As settlers came to the Middle Tennessee area, so did the camp meeting, shape note singing style.
Attempts to settle Rutherford County prior to 1790 were difficult due to Indian hostility, so settlement was sparse and scattered. However, after the Revolutionary War, many land grants were given to soldiers for their services in lieu of economic remuneration, which expanded settlements in Middle Tennessee. In 1786, grants were given in southern Davidson County on the Stones River at the mouth of the Cumberland River at Jefferson, near present-day Smyrna, Tenn. When Tennessee became a state in 1796, many of those war-weary soldiers, “Over the Mountain Men” as they were called, settled here in Middle Tennessee. They were not only scarred physically from the battle, but continued waging a seemingly endless war in their minds and spirits. Here’s a story compiled from readings in the Annals of Rutherford County by John C. Spence, Volume I 1799-1828. Settler is a fictitious, composite character based upon the research.
Before the Revolutionary War, Settler had been a poor man living in the Tar River settlement of North Carolina. Carving out a living in the thin, clay-gravelly soil near the river scarcely supported the family’s growing needs. Up until the murder of his mother, father and brother at the hands of the British, the Revolution in America was a fight far removed from Settler’s simple life of subsistence.
Although they were unorganized and untrained, Settler, along with other vigilant, determined patriots, defeated the British at the Battle of Kings Mountain, Oct. 7, 1780. In one hour and five minutes, the British proved to be no match to the marksmanship and guerilla-like warfare of those men. They had vowed to avenge those whose houses had been torched and loved ones slaughtered. The valor of these revolutionaries was unquestionable, turning the tide of the Revolution which had sealed America’s independence from England. Nevertheless, intermingled in thoughts of resounding victory, unresolved resentment and anger were being harbored. Victory transpired on the battlefield, but the war for the mind and spirit was still being waged in the hearts of those fighting men. Although Settler had cleared the land, carved the soil, built his cabin and conquered the wilderness, there was still an overpowering, intangible wilderness to be overcome within, a real battle-waging that continued to derail his thoughts. These destructive emotions created an unseen battle that he could not win. How could he ease his mind, find contentment and live the rest of his life successfully?
It was 1803 and several years after the Great War for Independence. In Tennessee, with a county seat at Jefferson—a new county—Rutherford had been formed. Indeed, adjusting after the war had been difficult for Settler. There were endless days when the memory of the horrors of war continued to consume him. Although an injury from the Battle at Kings Mountain had left him with one hand, it had hardly left him handicapped and limited from the rigors of pioneer life. He began to contemplate that a move across the mountain, a geographic cure of sorts, would end the internal struggle. Although his past had left him scarred physically, mentally and emotionally, news of the lovely meadows with luxuriant tall grass of every shade of green and a myriad of animal life—deer, panther, elk, and cougar—stirred him.
Without hesitation, he decided to move his wife and small family to the new community in Middle Tennessee, this place called Jefferson, where it had been rumored that corn grew 10 feet high. Indeed, seeking the land of prosperity across the mountains was the way out. So he packed his family in a wooden cart and traversed across the mountain through the wilderness with bright anticipation. He was confident that a change of environment would better his family and be the cure for the emptiness that filled his suspicious heart.
With great accomplishment, Settler staked his claim, swung his ax all with his good arm, and built his homestead on the immense, undeveloped land near the Stones River. As the years passed, hard work along with Settler’s resourceful ingenuity brought him prosperity.
Now, years after the Revolution as settlement became a reality and prospered, like Settler, it was the winter of life for those aging warriors. At a tavern in Jefferson (near present-day Smyrna), along with many other valiant soldiers, Settler would stay for hours by a wild raging fire drinking and telling tales. The tavern had become a gathering place where neighborhood news was exchanged and stories of battle valor were told. As the whiskey tinged the palate on the way to the stomach, their escapades were enhanced with the aid of the “half-pints.”
The soldiers, lost in vengeance and disdain, would call for more drink, fighting the battles all over again and demonstrating their great hate for the “Red Coats,” their former enemy. Slinging their drinks into the air, Settler and his companions would often gulp the whiskey one after another. Some would sing lively tunes brought across the mountains. As they drank, only for a moment, the numbing effect bolstered their self-esteem, yet under the veneer continued the rage and contempt.
After pinching a twist of tobacco, Settler began to rub his hand anxiously over his contorted arm, a daily reminder of the physical wounds from the War. Now, in the light of a roaring fire, he was meditating and contemplating his transforming experience at the camp meeting. So at the moment, he certainly was not interested in joining his boisterous friends in the tavern. In one breath at that camp meeting, he knew that he had been changed.
Only days before, while walking home, he found himself being drawn to the voice—a dynamic, energetic voice. In the open brush arbor, a tall towering figure wearing a black double-breasted coat, short breeches and long stockings with his hair parted in the middle, hanging to shoulder length, began to speak. Like many frontier preachers energized by boundless zeal and passion, this man, “a circuit rider,” had traveled for miles, surviving insurmountable situations in pursuit of the lost souls. There in the clearing was this confident, austere individual swinging his arms into the air, declaring loudly, “Behold, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world.”
Although a large, limestone slab was his sanctuary, outcroppings were the benches for his congregation, and piles of protruding rocks formed his pulpit, it seemed as if some divine light flashed all around him. In a clearing, a large crowd was gathered—some on stumps, some in wagons, some standing on fallen trees. Vivid harmonies, throngs of a cappella voices emanated through the backwoods with such single-minded clarity that it seemed as if it came from one voice. He was familiar with the song they were singing, “Amazing Grace.”
Local schoolchildren have the opportunity to explore music through the decades as part of the Macon Music series.
“Amazing Grace” was well-known across early America in the form of Sacred Harp. Sacred Harp singing was a style of music that flourished and spread across the frontier, particularly in the South. Sacred Harp singers viewed their tradition as a participatory one, not a passive one. Those who gathered for a singing sang for themselves and for each other, and not for an audience. Sacred Harp singing schools developed as a part of the religious experience locally. By the 1950s, Murfreesboro had become one of the most prestigious places for singing schools that perpetuated the sacred harp, “shape-note” style.
Building his homestead, Settler had conquered the wilderness throughout the wind, hail, snow, and rain. Suddenly, as the high-pitched preacher’s words sliced through the hum and harmony, something clicked within. He had come to the end of himself, that place where his self-determined ways were not effective in ending the storms of life, the guilt, the shame and the pain of the past. As the determined voice continued, the concept of being lost became a reality to Settler.
With the Bible in one hand and the hymnbook in the other, the preacher urged the congregation with a melting, tearful voice, “Take the cross, no matter what has happened to you. Thy sins are forgiven!”
For Settler, all of a sudden his blood rushed to his head, his heart palpitated. So, unprepared and overcome with emotion, Settler fell to his knees and began to sob. There in the misty solitude near a stream cooled by the morning air, conversion occurred. As Settler wept and prayed in agony he said, “Now, Lord, if there is mercy for me, let me find it.”
Now, just a few days later in the tavern, he was back in the same routine, repeating the insanity cycle and about to engage in his former ways. Yet there by the warmth of the fire as his rowdy friends got louder and more out of control, Settler pulled out a worn, leather-bound Testament, a gift from his mother years before. His mind had convinced him the devil himself was singing and mocking him for his decision, yet there was no doubt that an unexplainable change had occurred: the fearful, destructive thoughts that had poisoned and tormented him for years were indeed leaving. In one breath at that camp meeting, he knew that he had been changed. No longer was he controlled by the angry emotions and the memory of how his closest family members had been slaughtered by the hand of the British. He could forgive!
Apparently, as he was reaching in faith to find this God that the preacher had spoken about, gradually and simultaneously, he understood, and his doubt was being replaced by hope. Somehow, he was not the same. The feeling of being lost was replaced by hope.
As Settler walked outside, trying to escape the confusion inside the tavern, he left his former friends and lifestyle behind. The trees, the leaves, everything seemed more alive and vivid. The preacher’s enthusiasm was contagious, and he was determined to find that in his own life. At last, he was experiencing new life, what it means to be alive!
What links one generation to another? Is it all of mankind’s senseless acts of rebellion and destruction, the sharp line between believing and unbelieving? Could it be that all along, God had a plan to redeem the cruel edges of life that dash away all our hope? Perhaps it is the legacy of faith that links one generation to another. Conceivably, God has a plan to redeem the present through the faith of our ancestors. Just like Settler, only when we are at the end of our self-sufficient, self-determined ways, will we receive by faith the promise, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. This has been the answer all along for past, present, and future generations.
The song, “Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier” is an Irish lament sung in early American times and was brought across the mountains of Western North Carolina through the Cumberland Mountains and into Middle Tennessee. This song expressed the feelings shared by countless young women across the generations in every war throughout history. As with any and all wars, the song’s themes of the separation from loved ones, sense of duty for one’s country and sentiments of the resulting uncertainty, disruption and destitution are all too familiar. Like many tunes in those days, it was sung in taverns and bars. The tune we now know as “America” (My Country ‘Tis of Thee) was also one of these songs. Following the migration of Sacred Harp and shape-note singing into the rural South, many of these secular folk tunes were harmonized and given religious lyrics.
Undeniably, history is a record of change. War involves personal trauma and changes in the lives of the participants across the decades. Only when we study the history of the rich commentary in song do we appreciate the complexity of those turbulent times. As American society moved from its earliest colonial beginnings to the 21st century, the private thoughts of men and women are documented in its music. No less through the generations, the private side of our community, Murfreesboro, was changed by larger events and political movements as well.
Music is rightly called the universal language because it is successful in communicating ideas to the masses. The power of music lies in its ability to influence the hearer. Throughout the ages, music has been embedded in our daily lives here in Murfreesboro. Music wove its images and emotions through our thoughts and actions, often birthing the very images and ideas suggested in the lyrics of the song. In the months ahead, “Murfreesboro’s Music through the Decades” will present the aspects of everyday life, and how the music in our community evolved from early settlement times to the 21st century.
James Taylor’s beautiful, sentimental version of “Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier”:
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=james+taylor+johnny+has+gone+for+a+soldier&FORM=VIRE4#view=detail&mid=71E25158FF6620B8D47571E25158FF6620B8D475
