Celebrating Confederate History And Heritage Month

For those who have been in battle or who have anticipated "seeing the elephant," the term used in the War Between the States for being in combat, one of the most important officers in their command was the Chaplain. These men of all faiths have served, offering inspiration and reassurance to military persons, since George Washington commanded the Continental Army.

One of the chaplains in the Confederate Army was a Roman Catholic priest, Fr. Abram Joseph Ryan. Father Ryan wrote a poem, "The Conquered Banner," which became one of the most popular Confederate poems of the war.

The end of the Civil War was especially difficult for soldiers of the South. In addition to the trials of war and losses in battle, which often included their arms and legs, Southern veterans faced the indignity of defeat. There was little solace in having lost life or limb for a lost cause.

The men who had fought under the various flags and banners on both sides often revered their flags with a respect that bordered on worship. When one of the South's foremost generals, Nathan Bedford Forrest, surrendered in early May 1865 at Gainesville, Ala., Forrest told his men, "that we are beaten is a self-evident fact." He went on to note they were the last of the Confederate armies east of the Mississippi to quit the fight and that their cause was "today hopeless."

On the eve of the surrender, the remnants of the Seventh Tennessee Cavalry (CSA), the most feared and celebrated of Forrest's units, gathered with their bullet-riddled flag - sewn from the dress of a young woman from Aberdeen, Mississippi - and swore that it would never belong to the Yankees. Under cover of darkness, Forrest's men surrounded their officers in front of regimental headquarters and ripped the tattered silk banner to shreds. Each took a swatch, hiding it on his person like a secret badge of honor for having ridden with Forrest's cavalry. It was a conquered banner that would never be possessed by the enemy. The following is Fr. Ryan's poetic reminisces of "The Conquered Banner":

THE CONQUERED BANNER

Furl that Banner, for `tis weary;
Round its staff `tis drooping dreary;
Furl it, fold it -- it is best;
For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;
And its foes now scorn and brave it;
Furl it, hide it -- let it rest!


Take that banner down! `tis tattered;
Broken is its staff and shattered;
And the valiant hosts are scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
Oh, `tis hard for us to fold it,
Hard to think there's none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh!


Furl that Banner -- furl it sadly;
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave --
Swore that foeman's swords should never,
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
Till that flag should float forever
O'er their freedom or their grave!


Furl it! For the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;

And that Banner -- it is trailing, While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.


For, though conquered, they adore it --
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it!
Weep for those who fell before it!
Pardon those who trailed and tore it!
But, oh, wildly they deplore it,
Now who furl and fold it so!


Furl that Banner! True, `tis gory,
Yet `tis wreathed around with glory,
And `twill live in song and story
Though its folds are in the dust!
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages --
Furl its folds though now we must.


Furl that Banner, softly slowly;
Treat it gently, it is holy,
For it droops above the dead;
Touch it not -- unfold it never;
Let it droop there, furled forever-
For its people's hopes are fled.

      -FR. ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

Francis Miles Finch first published "The Blue and the Gray" in The Atlantic Monthly in 1867 as a salve for both North and South. It was inspired by the women of Columbus, Miss., who lay flowers on the graves of both Confederate and Union soldiers.

Finch, a judge of the New York Court of Appeals, expressed the desire of many Americans after the war to mourn their shared losses and heal the division between North and South. The poem was later included in the 1879 McGuffey's Reader. Millions of schoolchildren read and memorized the poem, and it was frequently recited at Memorial Day ceremonies in the years after the war.

By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,

Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue,
Under the other, the Gray.


These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue,
Under the willow, the Gray.


From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue,
Under the lilies, the Gray.


So with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;


Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.


So when the summer calleth,
On the forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue,
Wet with the rain, the Gray.


Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done,
In the storm of the years that are fading
No braver battle was won:
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue,
Under the garlands, the Gray.


No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

      -FRANCIS MULES FINCH

Source: The Civil War Archives: The History of the Civil War in Documents. Ed. Henry Steele Commager. Original pub. 1950. Bobbs-Merrill Co. Pub by Black Dog and Levanthal 2000.

Bill Ward is a historian, writer, and member of the Sons of Confederate Veterans living in Salisbury. Contact him at wardwriters@bellsouth.net