February 1, 2026

February 1st, 2026

On February 1st, 1862, in the early days of the Civil War, the Atlantic monthly published

Julia Wardhaus battle him of the Republic, summing up the cause of freedom for which

the United States troops would soon be fighting.

My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, it began.

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword.

His truth is marching on.

How had written the poem on a visit to Washington, D.C. with her husband?

Approaching the city, she had reflected sadly that there was little she could do for the

United States.

She couldn't send her menfolk to war, her husband was too old to fight, her sons too

young.

And with a toddler, she didn't even have enough time to volunteer to pack stores for

the field hospitals.

I thought of the women of my acquaintance, whose sons or husbands were fighting our great

battle, the women themselves serving in the hospitals, or busying themselves with the

work of the sanitary commission she recalled, and she worried there was nothing she could

give to the cause.

One day, she, her husband and friends toward the troop encampments surrounding the city.

To amuse themselves on the way back to the hotel, they sang a song popular with the troops

as they marched.

It ended, John Brown's body lies a moldering in the grave, his soul is marching on.

A friend challenged how to write more uplifting words for the soldier's song.

That night, how slept soundly, she woke before dawn, and lying in bed began thinking about

the tune she had heard the day before.

She recalled, as I lay waiting for the dawn, the long lines of the desired poem began to

twine themselves in my mind.

With a sudden effort, I sprang out of bed and found in the dimness an old stump of a pen.

I scrawled the verses almost without looking at the paper.

Those him captured the tension of Washington, D.C. during the war, and the soldier's

camps strung in circles around the city to keep invaders from the U.S. capital.

I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps.

They have built him an altar in the evening, do's, and damps.

I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.

His day is marching on.

This battle him of the republic went on to define the civil war as a holy war for human

freedom.

In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bosom

that transfigures you and me, as he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,

while God is marching on.

The battle him became the anthem of the union during the civil war, and exactly three years

after it appeared in the Atlantic Monthly, on February 1st, 1865, President Abraham Lincoln

signed the Joint Resolution of Congress, passing the 13th Amendment and sending it off to

the States for ratification.

The amendment provided that neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment

for crime, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United

States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

It gave Congress power to enforce that amendment.

This was the first amendment that gave power to the federal government, rather than taking

it away.

When the measure had passed the House the day before, the lawmakers and spectators had

gone wild.

The members on the floor hazarded in chorus with deafening and equally emphatic cheers

of the throng in the galleries the New York Times reported.

The ladies in the dense assemblage waved their handkerchiefs, and again and again the applause

was repeated, intermingled with clapping of hands and exclamations of hurrah for freedom,

glory enough for one day, and so on.

The audience were wildly excited, and the friends of the measure were jubilant.

The Anna Congressman George Julian later recalled, it seemed to me I had been born into

a new life, and that the world was overflowing with beauty and joy, while I was inexpressibly

thankful for the privilege of recording my name on so glorious a page of the nation's

history.

But the hopes of that moment had crumbled within a decade.

Students from Bennett College, a women's college in Greensboro, North Carolina, set out

to bring them back to life.

They organized to protest the FW Woolworth companies willingness to sell products to black

people, but refusal to serve them food.

On February 1, 1960, their male colleagues from North Carolina Agricultural and Technical

State University sat down on the stools at Woolworth's department store lunch counter

in Greensboro.

David Richmond, Franklin McCain, Ezell A. Blair Jr., and Joseph McNeil were first-year

students who wanted to find a way to combat the segregation under which black Americans

had lived since the 1880s.

So the men forced the issue by sitting down and ordering coffee and donuts.

They sat quietly as the white waitress refused to serve them and the store manager ignored

them.

They came back the next day with a larger group.

This time, television cameras covered the story.

By February 3, there were 60 men and women sitting.

By February 5, there were 50 white male counter protesters.

By March, the city movement had spread across the south to bus routes, museums, art galleries,

and swimming pools.

In July, after profits had dropped dramatically, the store manager of the Greensboro Woolworths

asked four black employees to put on street clothes and order food at the counter.

They did and they were served.

Desegregation in public spaces had begun.

In 1976, President Gerald Ford officially recognized February 1 as the first day of

black history month, asking the public to seize the opportunity to honor the two often

neglected accomplishments of black Americans in every area of endeavor throughout our history.

On February 1, 2023, the family of Tyree Nichols laid their 29-year-old son to rest in

Memphis, Tennessee.

He was so severely beaten by police officers on January 7, allegedly for a traffic violation

that he died three days later.

On February 1, 2026, as we mark the 50th anniversary of the first black history month, government

officials under the administration of Donald J. Trump have just removed an exhibit on enslavement

from Independence National Historical Park in Philadelphia.

The exhibit acknowledged nine people enslaved at the president's house site when President

George Washington lived there.

Curators intended the exhibit to examine the paradox between slavery and freedom in the

founding of the nation, but it conflicted with Trump's March 2025 order that National

historic sites should focus on the greatness of the achievements and progress of the American

people.

In his order, Trump called out Independence National Historical Park for promoting corrosive

ideology, teaching visitors that America is purportedly racist.

The administration is openly working to replace American multiculturalism with white nationalism,

launching raids by federal agents to terrorize brown and black Americans, as well as white

Americans who reject mega-ideology.

On Saturday, in Minneapolis, where federal agents from immigration and customs enforcement

and border patrol are attacking immigrants and those marching to end the violence of the

federal agents, people entered a target store to protest the retail chains cooperation

with federal agents.

In Unison, they sang, we the people stand together.

We the people stand together.

The words were set to the tune of the battle hymn of the Republic.

Letters from an American was written and read by Heather Cox Richardson.

It was produced at Soundscape Productions, Dead and Massachusets, recorded with music

composed by Michael Moss.