talk about what we, as Americans, should do. I want particularly to point you to an interview she did with Jon Stewart recently.
It was the best explanation I’ve heard about what happened and what we should do in the election’s aftermath. Since she is the most consequential intellectual in the United States right now, I decided to follow her example, and bring back the idea of a “summation and inspiration” show, using the Battle Hymn as my framing device.
This, then, is that show. I want to go over some of the history of the Battle Hymn that we didn’t cover in the previous shows during Julia Ward Howe week, and I want to show its central place in American history, as Professor Stauffer told us in his interview. Apart from when I try to lighten things up by talking about the childhood parodies and the soccer crowd versions, I’d like to emphasize the “Republic” part of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” and how important a republic is for human freedom and human dignity, especially in comparison to an autocracy, or some sort of totalitarianism, the possibility of which the majority of Americans seem to have been willing to accept when they voted for Trump. So, here goes.
You remember that Professor Stauffer talked about the Battle Hymn being used as a “Progressive Battle Hymn,” during Teddy Roosevelt’s time. Roosevelt and the Progressive Movement were trying to tear down an oligarchy that was growing in the United States, an oligarchy of big businessmen and bankers made uber-rich by the second industrial revolution of the late 19th century, and using that wealth to influence and eventually dominate politics, pushing it in their own direction and at the same time pushing everyone else out of the realm of political discussion, voting, and decision making.
We didn’t have time to talk much about the lyrics of the many songs that came out as Progressive Battle Hymns, and I couldn’t find any actual recordings, but I’ve put a link to a collection of them at the Teddy Roosevelt Center at Dickinson State University. Scroll through them if you can, and you’ll see the wide range of issues that progressivism at that time tried to address.
https://www.theodorerooseveltcenter.org/Research/Digital-Library/Record?libID=o283063
Perhaps more popular, or more widely sung in groups, was the famous version of the Battle Hymn written and sung by workers during the first stages of protest for workers’ rights that became so obviously needed as the second Industrial Revolution created an economy based on very large factories with very large labor forces that could, more or less, be forced to work very long hours for very little pay. There were no worker protections. And so the modern industrial unionization movement started. And one of the things that movement needed so desperately in the beginning was to tell people that the only solution was workers gathering together and pressing for change. That was, in essence, saying that the industrial economy couldn’t work like an oligarchy of Andrew Carnegie, Cornelius Vanderbilt, and a handful of others. And that’s exactly what a republic does, or is supposed to do – create an organizational system for political governing and even economic management that is based on everyone being equal before the law, and everyone’s voice being taken into account, whether on the factory floor or the floor of Congress.
Using the Battle Hymn tune, “Solidarity Forever” was written in 1915 by Ralph Chaplin, a union worker and organizer who had helped striking coal miners in West Virginia a few years earlier. “Solidarity Forever” swept through the union world, and almost immediately became sung commonly by striking workers or those wanting to form a union. It became so common for working groups to sing it that it eventually became an important song in the growth of the folk song movement that started in the 1930s during the Depression and lasted well into 1960s and early 1970s.
And here’s Pete Singer performing it in the 1960s. He more or less performed it throughout his career, well into the 1970s. I’ll play one chorus and the new verse that Seeger added for the age of atomic weapons and atomic war.
In the 1970s, women’s movements, particularly women’s industrial union movements, added feminist lyrics to Solidarity Forever. I couldn’t find good audio for this version, but a key verse says:
We’re the women of the union and we sure know how to fight.
We’ll fight for women’s issues
and we’ll fight for women’s rights.
A woman’s work is never done from morning until night.
Women make the union strong!
The union movement in the United States never became solidified, however, even when trying to fight for the best interests of workers. After all, the Teamsters Union (one of the biggest in the United States) did not endorse a candidate for the 2024 election, which was very surprising, even though the biggest American union, the AFL-CIO has expressed deep disappointment and even fear of the upcoming Trump administration. So the solidarity part of “Solidarity Forever” remains an aspiration.
But let me return to the 1960s. The Battle Hymn of the Republic was played at two very important funerals in the 1960s. I was surprised to find that it was not played at President Kennedy’s funeral in 1963. And across the pond, some British people were surprised that it was played at Churchill’s funeral in 1965. But those in Britain who were in the know, weren’t surprised. After all, Churchill’s mother was American, he was always extremely interested in the United States, and, of course, he considered the United States an equal partner not only on the Allied side in World War II, but also as a partner in a potential future Anglo-American alliance during and after the Cold War.
More relevant to our purposes, the American Civil War section of Churchill’s famous History of the English-Speaking Peoples referred to the importance of the Battle Hymn in helping make the public perception of that war turn from just saving the Union to a war for the abolition of slavery in the United States. Churchill told his family and those who would be planning his funeral that he wanted The Battle Hymn of the Republic prominent in the order of the funeral service. And those who attended his funeral were well aware of Churchill’s admiration of America and so they understood why they were being asked to sing it at his funeral service.
The only recording of The Battle Hymn at Churchill’s funeral is not of the greatest audio quality, but I thought you should hear a clip.
And, as many of you know, the other famous time The Battle Hymn was sung at a funeral was for Robert Kennedy in 1968. Robert Kennedy was shot on June 5th, 1968 while campaigning for the Democratic nomination for President in that year’s election. He died the next day, and the country was deeply shocked at the second Kennedy assassination in five years. His funeral was held at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan on June 8th, and it concluded with prominent American singer, Andy Williams, singing the Battle Hymn. From an historian’s perspective, perhaps the most interesting thing about this performance by Andy Williams is that he sang verse 4 as verse 2, and verse 5 as verse 3. I can find no direct evidence of why this change was made but it was probably because verses 4 and 5 are much less militant and far more Biblical than the original verses 2 and 3, and this may have been the wishes of Ethel Kennedy, RFK’s widow.
So here is Andy Williams singing the Battle Hymn at RFK’s funeral in 1968.
As you can hear, it was incredibly moving, and was eventually released as a single after the funeral.
And now let me lighten the tone somewhat, but still continue with the chronology I’m following. I started going to school in the very late 1960s, and within the first ten or fifteen minutes of arriving there, I learned the famous American children’s song, “The Burning of the School,” sung to the tune of the Battle Hymn. The lyrics vary and have, no-doubt, been modified by subsequent generations of school children. But what I remember is:
My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school
We have tortured all the teachers and we’ve shot the principal
We’re down in his office shooting crap and playing pool
Our truth is marching on.
Glory, glory hallelujah
Teacher hit me with a ruler
I hid behind the door with a loaded .44
And the teacher ain’t a teacher no more.
I also remember an alternative final phrase saying that I met the teacher, “at the bank with a brand-new Sherman tank.” Yikes. For an old pacifist and gun hater like myself, these lyrics seem gruesome, but we belted them out as strongly as we could, whenever we got the chance.
Another fun use of the Battle Hymn comes from soccer fans in Britain and in mainland Europe. You may know that fans of the various football clubs in Europe have been singing team-inspired songs during games, and especially during the long periods of football matches when the action is mainly taking place in the middle of the field and things can get boring. “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” was first used in the 1950s by the Hibernian Football Club based in Edinburgh.
Different takes on the “glory, glory” part of the Battle Hymn have been employed by Leeds United and Tottenham Hotspur since the 1980s. Perhaps the best-known “glory, glory” song chant, however, has been the one that fans of Manchester United have been singing for decades now. Like so many of these football fan songs, they often take phrases and sections from well-known songs, and change the words to celebrate their team. “Glory, Glory Man United” starts off using the Battle Hymn’s melody and “glory, glory” idea, but then switches to another popular melody during the verses. Here’s a sample that refers to “the boys in Red on their way to Wembley,” which is where the final for the English Football Association Championship is played.
That brings us right up to what many people consider the greatest vocal rendition of the Battle Hymn of the Republic, sung by Whitney Houston. Professor Elaine Showalter opened our Julia Ward Howe/Battle Hymn of the Republic week, as you remember, and when we were planning the interview she told me it was her favorite rendition. Whitney Houston sang this at a “Welcome Home Heroes” concert in Norfolk, Virginia on March 31, 1991, for veterans returning from the Gulf War between the United States and its allies against Iraq, after that country’s invasion of Kuwait.
Here’s the link to that performance.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZ06JwpW_mY
You no doubt noticed that she started by saying, “I hope what we feel here tonight will never, ever be lost. I know that tonight is the beginning of a new age of understanding and hope for all of us…” And you don’t need me to tell you that the tragedy of this is that the first Gulf War was followed a decade later by 9/11 and the War in Afghanistan between 2001 and 2021, and which, more or less, included the Second Gulf War (the Iraq War) between 2003 and 2011.
So it was anything but the beginning of a new age of understanding and hope.
But I want to conclude this episode by talking about what I think was the most meaningful use of The Battle Hymn of the Republic, certainly in my lifetime. I have to backtrack a little bit from Whitney Houston in 1991, and take you back to that terrible year, 1968. Specifically, April 3rd, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee. I’m sure a great many of you know the story of Martin Luther King’s last few days, but not many people know about the details about what happened on April 3rd, the night before King was killed. In late March, King and a number of other civil rights leaders had gone to Memphis to help support sanitation workers who were on strike for better pay and working conditions.
There was a civil rights rally scheduled at a church for the evening of April 3rd. But King was sick. He probably had a cold or the flu, with a sore throat and pretty severe exhaustion. So he asked his colleague, Ralph Abernathy, to be the main speaker at the rally. And a rainstorm broke out late in the afternoon, so it looked like the rally turnout would be low anyway. By staying in his hotel room and resting, King would be stronger for the protest marches in the days ahead.
When Ralph Abernathy arrived at the church where the rally was being held, however, it was packed with civil rights workers, sanitation workers who were striking, and many other people, all hoping to be inspired by Dr. King for the work in the days ahead. Abernathy realized that he couldn’t inspire them like King, so he called MLK at the hotel and begged him to come speak, if only briefly. King agreed to come but couldn’t promise to give a full speech.
Well, giving a full speech was exactly what he did. 43 minutes long. Subsequently entitled “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop,” it’s one of the greatest speeches ever, given by perhaps the greatest speaker in American history.
You see, one of the most troubling things going on in Memphis was that the city had placed legal injunctions against protesters marching in support of the striking sanitation workers. That April 3rd night, King spoke out vigorously against the injunctions, mainly because he thought they were unconstitutional and unAmerican. He used this injunction problem to address the fundamental problem at the heart of American life, especially in the South. That problem was that many American elites, especially local and state governments in the South, were ignoring constitutional rights and norms in order to maintain illegal racial discrimination. And so Martin Luther King had one request for all levels of government in the United States.
“All we say to America is, ‘Be true to what you said on paper.’ If I lived in China or even Russia, or any totalitarian country, maybe I could understand some of these illegal injunctions. Maybe I could understand the denial of certain basic First Amendment privileges, because they hadn’t committed themselves to that over there. But somewhere I read of the freedom of assembly. Somewhere I read of the freedom of speech. Somewhere I read of the freedom of press. Somewhere I read that the greatness of America is the right to protest for rights. And so just as I say, we aren’t going to let dogs or water hoses turn us around, we aren’t going to let any injunction turn us around. We are going on.”
There was one more thing that King wanted to get across to his listeners in the audience, to the reporters covering the event, and to everyone who would read about the speech the next day. Throughout his civil rights work, starting back in the 1950s, King’s life had been under threat. And after he came out against the war in Vietnam a year earlier, at a speech at Riverside Church in New York, on April 4th, 1967, the threats became much more serious and frightening. It had gotten so bad that he had told his wife and his closest advisors that he expected to be attacked, probably fatally, before the end of the year. Most of his followers had long feared this, but King decided to address it directly at the end of his “Mountaintop” speech. And it’s here, at the very end, as he was turning way from the podium to take his seat, that he invoked “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.
And I don’t mind.
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!
And so I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man!
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!”
If you watch the whole video of this speech (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmZvkHpX_Q4&t=2274s), you’ll see that Dr. King almost has to be helped to his seat by Abernathy and others at the end. This was probably because he was ill (as I mentioned earlier), but it may have also been because of the emotion he released in talking about his own mortality and the future of the civil rights movement.
And all of you know that, just under 24 hours later, Martin Luther King was shot as he stood on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. He was shot at 6pm at the motel, and died an hour later at St. Joseph’s hospital in Memphis. And while it’s correct to say that MLK’s last publicly spoken words were “mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord” at the end of his “Mountaintop” speech the night before, the last words of his life, as recorded by Jesse Jackson and others who were standing with him on that balcony, were directed at a musician who was scheduled to perform at a civil rights event that night. Dr. King said, “…make sure you play ‘Take My Hand, Precious Lord’ in the meeting tonight. Play it real pretty.” Then he was shot.
Still, in terms of what everyone remembers, and as his final message to the civil rights movement in this country, and before he quoted the final line of The Battle Hymn, Dr. King said he’d been to the mountaintop, looked over, and had seen a promised land of justice and harmony.
Well, historians have also been to the mountaintop. And the only way for us to get there is to study and master mountains of historical material. It takes years to summit that mountain. But once we get to the top, we’re only allowed to look backward. When looking over the decades since 1861, when the Battle Hymn was first written, we have seen and studied many horrific examples of humans abusing each other and killing each other. Most relevant to what’s going on in the United States and other parts of the world right now is how we’ve studied the rise of totalitarian dictatorships in the past; and, perhaps the most frightening thing that we see is the way members of the public (often through ignorance and fear) allowed strong men to take over. Even worse is when otherwise reasonable and normal people believed that a strong man was necessary for a country, and they trampled on all sorts of constitutional and moral traditions in order to allow him to come to power. They even put their professed religious morals aside, and actually helped a dictator dress himself up in moral superiority.
Not only did we see all of this in the election of Donald Trump on November 6th, but we’re seeing it in more depth, and much more clearly, in the psychotic cabinet nominations he’s making, and in the ways that MAGA members of Congress, especially speaker of the House, Mike Johnson, are falling in behind him in lock step. Every day seems to bring a new outrage.
I hope, however, that we can all, somehow, follow Dr. King’s rhetorical example, one that Julia Ward Howe and all the people who sang the song in the Civil War must also have felt. Please let’s all say, “we’re not fearing any man,” especially one who wants to be a tyrant. And let’s work to make sure that tyranny never succeeds here.
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Buzzkill Bookshelf
John Stauffer and Benjamin Soskis, The Battle Hymn of the Republic: A Biography of the Song That Marches On
It was sung at Ronald Reagan’s funeral, and adopted with new lyrics by labor radicals. John Updike quoted it in the title of one of his novels, and George W. Bush had it performed at the memorial service in the National Cathedral for victims of September 11, 2001. Perhaps no other song has held such a profoundly significant–and contradictory–place in America’s history and cultural memory than the “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
In this sweeping study, John Stauffer and Benjamin Soskis show how this Civil War tune has become an anthem for cause after radically different cause. The song originated in antebellum revivalism, with the melody of the camp-meeting favorite, “Say Brothers, Will You Meet Us.” Union soldiers in the Civil War then turned it into “John Brown’s Body.” Julia Ward Howe, uncomfortable with Brown’s violence and militancy, wrote the words we know today. Using intense apocalyptic and millenarian imagery, she captured the popular enthusiasm of the time, the sense of a climactic battle between good and evil; yet she made no reference to a particular time or place, allowing it to be exported or adapted to new conflicts, including Reconstruction, sectional reconciliation, imperialism, progressive reform, labor radicalism, civil rights movements, and social conservatism. And yet the memory of the song’s original role in the bloody and divisive Civil War scuttled an attempt to make it the national anthem. The Daughters of the Confederacy held a contest for new lyrics, but admitted that none of the entries measured up to the power of the original.
“The Battle Hymn” has long helped to express what we mean when we talk about sacrifice, about the importance of fighting–in battles both real and allegorical–for the values America represents. It conjures up and confirms some of our most profound conceptions of national identity and purpose. And yet, as Stauffer and Soskis note, the popularity of the song has not relieved it of the tensions present at its birth–tensions between unity and discord, and between the glories and the perils of righteous enthusiasm. If anything, those tensions became more profound. By following this thread through the tapestry of American history, The Battle Hymn of the Republic illuminates the fractures and contradictions that underlie the story of our nation.