Today marks the death of Abram J. Ryan, the “poet-priest of the South.” Born in Maryland, he was ordained a priest in St. Louis in 1860. An ardent supporter of the South, during the Civil War he served as an un-commissioned chaplain with Confederate troops. His brother’s death in battle affected him deeply. After the war he served in various parishes throughout the South, becoming a major proponent of the “Lost Cause” myth. In addition to editing several Catholic newspapers, he was a popular preacher and writer. But it was as a poet that he was most famous. His poems paid tribute to the Confederacy and its hero dead, including “The Lost Cause” and “The Conquered Banner.” The Catholic Encyclopedia writes:
In the hour of defeat he won the heart of the entire South by his “Conquered Banner,” whose exquisite measure was taken, as he told a friend, from one of the Gregorian hymns. The Marseillaise, as a hymn of victory, never more profoundly stirred the heart of France than did this hymn of defeat the hearts of those to whom it was addressed. It was read or sung in every Southern household, and thus became the apotheosis of the “Lost Cause”. While much of his later war poetry was notable in its time, his first effort, which fixed his fame, was his finest production.
Every schoolboy in the South knew “The Sword of Robert Lee” by heart:
Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright, Flashed the sword of Lee!
Far in the front of the deadly fight,
High o’er the brave in the cause of Right
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light, Led us to Victory!
Out of its scabbard, where, full long,
It slumbered peacefully,
Roused from its rest by the battle’s song,
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong,
Gleamed the sword of Lee!
Forth from its scabbard, high in the air
Beneath Virginia’s sky–
And they who saw it gleaming there,
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear
That where that sword led they would dareTo follow–and to die!
Out of its scabbard! Never hand
Waved sword from stain as free,
Nor purer sword led braver band,
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land had a cause so grand,
Nor cause a chief like Lee!
Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed
That sword might victor be;
And when our triumph was delayed,
And many a heart grew sore afraid,
We still hoped on while gleamed the blade
Of noble Robert Lee!
Forth from its scabbard all in vain
Bright flashed the sword of Lee;
‘Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,
Defeated, yet without stain, Proudly and peacefully!
Ryan died on retreat in 1886 and was buried in Mobile. He has a stained glass window in his honor at New Orleans’ Confederate Museum.