19th Century American Romanticism

In one respect, the musical trends in hymnody paralleled the musical trends in secular culture, particular the rise of the American popular song. It is not always easy to distinguish between a hymn and a secular song from this period because the language of the texts and and the musical styles are very often the same. In addition, some secular songs were actually published in hymn books as 4-part chorales as well as being published as sheet music. Apparently little distinction was made between songs for sacred or secular use; they were often interchangeable. A classic example of this is the song, "Beautiful isle of somewhere"which became a favorite and was published in gospel hymnals well into the 20th century.

One reason for this phenomenon is that songwriters were aiming at as broad a popular audience as possible, including both those with money and the poor, although the cost of sheet music in the 1800’s was no small amount, 25 - 60 cents. In addition (and this should not be underestimated) there was subject matter common to both areas -- sacred and secular, namely:

Consequently, one product could many times serve the needs of both worlds.

Death and its associated aspects were major subject matter in fiction, poetry, art, and music during much of the 19th century. It was perhaps the prominent theme in 19th century Romanticism, with its love of the tragic and the supernatural. Although death as an artistic concept was actually promoted by many of the great creators of the 19th century (Dickens’ "Little Nell" in Curiosity Shoppe, the "love-death" in Wagner's Tristan, the "Funeral March" in Chopin’s 2nd Piano Sonata), there were other factors involved with this preoccupation namely death as the great class equalizer. Death has no concern for class or social group. In the U.S. during the late decades of the 19th century, industrialization spread at an incredible rate and early death became increasingly ordinary for large sections of the population. The infant-mortality rate in New York City alone rose 65% between 1819-1870. An epidemic in Memphis wiped out almost 10% of that city in 1873 and raw sewerage pumped into the streets of New Orleans spread typhoid and death to the rich and poor alike.

Widespread death, particularly among young males was certainly common during the Civil War years when casualties amounted to over 630,000. This morbid fascination with death and all things associated with death spilled over into the economic world spawning such industries as funeral paraphernalia: mourning dresses and emblems, hearses, coffins, tombstones, real estate (grave yards).

Many Americans at mid-century were eager to have their sadder feelings aroused and massaged. They published and purchased a large song literature that reminded them relentlessly of dying, particularly dying children, decimated families, sailors buried at sea, soldiers shot in battle with a whispered message for mother on their dying lips, young girls abandoned and frozen to death in the street, and fresh graves in sunlit meadows. Songs about angels were also popular because they combined the poignancy of death with the reassurance of heaven.

Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots

And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?

No; such was not the fate of
Young Stephen Dowling Bots;
Though sad hearts round him thickened,
'Twas not from sickness' shots.

No whooping-cough did rack his frame,
Nor measles drear with spots;
Not these impaired the sacred name
Of Stephen Dowling Bots.

Despised love struck not with woe
That head of curly knots,
Nor stomach troubles laid him low,
Young Stephen Dowling Bots.

O no. Then list with tearful eye,
Whilst I his fate do tell.
His soul did from this cold world fly
By falling down a well.

They got him out and emptied him;
Alas it was too late;
His spirit was gone for to sport aloft
In the realms of the good and great.

If Emmeline Grangerford could make poetry like that before she was fourteen, there ain't no telling what she could a done by and by. Buck said she could rattle off poetry like nothing. She didn't ever have to stop to think. He said she would slap down a line, and if she couldn't find anything to rhyme with it would just scratch it out and slap down another one, and go ahead. She warn't particular; she could write about anything you choose to give her to write about just so it was sadful. Every time a man died, or a woman died, or a child died, she would be on hand with her "tribute" before he was cold. She called them tributes.

The neighbors said it was the doctor first, then Emmeline, then the undertaker -- the undertaker never got in ahead of Emmeline but once, and then she hung fire on a rhyme for the dead person's name, which was Whistler. She warn't ever the same after that; she never complained, but she kinder pined away and did not live long. Poor thing, many's the time I made myself go up to the little room that used to be hers and get out her poor old scrapbook and read in it when her pictures had been aggravating me and I had soured on her a little. I liked all that family, dead ones and all, and warn't going to let anything come between us. Poor Emmeline made poetry about all the dead people when she was alive, and it didn't seem right that there warn't nobody to make some about her now she was gone; so I tried to sweat out a verse or two myself, but I couldn't seem to make it go somehow.

Well, as I was saying about the parlor, there was beautiful curtains on the windows: white, with pictures painted on them of castles with vines all down the walls, and cattle coming down to drink. There was a little old piano, too, that had tin pans in it, I reckon, and nothing was ever so lovely as to hear the young ladies sing "The Last Link is Broken" and play "The Battle of Prague" on it. The walls of all the rooms was plastered, and most had carpets on the floors, and the whole house was whitewashed on the outside. It was a double house, and the big open place betwixt them was roofed and floored, and sometimes the table was set there in the middle of the day, and it was a cool, comfortable place. Nothing couldn't be better. And warn't the cooking good, and just bushels of it too!