And a day or two after, the Singers had a proud revenge.
Mrs. Julia Ward Howe's stirring lyric, "The Battle-hymn of the Republic," was on the programme, to be sung to the air of "John Brown." The first verses were to be taken by some coloured singers of Boston. But, for some unexplained reason, the key was given to the orchestra in E flat, cruelly high under such circumstances, and the first verses were a painful failure. The Jubilee Singers were to come in with the verse beginning,
"He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat."
Fired by the remembrance of their reception on the previous day, and feeling that to some extent the reputation of their colour was at stake, they sang as if inspired. Mr. White's masterly drill had made easy to them the high notes on which the others had failed. Every word of that first line rang through the great Coliseum as if sounded out of a trumpet. The great audience were carried away on a whirlwind of delight; the trained musicians in the orchestra bent forward in forgetfulness of their parts; and one old German was conspicuous, holding his violincello above his head with one-hand, and whacking out upon it his applause with the bow held in the other.
When the grand old chorus, "Glory, glory, hallelujah," followed, with a swelling volume of music from the great orchestra, the thunder of the bands, and the roar of the artillery, the scene was indescribable.
