Columbus and poetry, song and story and Joaquin Miller
I grew up in an era in which we had to memorize scads of poetry, some of it of the patriotic verse variety. I’ve written about the experience here. An excerpt:
I think it may be a lost pedagogical device, but when I was in grade school, we were forced by our teachers (mostly elderly women, as it happens) to memorize poetry. Lots of poetry. Most of it doggeral, but not all of it, not by any means.
There was an old-fashioned quality to their choices: patriotic and seasonal verse, concerning Presidents and holidays (“If Nancy Hanks came back as a ghost, seeking news of what she loved most”; “There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood”).
I was a good poetry memorizer. I’m not trying to brag here, since I don’t think this ability implies any particular merit on my part. But no sooner had I written the thing down, copied from the blackboard on which the teacher had slowly and laboriously written it in her beautiful handwriting, then it was firmly ensconced in my head.
And there much of it stays. To this day, actually.
Today is Columbus Day, which has changed a great deal since I was a child. Do they still teach children the poem by Joaquin Miller that we had to memorize? Probably not very often, but here is is. The first stanza and the last one have been roiling around in my head in honor of the day, and in fact we were required to sing them in assembly around this time of the year:
Behind him lay the gray Azores,
Behind the Gates of Hercules;
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said: “Now we must pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone.
Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?”
“Why, say, ‘Sail on! sail on! and on!’ “…Then pale and worn, he kept his deck,
And peered through darkness. Ah, that night
Of all dark nights! And then a speck —
A light! a light! at last a light!
It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn.
He gained a world; he gave that world
Its grandest lesson: “On! sail on!”
Apparently the poem has been set to music by a group called The Bondmen, but that was most definitely not the version we learned. Ours was sung to the melody of the Naval Hymn, which fit it exactly. I think my fondness for the Columbus song stemmed from the beauty of the music of that hymn more than anything else:
I decided to do a little research on the poem’s author Joaquin Miller, who was born with the impressive moniker Cincinnatus Heine Miller. Here’s just a bit about his colorful – even picaresque – life:
He accompanied William Walker on the latter’s 1855 filibustering expedition to Nicaragua. In the spring of 1857, Miller took part in an expedition against the Pit River Tribe after they killed a white man on Pit River. Years later, he claimed that he had sided with the Native Americans and was run out of town for it. He was widely rumored to have married an Indian woman, possibly a Wintu princess who nursed him back to health after he was wounded by Modocs, and to have fathered with her a daughter named Cali-Shasta, or “Lily of the Shasta.” Although Miller soon left the area to pursue other adventures, in the 1870s he sought out Cali-Shasta, then in her teens, and took her to San Francisco to be educated by his friend Ina Coolbrith. Contemporaries believed that Miller’s “Indian wife” was the woman later kidnapped by Modocs and held in captivity for some years until rescued by a man named Jim Brock (whom she married), but when “Amanda Brock” died in 1909, Miller denied news reports describing his supposed romance with her. He credited her with saving his life, but said she had always been a platonic friend.
Spending a short time in the mining camps of northern Idaho, Miller found his way to Canyon City, Oregon by 1864 where he was elected the third Judge of Grant County. His old cabin in Canyon City is still standing.
Miller’s exploits included a variety of occupations: mining-camp cook (who came down with scurvy from only eating what he cooked), lawyer and a judge, newspaper writer, Pony Express rider, and horse thief. On July 10, 1859, Miller was caught stealing a horse gelding valued at $80, a saddle worth $15, and other items. He was jailed briefly in Shasta County for the crime, and various accounts give other incidents of his repeating this crime in California and Oregon.
Much much much more at the link, including the fact that he was later known as the “Poet of the Sierras.” The Wiki entry also adds this: “For a time, Miller’s poem ‘Columbus’ was one of the most widely known American poems, memorized and recited by legions of schoolchildren.” I can attest to that – although, as I indicated, I’m going to assume that time is long past.
Later in life, Miller settled in Oakland, California. In fact, a search reveals that there’s currently a public elementary school named after him in Oakland. How retro! But, in an ironic twist typical of our times, the school’s website says the following on its home page under upcoming events for October 10: “Indigenous Peoples’ Day (OUSD Schools & Offices Closed).”
Sail on, Columbus Day, sail on.
So very long ago, Naval Aviation Cadets, marched class by class to Chapel on Sunday. and every service ended with the Navy hymn. (note: Jewish Cadets were excused on Sunday, and given leave to attend services in town on their own sabbath; and Catholics had mass. Atheists were out of luck.)
The beautiful original version had been updated with this stanza.
Lord, guard and guide the men fly
Through the great reaches in the sky.
Be with them always in the air,
In darkening storms or sunlight fair;
Oh, hear us when we lift our prayer,
For those in peril in the air.
This simple refrain touched a chord in aspiring Aviators who could then only imagine; but soon learned of the unforgiving nature of the journey on which they were embarking. It still resonates nearly seventy years after I first heard it.
Happily, progress in every phase of aviation over the past half century, or so, has greatly reduced the level of peril.
The Naval Hymn always brings back the indelible memory of an at sea memorial for fellow aviators who were missing and presumed killed in action. As we stood in ranks on the flight deck of the USS Midway, six empty coffins slid over the side – a memorial burial at sea. A prayer was offered by the ship’s Chaplain, and then the Navy Hymn was played over the ship’s sound system. Many grown men were choking back tears thinking of their departed comrades
I remember and think of the many sailors who have been buried at sea down through the ages. The long blue line of those who have gone down to the sea in ships. Being a sailor has always been an adventurous calling. More so in the days of Colombus. To sail where no maps existed, into uncharted waters. Well, those were men. Happy Columbus Day. May it be long remembered.
It would be interesting to know how and/or why Miller survived being jailed for stealing a horse. He must either have convinced the authorities that he didn’t actually do it, or that he had a really, really good reason for it. Or maybe that it was all a big misunderstanding. At least in some times and places in the old west stealing a horse was just a few steps below murder. There is a poignant instance in Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove, which is a very good novel, though with some scenes of violence that I found very difficult.
Neo: what a wonderful post. Much to reflect upon here. I am inspired by the poem which, growing up in Canada, was never forced on me (nay; never shown to me).
Oldflyer: I think a word is missing in your quote of the new stanza? Should it not be “Lord, guard and guide the men WHO fly…”?
PS: I am about to embark on a voyage with Samuel Eliot Morison’s volume about Columbus, “Admiral Of The Ocean Sea.” Very much looking forward to it.
Happy Columbus Day to all.
I once started a Philip Jose Farmer SF story titled “Sail On! Sail On!” I had the feeling the title was an allusion to something, I knew not what.
Now I know.
I didn’t finish the story. It was just too strange. Looking it up on wiki, I discover it was pretty darn strange:
_____________________________________
In an alternative 1492, Christopher Columbus sets out to find a shortened route to China and South-East Asia across the Atlantic, financed by Ferdinand V and Isabella I of Spain. However, in this timeline, the Earth is flat, though scientists and philosophers have doubts about its geological provenance, and an Angelo Angelli is mentioned as proving Aristotle’s axiom that objects of different weights drop with different velocities (which Galileo Galilei disproved in our world).
Radio technology exists in 1492, and the shipboard operator of a telegraph is a “Friar Sparks”, although the principles are described in religious terms involving angels’ winglength as a substitute for radio waves and the involvement of cherubim hurling themselves across the ether to send the signal (giving rise to “kilo-cherubs” as a measurement of frequency, denoted as “k c.”, and “continuous wingheight”, denoted as “c w”, both radio terms in the real world). Psychology also exists, which means that Columbus’s vessels do not turn back despite growing unease and ominous warning signs. It turns out that the Americas do not exist, and that this world is a disc, not a sphere; so, like other transatlantic travellers, Columbus and his colleagues sail over the edge of the world into Earth orbit, and never return from their mission.
Walt Whitman wrote a poem on his deathbed titled “Prayer of Columbus,” which he prefaced with a historical explanation: It was near the close of his indomitable and pious life–on his last voyage when nearly 70 years of age–that Columbus, to save his two remaining ships from foundering in the Caribbean Sea in a terrible storm, had to run them ashore on the Island of Jamaica–where, laid up for a long and miserable year–1503–he was taken very sick, had several relapses, his men revolted, and death seem’d daily imminent; though he was eventually rescued, and sent home to Spain to die, unrecognized, neglected and in want……It is only ask’d, as preparation and atmosphere for the following lines, that the bare authentic facts be recall’d and realized, and nothing contributed by the fancy. . . .
A batter’d, wreck’d old man,
Thrown on this savage shore, far, far from home,
Pent by the sea, and dark rebellious brows, twelve dreary months,
Sore, stiff with many toils, sicken’d, and nigh to death,
I take my way along the island’s edge,
Venting a heavy heart.
I am too full of woe!
Haply, I may not live another day;
I can not rest, O God–I can not eat or drink or sleep,
Till I put forth myself, my prayer, once more to Thee,
Breathe, bathe myself once more in Thee–commune with Thee,
Report myself once more to Thee. . . .
All my emprises have been fill’d with Thee,
My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of Thee,
Sailing the deep, or journeying the land for Thee;
Intentions, purports, aspirations mine–leaving results to Thee.
O I am sure they really come from Thee!
The urge, the ardor, the unconquerable will,
The potent, felt, interior command, stronger than words,
A message from the Heavens, whispering to me even in sleep,
These sped me on. . . .
The end I know not–it is all in Thee;
Or small, or great, I know not–haply, what broad fields, what lands;
Haply, the brutish, measureless human undergrowth I know,
Transplanted there, may rise to stature, knowledge worthy Thee;
Haply the swords I know may there indeed be turn’d to reaping-tools;
Haply the lifeless cross I know–Europe’s dead cross–may bud and
blossom there . . . .
My terminus near,
The clouds already closing in upon me,
The voyage balk’d–the course disputed, lost,
I yield my ships to Thee. . . .
And these things I see suddenly–what mean they?
As if some miracle, some hand divine unseal’d my eyes,
Shadowy, vast shapes, smile through the air and sky,
And on the distant waves sail countless ships,
And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me.
Portions of Whitman’s poem are engraved on a large gray-green marble wall sculpture unveiled in 1995 in the entrance to the Archives-Navy Memorial Metro station in Washington, D.C. The sculpture was donated by the Lisbon Subway System to the D.C. Metro, and is intended to symbolize the ocean connecting Portugal and the United States. The author of an article on the Metro wall sculpture notes, “The beautiful poem–indeed, prayer–is said to reflect Whitman’s own desire to communicate with God: ‘I shouldn’t wonder if I have unconsciously put a sort of autobiographical dash in it,’ he is reported to have said. He also gave considerable thought and reflection to it, reworking it twenty times.”
The article and the complete text of Whitman’s “Prayer of Columbus” can be found at the link: https://christophercolumbus.org/2008/10/11/the-prayer-of-columbus/
Yes, happy Columbus Day to all Neo’s readers.
In one of Heinlein’s SF stories, a verse has been added to the Navy hymn:
Almighty ruler of the all
Whose power extends to great and small,
Who guides the stars with steadfast law,
Whose least creation fills with awe –
Oh grant Thy mercy and Thy grace
To those who venture into space.
..pretty good, although I think it would be better if the third and fourth lines were swapped.
Space Force can’t use it, though, I guess, since they’re not part of the Navy.
Apropos of the Navy Hymn, the tune, called Melita in modern hymnals, was composed by John Bacchus Dykes (1823–1876), an Anglican clergyman whose father had been a shipbuilder. The name of the tune recalls the New Testament account of St. Paul’s experience of “peril on the sea.” “In the account in Acts 28:1 of Paul’s shipwreck on the way to Rome, Melita is the name of the island to which all of the people onboard swam to safety. The island is now known as Malta.”
https://songsandhymns.org/hymns/tunes/detail/melita
Whenever I hear the Navy Hymn, I think of JFK’s funeral. It was also sung at Prince Philip’s funeral in April 2021:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79oJWx3lxlU&ab_channel=BritBrit
It still hurts to see the Queen sitting alone at the funeral of her husband of 73 years.
PA+Cat: Thanks for the Whitman poem. Very moving; and illustrative of Whitman’s appealing method. We are taken up into his point of view.
Owen–
You are very welcome. Whitman is not an easy poet, but he always repays a reader’s time and effort– especially if you read him aloud, if only to yourself.
Thanks for the Navy Hymn. Being a Navy Man, as is my Brother and our late Father it is moving and means something personal.
JJ, I was on the USS Franklin D Roosevelt, CVA-42, my Brother was on the Midway, a Sister Ship.
OldFlyer, you must have been at Pensacola. For a very short time so was I in 1968.
I only recall having to memorize two poems, The Raven and something about children playing with blocks on a carpet. This Columbus poem I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
@ Dwaz > “playing with blocks on a carpet”
Sounds like it may have been this one, The Land of Counterpane by Robert Louis Stevenson, if you have misremembered playing with toys on a quilt.
Counterpane (American Heritage Dictionary): “A bed-cover; a coverlet for a bed; a quilt; now, specifically, a coverlet woven of cotton with raised figures, also called Marseilles quilt.”
* * *
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
I also remember having to memorize poetry in middle and high school, thus random lines and allusions do come back at odd times, as Neo observed in her linked post.
For years, I could do “Jabberwocky” and “The Raven” at the drop of a cue; the former is still in active storage, but I have, alas, lost a lot of the latter from attrition, due to not reciting it as frequently.
I also can (or could) recite large swatches of dialogue from theater productions that I have been in, or really liked: The Music Man most completely, but many other musicals of that era (including songs — although sometimes only the first few lines and the chorus), and quite a bit of The Importance of Being Earnest.
Shakespeare, of course, counts both as theater and poetry.
Kipling also resides in much of my grey matter, in the poetry and prose neighborhoods.
Most people know more poetry than they think they do, for every song’s text is a poem (although more accurately perhaps, for some, it is only “verse”). Depends on the song, I suppose: hymns are more likely to be called poetry, and musical theatre, verse. YMMV on the latter, depending on the composer and the show!
PA Cat > in re the Whitman poem.
The article you linked confirmed something I remembered learning about Columbus, which is that he really did think he was on a mission from God, which Whitman clearly understood.
@aesopfan
That’s a nice poem but not it. This involved two kids and was definitely on a carpet. I’m only sure of that much because I recall the accompanying illustration more than the verse.
The style was very much like Stephenson but was not his Block City, either.
David Foster. I liked Heinlein’s juvies, up through Starship Troopers.
My father was an Infantry platoon leader in the ETO, sometimes company commander until they could find another captain. Once, before what promised to be a very bad time, he recited Kipling’s “When Earth’s Last Picture Is Painted” to his guys.
I recall learning the Marine Corps Hymn in third grade–I was born in 45. And what is now the Army song or some such. Used to be “And it’s hi, hi hee, in the Field Artillery as those caissons go rolling along.” Same tune, somewhat different lyrics today.
Had to memorize and recite the Preamble in eighth grade. Imagine trying to put that in the curriculum today.
Garland would be all over our teacher(s) today.
In the sixth grade, we had to memorize poetry, too – all kinds of things, from Walt Whitman to Robert Service. I think memorizing and reciting poetry and prose was especially suitable for kids – a kind of mental calisthenics.
I still remember bits and snatches of those pieces that we memorized. One of them was the opening of the Declaration of Independence.
Dwaz: “This involved two kids and was definitely on a carpet. I’m only sure of that much because I recall the accompanying illustration more than the verse.”
I think we may have had the same grade-school reader. I remember the illustration as well: a young boy building a block city on a carpet, in what looked like late-afternoon sunlight. Can’t remember the title, but I think it was a 19th-century poem. I do remember that the same reader, or a volume in the same series, had Robert Graves’ “I’d Love To Be A Fairy’s Child”. Also with an evocative illustration.
My cousin texted me “Happy Indigenous Peoples Day”. I texted back ” We celebrated Columbus Day here.” No return text.
Richard Cook said, My cousin texted me “Happy Indigenous Peoples Day”. I texted back ” We celebrated Columbus Day here.”
When does the renaming of towns and cities as well as the removal of statues begin? There are 19 towns and cities in various U.S. states other than Columbus, Ohio, that are named for Columbus.
Then there is Columbia, the female personification of the United States, a common figure in WWI recruitment posters. There are over 20 towns, cities (particularly Columbia, SC), and census-designated places named Columbia, not to mention the District of Columbia and the Ivy League university in NYC. (We’ll let Trudeau figure out what to do with British Columbia).
Richard Aubrey mentions learning the songs of the various branches of the military in school. I learned them too, including the Coast Guard’s “Semper Paratus.” But back to Columbia– one of the patriotic songs we learned (and enjoyed singing) was “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,” written in the 1840s and a favorite of Abraham Lincoln. The third stanza with the line “The Army and Navy forever” [no Air Force in the 1840s!] always got the kids singing loudly. Here is a version with scrolling lyrics; I think the singers are the Robert Shaw Chorale:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wIDXclKtGQ&ab_channel=71superbee3
At one time, “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” was considered an unofficial American national anthem, as the “Star-Spangled Banner” was not officially adopted as our national anthem until 1931.