The war brought to some of us, besides its direct experiences, many a strange fulfilment of dreams of other days. For instance, the present writer had been a faithful student of the Scottish ballads, and had always envied Sir Walter the delight of tracing them out amid their own heather, and of writing them down piecemeal from the lips of aged crones. It was a strange enjoyment, therefore, to be suddenly brought into the midst of a kindred world of unwritten songs, as simple and indigenous as the Border Minstrelsy, more uniformly plaintive, almost always more quaint, and often as essentially poetic. This interest was rather increased by the fact that I had for many years heard of this class of songs under the name of "Negro Spirituals," and had even heard some of them sung by friends from South Carolina. I could now gather on their own soil these strange plants, which I had before seen as in museums alone. True, the individual songs rarely coincided; there was a line here, a chorus there,—just enough to fix the class, but this was unmistakable. It was not strange that they differed, for the range seemed almost endless, and South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida seemed to have nothing but the generic character in common, until all were mingled in the united stock of camp-melodies.
Often in the starlit evening, I have returned from some lonely ride by the swift river, or on the plover-haunted barrens, and, entering the camp, have silently approached some glimmering fire, round which the dusky figures moved in the rhythmical barbaric dance the negroes call a "shout," chanting, often harshly, but always in the most perfect time, some monotonous refrain. Writing down in the darkness, as I best could,—perhaps with my hand in the safe covert of my pocket,—the words of the song, I have afterwards carried it to my tent, like some captured bird or insect, and then, after examination, put it by. Or, summoning one of the men at some period of leisure,—Corporal Robert Sutton, for instance, whose iron memory held all the details of a song as if it were a ford or a forest,—I have completed the new specimen by supplying the absent parts. The music I could only retain by ear, and though the more common strains were repeated often enough to fix their impression, there were others that occurred only once or twice.
The words will be here given, as nearly as possible, in the original dialect; and if the spelling seems sometimes inconsistent, or the misspelling insufficient, it is because I could get no nearer. I wished to avoid what seems to me the only error of Lowell's "Biglow Papers" in respect to dialect, the occasional use of an extreme misspelling, which merely confuses the eye, without taking us any closer to the peculiarity of sound.
The favorite song in camp was the following, sung with no accompaniment but the measured clapping of hands and the clatter of many feet. It was sung perhaps twice as often as any other. This was partly due to the fact that it properly consisted of a chorus alone, with which the verses of other songs might be combined at random.
I. HOLD YOUR LIGHT.
  "Hold your light, Brudder Robert,
    Hold your light,
  Hold your light on Canaan's shore.
  "What make ole Satan for follow me so?
  Satan ain't got notin' for do wid me.
    Hold your light,
    Hold your light,
  Hold your light on Canaan's shore."
This would be sung for half an hour at a time, perhaps each person present being named in turn. It seemed the simplest primitive type of "spiritual." The next in popularity was almost as elementary, and, like this, named successively each one of the circle. It was, however, much more resounding and convivial in its music.
II. BOUND TO GO.
  "Jordan River, I'm bound to go,
    Bound to go, bound to go,—
  Jordan River, I'm bound to go,
    And bid 'em fare ye well.
 
  "My Brudder Robert, I'm bound to go,
    Bound to go," &c.
 
  "My Sister Lucy, I'm bound to go,
    Bound to go," &c.
Sometimes it was "tink 'em" (think them) "fare ye well." The ye was so detached that I thought at first it was "very" or "vary well."
Another picturesque song, which seemed immensely popular, was at first very bewildering to me. I could not make out the first words of the chorus, and called it the "Roman-dar," being reminded of some Romaic song which I had formerly heard. That association quite fell in with the Orientalism of the new tent-life.
III. ROOM IN THERE.
  "O, my mudder is gone! my mudder is gone!
  My mudder is gone into heaven, my Lord!
    I can't stay behind!
  Dere's room in dar, room in dar,
  Room in dar, in de heaven, my Lord!
    I can't stay behind!
  Can't stay behind, my dear,
    I can't stay behind!
 
  "O, my fader is gone!" &c.
 
  "O, de angels are gone!" &c.
 
  "O, I'se been on de road! I'se been on de road!
  I'se been on de road into heaven, my Lord!
    I can't stay behind!
  O, room in dar, room in dar,
  Room in dar, in de heaven, my Lord!
    I can't stay behind!
By this time every man within hearing, from oldest to youngest, would be wriggling and shuffling, as if through some magic piper's bewitchment; for even those who at first affected contemptuous indifference would be drawn into the vortex erelong.
Next to these in popularity ranked a class of songs belonging emphatically to the Church Militant, and available for camp purposes with very little strain upon their symbolism. This, for instance, had a true companion-in-arms heartiness about it, not impaired by the feminine invocation at the end.
IV. HAIL MARY.
  "One more valiant soldier here,
    One more valiant soldier here,
  One more valiant soldier here,
    To help me bear de cross.
  O hail, Mary, hail!
    Hail, Mary, hail!
  Hail, Mary, hail!
    To help me bear de cross."
I fancied that the original reading might have been "soul," instead of "soldier,"—with some other syllable inserted to fill out the metre,—and that the "Hail, Mary," might denote a Roman Catholic origin, as I had several men from St. Augustine who held in a dim way to that faith. It was a very ringing song, though not so grandly jubilant as the next, which was really impressive as the singers pealed it out, when marching or rowing or embarking.
V. MY ARMY CROSS OVER.
  "My army cross over,
  My army cross over,
  O, Pharaoh's army drowndedl
  My army cross over.
 
  "We'll cross de mighty river,
    My army cross over;
  We'll cross de river Jordan,
    My army cross over;
  We'll cross de danger water,
    My army cross over;
  We'll cross de mighty Myo,
    My army cross over. (Thrice.)
    O, Pharaoh's army drowndedl
    My army cross over."
I could get no explanation of the "mighty Myo," except that one of the old men thought it meant the river of death. Perhaps it is an African word. In the Cameroon dialect, "Mawa" signifies "to die."
The next also has a military ring about it, and the first line is well matched by the music. The rest is conglomerate, and one or two lines show a more Northern origin. "Done" is a Virginia shibboleth, quite distinct from the "been" which replaces it in South Carolina. Yet one of their best choruses, without any fixed words, was, "De bell done ringing," for which, in proper South Carolina dialect, would have been substituted, "De bell been a-ring." This refrain may have gone South with our army.
VI. RIDE IN, KIND SAVIOUR.
  "Ride in, kind Saviour!
    No man can hinder me.
  O, Jesus is a mighty man!
    No man, &c.
  We're marching through Virginny fields.
    No man, &c.
  O, Satan is a busy man,
    No man, &c.
  And he has his sword and shield,
    No man, &c.
  O, old Secesh done come and gone!
    No man can hinder me."
Sometimes they substituted "binder we," which was more spicy to the ear, and more in keeping with the usual head-over-heels arrangement of their pronouns.
Almost all their songs were thoroughly religious in their tone, however quaint then: expression, and were in a minor key, both as to words and music. The attitude is always the same, and, as a commentary on the life of the race, is infinitely pathetic. Nothing but patience for this life,—nothing but triumph in the next. Sometimes the present predominates, sometimes the future; but the combination is always implied. In the following, for instance, we hear simply the patience.
VII. THIS WORLD ALMOST DONE.
  "Brudder, keep your lamp trimmin' and a-burnin',
  Keep your lamp trimmin' and a-burnin',
  Keep your lamp trimmin' and a-burnin',
    For dis world most done.
  So keep your lamp, &c.
    Dis world most done."
But in the next, the final reward of patience is proclaimed as plaintively.
VIII. I WANT TO GO HOME.
  "Dere's no rain to wet you,
    O, yes, I want to go home.
  Dere's no sun to burn you,
    O, yes, I want to go home;
  O, push along, believers,
    O, yes, &c.
  Dere's no hard trials,
    O, yes, &c.
  Dere's no whips a-crackin',
    O, yes, &c.
  My brudder on de wayside,
    O, yes, &c.
  O, push along, my brudder,
    O, yes, &c.
  Where dere's no stormy weather,
    O, yes, &c.
  Dere's no tribulation,
    O, yes, &c.
This next was a boat-song, and timed well with the tug of the oar.
IX. THE COMING DAY
  "I want to go to Canaan,
  I want to go to Canaan,
  I want to go to Canaan,
    To meet 'em at de comin' day.
  O, remember, let me go to Canaan, (Thrice.)
    To meet "em, &c.
  O brudder, let me go to Canaan, (Thrice.)
    To meet 'em, &c.
  My brudder, you—oh!—remember, (Thrice.)
    To meet 'em at de comin' day."
The following begins with a startling affirmation, yet the last line quite outdoes the first. This, too, was a capital boat-song.
X. ONE MORE RIVER.
  "O, Jordan bank was a great old bank,
    Dere ain't but one more river to cross.
  We have some valiant soldier here,
    Dere ain't, &c.
  O, Jordan stream will never run dry,
    Dere ain't, &c.
  Dere's a hill on my leff, and he catch on my right,
    Dere ain't but one more river to cross."
I could get no explanation of this last riddle, except, "Dat mean, if you go on de leff, go to 'struction, and if you go on de right, go to God, for sure."
In others, more of spiritual conflict is implied, as in this next
XI. O THE DYING LAMB!
  "I wants to go where Moses trod,
    O de dying Lamb!
  For Moses gone to de promised land,
    O de dying Lamb!
  To drink from springs dat never run dry,
    O, &c.
  Cry O my Lord!
    O, &c.
  Before I'll stay in hell one day,
    O, &c.
  I'm in hopes to pray my sins away,
    O, &c.
  Cry O my Lord!
    0,&c.
  Brudder Moses promised for be dar too,
    O, &c.
  To drink from streams dat never run dry,
    O de dying Lamb!"
In the next, the conflict is at its height, and the lurid imagery of the Apocalypse is brought to bear. This book, with the books of Moses, constituted their Bible; all that lay between, even the narratives of the life of Jesus, they hardly cared to read or to hear.
XII. DOWN IN THE VALLEY.
  "We'll run and never tire,
  We'll run and never tire,
  We'll run and never tire,
    Jesus set poor sinners free.
  Way down in de valley,
    Who will rise and go with me?
  You've heern talk of Jesus,
    Who set poor sinners free.
 
  "De lightnin' and de flashin'
  De lightnin' and de flashin',
  De lightnin' and de flashin',
    Jesus set poor shiners free.
  I can't stand the fire. (Thrice.)
    Jesus set poor sinners free,
  De green trees a-flamin'. (Thrice.)
    Jesus set poor shiners free,
      Way down in de valley,
        Who will rise and go with me?
      You've heern talk of Jesus
        Who set poor shiners free."
"De valley" and "de lonesome valley" were familiar words in their religious experience. To descend into that region implied the same process with the "anxious-seat" of the camp-meeting. When a young girl was supposed to enter it, she bound a handkerchief by a peculiar knot over her head, and made it a point of honor not to change a single garment till the day of her baptism, so that she was sure of being in physical readiness for the cleansing rite, whatever her spiritual mood might be. More than once, in noticing a damsel thus mystically kerchiefed, I have asked some dusky attendant its meaning, and have received the unfailing answer,—framed with their usual indifference to the genders of pronouns—"He in de lonesome valley, sa."
The next gives the same dramatic conflict, while its detached and impersonal refrain gives it strikingly the character of the Scotch and Scandinavian ballads.
XIII. CRY HOLY.
  "Cry holy, holy!
    Look at de people dat is born of God.
  And I run down de valley, and I run down to pray,
    Says, look at de people dat is born of God.
  When I get dar, Cappen Satan was dar,
    Says, look at, &c.
  Says, young man, young man, dere's no use for pray,
    Says, look at, &c.
  For Jesus is dead, and God gone away,
    Says, look at, &c.
  And I made him out a liar, and I went my way,
    Says, look at, &c.
      Sing holy, holy!
 
  "O, Mary was a woman, and he had a one Son,
    Says, look at, &c.
  And de Jews and de Romans had him hung,
    Says, look at, &c. Cry holy, holy!
 
  "And I tell you, sinner, you had better had pray,
    Says, look at, &c.
  For hell is a dark and dismal place,
    Says, look at, &c.
 
  And I tell you, sinner, and I wouldn't go dar!
    Says, look at, &c.
    Cry holy, holy!"
Here is an infinitely quaint description of the length of the heavenly road:—
XIV. O'ER THE CROSSING.
  "Vender's my old mudder,
    Been a-waggin' at de hill so long.
  It's about time she'll cross over;
    Get home bimeby.
  Keep prayin', I do believe
    We're a long time waggin' o'er de crossin'.
  Keep prayin', I do believe
    We'll get home to heaven bimeby.
 
  "Hear dat mournful thunder
    Roll from door to door,
  Calling home God's children;
    Get home bimeby.
  Little chil'en, I do believe
    We're a long time, &c.
  Little chil'en, I do believe
    We'll get home, &c.
 
  "See dat forked lightnin'
    Flash from tree to tree,
  Callin' home God's chil'en;
    Get home bimeby.
  True believer, I do believe
    We're a long time, &c.
  O brudders, I do believe,
    We'll get home to heaven bimeby."
One of the most singular pictures of future joys, and with fine flavor of hospitality about it, was this:—
XV. WALK 'EM EASY.
  "O, walk 'em easy round de heaven,
  Walk 'em easy round de heaven,
  Walk 'em easy round de heaven,
    Dat all de people may join de band.
  Walk 'em easy round de heaven. (Thrice.)
    O, shout glory till 'em join dat band!"
The chorus was usually the greater part of the song, and often came in paradoxically, thus:—
XVI. O YES, LORD.
  "O, must I be like de foolish mans?
    O yes, Lord!
  Will build de house on de sandy hill.
    O yes, Lord!
  I'll build my house on Zion hill,
    O yes, Lord!
  No wind nor rain can blow me down,
    O yes, Lord!"
The next is very graceful and lyrical, and with more variety of rhythm than usual:—
XVII. BOW LOW, MARY.
  "Bow low, Mary, bow low, Martha,
    For Jesus come and lock de door,
    And carry de keys away.
  Sail, sail, over yonder,
  And view de promised land.
    For Jesus come, &c.
  Weep, O Mary, bow low, Martha,
    For Jesus come, &c.
  Sail, sail, my true believer;
  Sail, sail, over yonder;
  Mary, bow low, Martha, bow low,
    For Jesus come and lock de door
    And carry de keys away."
But of all the "spirituals" that which surprised me the most, I think,—perhaps because it was that in which external nature furnished the images most directly,—was this. With all my experience of their ideal ways of speech, I was startled when first I came on such a flower of poetry in that dark soil.
XVIII. I KNOW MOON-RISE.
  "I know moon-rise, I know star-rise,
    Lay dis body down.
  I walk in de moonlight, I walk in de starlight,
    To lay dis body down.
  I'll walk in de graveyard, I'll walk through de graveyard,
    To lay dis body down.
  I'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms;
    Lay dis body down.
  I go to de judgment in de evenin' of de day,
    When I lay dis body down;
  And my soul and your soul will meet in de day
    When I lay dis body down."
"I'll lie in de grave and stretch out my arms." Never, it seems to me, since man first lived and suffered, was his infinite longing for peace uttered more plaintively than in that line.
The next is one of the wildest and most striking of the whole series: there is a mystical effect and a passionate striving throughout the whole. The Scriptural struggle between Jacob and the angel, which is only dimly expressed in the words, seems all uttered in the music. I think it impressed my imagination more powerfully than any other of these songs.
XIX. WRESTLING JACOB.
  "O wrestlin' Jacob, Jacob, day's a-breakin';
    I will not let thee go!
  O wrestlin' Jacob, Jacob, day's a-breakin';
    He will not let me go!
  O, I hold my brudder wid a tremblin' hand
    I would not let him go!
  I hold my............