Virginia City 'Flag On Fire' A Spectacle

An American flag used from 1861-63. Public domain.

by Glenn Franco Simmons

Torn from a wooden pole on top of Mount Davidson, an American flag was carried by the fierce wind when it suddenly became illuminated by the setting sun peaking through storm clouds over the rugged Sierras.

The pioneer Virginia City residents could not believe their eyes.

The spectacle was so profound that a famous American female poet took up the challenge and put the experience ~ which captivated countless Comstock Lode onlookers ~ to inspiring patriotic poetry.

This post reveals her long-lost poem, as well as the four American flags, any one of which may have been the flag torn asunder, because all were in some form of use at the time.

C.C. Goodwin* mentions, in passing, the poem titled “The Flag On Fire” by Anna M. Fitch in his literary fictional masterpiece titled “The Comstock Club.”

He notes that in July 1863, a heavy storm with thunder descended upon the pioneer mining outpost. One can almost imagine it happening.

“… As the sun was disappearing behind Mount Davidson, the clouds broke and rolled away from the west,” writes Goodwin of the fictional event, “while at the same time a faint rainbow appeared in the East, making one of those beautiful spectacles common to mountainous regions.

“At the same time the flag on Mount Davidson caught the beams from the setting sun and stood out a banner of fire. This, too, is not an unfrequent spectacle in Virginia City, and long ago inspired a most gifted lady to write a very beautiful poem, ‘The Flag on Fire.’”

Mount Davidson, July 24, 2011. © Glenn Franco Simmons. CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.

“From the summit of Mount Davidson, looking westward from Virginia City, Nevada, float the stars and stripes,” Ms. Fitch writes. “On the evening of July 30th, 1863, upon the breaking away of a storm, this banner was suddenly illuminated by some curious refraction of the rays of the setting sun. Thousands of awe-struck persons witnessed the spectacle, which continued until the streets of Virginia, 1500 feet below, were in utter darkness.”

At a time when there were sympathizers of The Union or the Confederacy in Virginia City, the poem was sure to inflame the pride of patriotism in the hearts of those who supported The Union and not in those who supported The Confederate States of America.

The poem is cast in a reverential, almost religious, style that seems to indicate a feeling among some observers that the illumination of the Stars and Stripes was somehow divinely ordained and proof that the United States of America would continue to prosper and be victorious in The Civil War.

What no writer mentioned was which American flag was atop Mount Davidson.

The Flag On Fire

by Anna M. Fitch

Up the somber

Silent chamber

Of the silver-seamed Sierra,

Where the Pi-ute

Roams in quiet

And the eagle spreads her eyrie ~

Climbed on our flag, and sat in splendor

Climbed our flag, and sat in splendor

Thronged with elemental wonder.

Flushed with warning,

Dawned the morning,

O’er Nevada’s gold-girt canons

While momentous

Clouds portentous

Beat aloft their dusky pinions,

And the lengthening day slow wheeling

‘Neath its swarthy height was reeling

Now the marring

Lightning scarring,

Cleaves the mailed front of heaven,

Sifting, shifting,

Drifting, rifting,

Clouds capricious course till even,

So the swarthy army marches,

Conquering through the shadowy arches.

An American flag used from 1861-63. Public domain.

Cloud-bemantled,

Storm-ensandled,

Droops the flag, all gloom-encompassed,

Now unfurling,

Waltzing, whirling,

To the music of the tempest —

While aloft the dark-browed legion

Marshals through the storm-wrapped region.

Now the crumbling

Shadows, tumbling

Into silver-skirted showers

Lo! Upbuildered

From the gilded

Eastern crags, a rainbow towers;

Linked with Carson’s purple fountain,

Circling the desert, vale and mountain.

Fire! Fire!

Fire! Fire!

Who has set the flag on fire?

What vile traitor

By Creator

Spurned, thus dare defy despair?

God of prophecy and power,

Stay the omen of the hour.

An American flag used from 1863-65. Wikipedia. Public domain.

Oh! the splendor,

Oh! The wonder,

To the worshipping beholder!

Gathering, glowing

Flaming, flowing

Skyward — fiercer, freer, bolder

Burn the beating stars of empire,

Lit by traitor-torch, nor camp-fire.

Blood nor palette,

More than all that,

Mid those starry embers linger;

Tis an omen

Sent to no man —

Signet on an unseen finger —

Prophecy from heaven’s own portal,

Borne by winged worlds immortal.

Now circling

Darkness purpling,

Plumes the rock-ribbed mountain hoary;

Yet the hallowed,

Flag unpillowed,

Burns aloft in stilly glory;

Wonder-mute, no man inveigheth;

Peace, be still! a nation prayeth.

An American flag used from 1863-65. Public domain.

Anyway, V.C. fans, more about Mrs. Fitch, if you are interested. In an obituary about Ms. Fitch published in “Paradise of the Pacific” Vols. 16-18 (Jan. 1, 1903), her literary accomplishments were noted.

“… She had literary tastes, and in the exercise of her talents displayed genius,” according to the publication. “One particular poem she wrote, … titled ‘The Song of the Flume,’ was regarded by William Cullen Bryant as classic. She also wrote ‘The Flag on Fire,’ ‘Over the Hill,’ ‘The Loves of Paul Fenly,’ and ‘Bound Down’ — a book of Fate.

“She caught a good deal of her inspiration from the scenes, the incidents and the romances of the great Pacific Slope, where most of her life was spent. With her husband she wrote ‘Better Days,’ or a ‘Millionaire of Tomorrow,’ a tale of the present period dealing somewhat with the labor interests.”

I encourage you to visit the Nevada Women's Project to read more of Mrs. Fitch’s bio, as well as others’ stories.

“How did she acquire such literary stature?” the project asks? “Anna’s most important influence was her husband, Thomas Fitch. Fitch was a wanderer searching for his life’s goal; that of a U.S. Senator or Territorial Governor, a pinnacle of political success which he never seemed to find. He was fortunate in his searching that he met a young San Francisco author, Anna Mariska Shultz, and he married her there on January 1, 1863.

“At this point her geographical world expanded far beyond her wildest imagination. She moved with Tom to all the Western territories (including Hawaii) and numerous states well over 20 times as he sought that elusive U.S. Senator position or governorship of a territory. Even though he attained the high rank of a U.S. Congressman from Nevada, that wasn’t enough. An orator with a keen mind, he seemed to have no equal, and he became known far and wide as the ‘Silver Tongued Fitch.’

“However, by the prestige Anna achieved in the literary field, it seems to prove that he met his match intellectually. Anna achieved her success as she relentlessly moved from one home to another, for Tom felt it was necessary to purchase a home and establish residency in every move to show that he was serious about being a permanent resident. Setting up one household, or even several, could be considered average for a married couple. Setting up the number of households she had to and still making time for writing, as well as anti-suffrage activities and other social involvements, would be considered superhuman, even by today’s standards.”

(*Editor’s Notes: C.C. Goodwin’s book has some racial epithets in it. However, society has advanced and matured. My post is not an endorsement of such views but an endorsement of Mr. Goodwin’s masterpiece, “The Comstock Club.”

(The 1860 black-and-white Virginia City and Mount Davidson photograph was taken from the Gould and Curry Mine. It is part of the Lawrence & Houseworth Series titled: “Album Views of Nevada.” Courtesy University of Nevada, Reno. Photo of Mrs. Fitch, public domain, courtesy of Wikipedia.)