Music was everywhere during the Civil War. Tunes could be heard ringing out from parlor pianos, thundering at political rallies, and setting the rhythms of military and domestic life. With literacy still limited, music was an important vehicle for communicating ideas about the war, and it had a lasting impact in the decades that followed. Drawing on an array of published and archival sources, Christian McWhirter analyzes the myriad ways music influenced popular culture in the years surrounding the war and discusses its deep resonance for both whites and blacks, South and North.
Though published songs of the time have long been catalogued and appreciated, McWhirter is the first to explore what Americans actually said and did with these pieces. By gauging the popularity of the most prominent songs and examining how Americans used them, McWhirter returns music to its central place in American life during the nation's greatest crisis. The result is a portrait of a war fought to music.
If music has charms that can soothe savagery, as Congreve wrote, this book amply testifies that music also has a force that can inspire bellicosity.
The goal of the book, according to the author, is to “push beyond lyrical and musical analysis and move music out from the periphery of Civil War history.” By looking at the careers of the most popular songs and the manner in which they were performed and received by soldiers and civilians, North and South, black and white, McWhirter--an assistant editor for the Abraham Lincoln Papers at the National Archives--not only attains his avowed goal but also achieves a deeper one of providing a powerful account of music as a force to be reckoned with in the formation and definition of the human experience.
Songs like "John Brown’s Body" and "The Bonnie Blue Flag" gave voice to deep-seated and often inarticulate emotions. One account of a performance of the latter song concluded that, judging from the “electrified” response of an Alabama audience, “every man at once seemed to lose his reason.” In effect, the song became every man’s reason: it explained the cause they were fighting for and galvanized them to it.
The effect of music on morale was well understood. Army commanders on both sides did what they could to secure the services of skilled bandsmen (most of whom did double-duty as stretcher-bearers on the battlefield). As the territory occupied by Union armies expanded, their leaders sought ways to sap Southern morale by keeping Confederate music from being performed; “secesh” sympathizers in these areas—-mostly women—-resisted, with the result being what McWhirter describes as “musical battles.”
This wide-ranging study touches on an important aspect of African-American history as well: the early years of the Civil War mark the first real exposure of black music to white audiences. Heretofore white audiences supposed black music to be like the “minstrel” songs written by professional songwriters as Stephen Foster. Slaves fleeing from their plantations soon taught them otherwise. Their songs were spirituals about delivery and freedom. As for the minstrel songs, the former slaves either knew nothing of them or regarded them as “highly improper.”
McWhirter’s deft and entertaining use of anecdotal material to support his arguments will appeal to a wide audience. For example, describing how the process of song selection was driven from below, particularly by the common soldier, and often to the chagrin of the highbrow, he includes a scene in which Confederate generals Johnston, Beauregard, and Longstreet drunkenly discuss the subject of the Southern national anthem; they agree that "Dixie" doesn’t have “sufficient dignity;” Longstreet favors replacing it with an aria by Bellini; he advances his argument by getting up on a table and belting it out.
One hopes that somewhere are Civil War re-enactors who will revivify this scene.