“The Grand Opera House never contained a larger audience. Not only were all the chairs taken up but every inch of standing-room was pre-empted. There were many persons who could not gain an entrance.... Mr. Dibble next called the attention of the audience to the fact that Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, the author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic,’ was among the guests of the evening.
“At this juncture an enthusiastic gentleman in one of the front seats sprang up and called for three cheers for Mrs. Howe. They were given with a vim, Mrs. Howe acknowledging the compliment by rising and bowing.... The next event upon the program was the singing of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ by J. C. Hughes. The singing was preceded by a scene rarely witnessed and which was not on the printed program. General Salomon introduced Mrs. Howe to the audience in an appreciative speech.
“A beautiful floral piece was then presented to Mrs. Howe, which she acknowledged in fitting terms, while the audience gave three cheers and a tiger for the author of ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’
“Mrs. Howe advanced to the footlights, beaming with pleasure. She then said:
“‘My dear friends, I cannot, with my weak voice, reach this vast assemblage; but I will endeavor to have some of you hear me. I join in this celebration with thrilled and uplifted heart. I remember those camp-fires, I remember those dreadful battles. It was a question with us women, “Will our men prevail? Until they do, they will not come home.” How we blessed them when they did; how we blessed them with our prayers when they were on the battle-field. Those were times of sorrow; this is one of joy. Let us thank God who has given us these victories.’
“As Mrs. Howe was about to resume her seat the audience rose en masse, and from the dress-circle to the upper gallery rung a round of cheers.
“The audience remained standing while Mr. Hughes sang the stirring words of the hymn, and joined heartily in the chorus as by request. At the last chorus Mrs. Howe stepped forward and joined in the song, closing with a general flutter of handkerchiefs.”
My mother visited the Pacific coast twice in the latter years of her life, as her beloved sister, Mrs. Adolphe Mailliard, then lived there. She was received in a way that was very gratifying to her and her family.
One of the most dearly prized privileges of a self-governing people is that of constant grumbling over the administration of affairs and of finding fault with our rulers—who, in the last analysis, are ourselves. In England men write to the Times; in America we write to many papers and we complain endlessly. This would evidently be impossible under a despotic Government, and it sometimes seems as if we indulged too freely in depreciating our own country and its institutions. Yet deep down in the hearts of our people is a love of our native land which flames forth brightly on great occasions. The country which produced the “Battle Hymn” is not lacking in true patriotism. So long as our people use it to express their deepest emotions we need fear no serious treason to the Republic. The danger of our frequent fault-finding is that we thus allow our righteous indignation to evaporate in mere words.
Supineness in politics, an indolence which permits unworthy men to usurp the reins of government, is one of our great sins as a nation. Yet the corrupt manipulator who goes too far meets an uprising of popular indignation which thoroughly surprises him. From the New York Sun we quote the story of such a day of retribution.