December 16: "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day"

Sorry for the extreme hipster-ness of that video, but I really like that version of the song. Also I wanted to post one that really put emphasis on the lyrics of today's unsung Christmas song, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." This was a last minute addition to my now-complete list of obscure carols that will take me through Christmas Day. I found room for it as soon as I read up on its origin and heard it sung because this one needs to be heard this year. And I'm sorry, but I don't think that there'll be too much comic relief in this post. Sometimes things just need writing about.

That is renowned American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in a photograph from 1868, five years after he penned the poem upon which "I Heard the Bells" is based. I'm sure there are many books written on Longfellow's life; he did, after all, seem to write the folk history of the United States in poetry. In case you don't remember, he is the author of Paul Revere's Ride and The Song of Hiawatha. To call him America's greatest poet might do his work just enough justice. But like those of so many creatives, Longfellow's life was full of tragic twists that undoubtedly gave some weight to his writing. Not least of these turns was the death of his second wife, Frances, in a fire on July 9, 1861. Her death led him to self-medicate in classic 19th century style: with laudanum and ether, and probably a good deal of alcohol. Even eighteen years later he grieved her loss in his poem The Cross of Snow, in which he wrote:

Such is the cross I wear upon my breast

These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes

And seasons, changeless since the day she died

Longfellow produced little poetry after the incident, finding his creativity stifled by his grief. It was exacerbated by his son Charles' decision to enlist in the Union Army in March of 1863 without his father's blessing. He told his father what I imagine he already knew in a letter, writing, "I have tried hard to resist the temptation of going without your leave but cannot any longer." Though Longfellow was an abolitionist, throwing his wealth and status behind the movement as early as the 1840's, he had no interest in his son risking his life in the war brought on in no small part by slavery. Then on  November 27 of that year Lieutenant Charles Longfellow of the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry was badly wounded by a shot through the back at the battle of Mine Run in central Virginia. 

Illustration from the Battle, published in Harper's Weekly

Though the bullet partially severed Charles' spine, he was miraculously not paralyzed, though his total recovery time was estimated at no less than six months when his father arrived to tend to his son in Washington on December 3. He returned to his home in Cambridge, MA and on Christmas Day, in a state of "trouble and anxiety" in his words, he penned the poem Christmas Bells. In it he lamented that while the bells brought thoughts of "peace on Earth, good will to men," but the knowledge of the war's cost to his own family made him doubt the truth of the idea:

Till ringing, singing on its way

The world revolved from night to day

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South

And with the sound

The carols drowned 

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

...

And in despair I bowed my head;

"There is no peace on earth" I said;

"For hate is strong

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

The final verse, however, gives hope for the future:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The Wrong shall fail

The Right prevail

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

In 1872 an English organist, John Calkin, set Wadsworth's poem to music, using an original tune. That tune, which is fittingly sad, is still used as the music to the carol, and is the music used in the version at top. Another arrangement from Johnny Marks, writer of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," was widely popular in the 1950's and 60's, but it doesn't carry the same sadness that I think is befitting the poem. Also, Calkin's hymn omitted the two verses that make direct reference to the Civil War, which changes the context of the words drastically. 

I think it's obvious why I made room for this one on the list: I needed to hear it. I've said before that I believe these are dark times for the world, and it's not just a matter of perception. Things are bad, and there's no getting around it. People are afraid for countless reasons, and once again we're a divided country--not North and South, but from umpteen different angles and directions. We need to remember that we're not the first people who have lived to see times like these; they've come before and they'll come again, just like Christmas comes every year to give us all something to pause for, even if only for a day. Forgive me for getting on my soapbox, but I feel like I can't read that last stanza enough: "The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men." Remember why this poem exists, and where it came from, and remember that this too, like that, shall pass.