FITZ -GREENE HALLECK
A MEMORIAL
F,S. Cozzens
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
DAVIS
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FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. A
MEMORIAL
Frederic S. Cozzens
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FITZ-GREEtfE HALLECK.
A MEMORIAL.
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FITZ-GREENE HALLECK
A MEMORIAL.
MR. DcYCKEfoc, the Chairman of the Committee to which I hare the
honor to belong, has prepared some resolution*, expressive of the sin
cere grief which this Society feels at the recent decease of Frrz-G RHLVE
HALLCCK. It devolve* upon me, in accordance with a time-honored
custom, to introduce them with a brief review of the career of our late
illustrious associate. I am aware, however, of an increasing hoarseness,
which will prevent mo addressing yon in person ; and as our excellent
librarian, Mr. MOOBE, has, at my solicitation, promised to take the load
off my shoulders, I am only too happy to band these papers to him.
Tins is A NEW YORK HISTORICAL SOCIETY. It is a
living register of deeds and men. From its accumula
tions of the records of the past of the records of our
common Country in general we torn with more af
fectionate interest to those themes which are peculiar
ly local) to those acts which have added a lustre to
this city, to those actors who have lived, and breath
ed, and moved among us ; who have formed a part
of our crowded streets, and our busy thoroughfares.
4 FmGREKXE JlAHJlCIC.
If Longfellow should die, the ntreeta of Boston
would be draped in mourning ! But although we
display no outward signs of grief, we feel not less
keenly, that there is a vacant space among us ; that
a statue has fallen from its familiar pedestal ; that a
spark of immortal fire has !x;en quenched forever ;
and that he who used to he, peculiarly, the intellect
ual soul and centre of this vast metropolis, now lies
silent, in a narrow grave, at Guilford !
A brief biographical sketch, collected from various
sources, may l>e not uninteresting.
Fitz-Grccne llalleck was born in Guilford, Con
necticut, July 3th, 1700. On his mother'* ride, lie
was descended from the famous John Eliot, u the
Apostle to the Indians," and his* father filled an in
considerable position, during the Revolutionary war,
under Sir Henry Clinton. " My father," said llalleck
to me, " was a British Commissary. But I am inclined
to believe that this high-sounding title was a fiction.
British and other commissaries, in the army, usually
accumulate fortunes ; but as my father made nothing
out of the war, I think he must have been a tnthr.
And my opinion is," continued he, " that as a sutleq
transacts his business upon his own capital, and a
commissary draws his funds from the military chest,
that the chances of being an honest man are in favor
offltetntkrl*
In 1814 we find Mr. llalleck a clerk of Jacob
Barker. The late Daniel Embury, formerly Presi
dent of the Atlantic Bank of Brooklyn, at that time
was Mr. Barker's cashier. He always spoke of llal
leck with almost boyish affection. " When I found,"
paid he, u that Jacob Barker's affairs were in such a
state that an honest cashier conld not remain with
him, I spoke to Hal leek about them, for I had deter
mined to leave his office, and urged him to do BO like
wise. But Halleck replied, 'Xo ! I will not desert
the sinking slip; I will remain at my post When
misfortune comes, that is the very time to stand by
one's friends.' And so," said Mr. Embury, tt I left
the office of Mr. Barker, and entered into the employ
of John Jacob Astor. Some years after, Halleck fol
lowed me. By-and-by he rose to V Astor's chief
book-keeper and confidential clerk."
It is very well known that Mr. Astor left Mr.
Halleck in his will, when tlie latter was in the height
of his fame, and pretty well advanced in years, an an
nuity of two hundred dollars. It is very well known,
also, that Mr. Win. B. Astor added to this a gift of
ten thousand dollars. It was the first gift ever given
by a wealthy man to a poet, in this country. It was
certainly noble and generous. Opulence often pays
thousands of dollars for a picture, to secrete in a pri
vate gallery ; but the greater artist, the Poet, whose
works ennoble mankind, is too often forgotten.
I asked Mr. Embury, one day, why it was that
John Jacob Astor had left Halleck, his faithful clerk,
only this trifling sum. * 4 1 think I can explain that,*
he said. u Halleck often used to joke Mr. Astor about
his accumulating income, and perhaps rather rashly
said, * Mr. Astor, of what use is all this money to you ?
I would be content to live upon a coupls of hundreds
a-year, for the rest of my life, if I was only sure of it.'
The old man remembered that," said Mr. Embury,
$
u and with a bitter satire, reminded Halleck of it in
The commercial life of Halleck is interesting, in
somuch that it exhibits a chivalric sense of duty, and
a noble disinterestedness. His first experience in
New York brought him in contact with much subtle
trickery and artful maneuvering ; his later years ex
posed him to all the allurements which the accumu
lation of vast wealth, under his eyes, could furnish.
But he was superior to either ; and could alike hon
estly stand by Jacob Barker amid the wreck of his
financial machinery, and indulge in quiet Kin-asms
on John Jacob Astor while the latter was building
his colossal fortune.
In fa<;t, ht h'i'l a platform of hi* own, and he
tsto&l itj>on iff Money, whether honestly or dis
honestly acquired, had no part in his aspirations.
His birth-gift was poetry. He was a poet born,
not made by circumstances. Not that ho despised
wealth, not that he despised rank, not that he des
pised power.
"No a born poet ; it hi* cradle-fire
The Mufc nurpHl him a* their bud unblown,
Aud gare him, as lib mind grew tnjh and A^Vr,
Their ducal Btrawbcrnr leaf* enwreathcd renown."
It was that wreath he coveted. He wrought for
it earnestly, he won it honestly, but in his sweet hu
mility he never wore it.
One of the greatest charms of Halleck's character
was his innate modesty. lie did not care to rush
into print In the earlier part of his life, his poems
were published anonymously. Like Irving, and
A MEMORIAL. 7
Drake, and Bryant, with a true gentlemanly instinct,
he shrank from popular applause. But when the
author of u Fanny,* and the co-author of the u Croak
ers," could no longer preserve his disguise ; when his
old publisher, Coleman, broke the seals of secresy,
and he stood revealed ; when he was sought after by
the best society in New York, (and what a brilliant
society it was in those grand old days !) when he
was exposed to all the adulations of fashion, wealth,
and intellect, he preserved his quiet balance, his
modest, gentlemanly demeanor, and lived and moved
an example worthy of imitation. When we reflect
that, ut this time, 1 hillock was the most popular
poet in the country, for Drake was dead and Bryant
scarcely known, and that no other American poet
could be called his rival, we may well admire that
unpretending modesty which always formed the chief
charm in his character. Upon one occasion, in after-
years, when he was invited to a brilliant party in
New York, he declined the invitation, and said, quiet-*
ly, to a friend, " I always avoided notoriety in my
earlier days, and I am too old a lion now to shake
my mane in a lady's drawing-room."
"While I have made the endeavor to bring before
you a faint sketch of the character of the man, which
you have done me the honor to invite me to elucidate,
permit me to give a glance at the opposite of such a^
poet, and show you a Poet's Critic.
There is a class of unfortunates in this and in other
literary countries, who, although blest with undoubted
genius, are compelled by Fate and Publishers to
blossom once a month. They are known by Gods and
8 Fm-GREEys HALLECK.
Men as Magazine critics. They are the Euclids of
imaginative composition, and reduce every thing in
the sphere of fancy to a demonstration. Twelve
times a year do these "inglorious Miltons" appear
upon the surface of the earth. Twelve times a year
are they quietly buried.
As time rolls on, Posterity rakes among the
ashes of the Past for some live coals of genius, but
it never disturbs the dust of critics. A magazine a
month old is very old indeed. It is true, that some
undiscriminating persons invoke the aid of the book
binder, and preserve these volumes, persons with
palatial residences, and a yawning chaos of shelves in
that part of the mansion which the architect has set
apart as The Library. Its lower rounds are filled
with standard works ; and then the Magazines, in rich
bindings, are high uplifted above the topmost round
of the library-ladder. There in dust and cobwebs
row on row the serried volumes stand ! never to
*be disturbed except by the Auctioneer.
Prominent among the contributors to these luckless
volumes are the literary critics. They vainly imagine
that they have been hewing their way to the fore
most rank in public opinion. 15y detracting from
the reputation of those who have earned their bitter
laurels amidst toil, and poverty, and privation they
presume that the path to that glorious Temple is open
and secure to them. It is a most unfortunate mis
take. The true path for an American author to take
is not to under-ratc " Fanny * or the " Croaker?," not
to show how " Alnwick Castle " or "Marco Bozzaris n
might have been improved, if the creator of these
A MEMORIAL. 9
poems bad only been instructed properly in metre
by the modest reviewer, but to write a poem equal
to any of them. That there are faults in these compo
sitions may be true. But we may as well remember
also, that although a thousand nameless architects
have written essays to show how the Leaning Tower
of Pisa should have l>ecn built, it still continues to
hold its reputation as one of the Seven Wonders of
the world, and still continue* to lean.
Pardon this digression, and let me return to the
direct path.
" The Evening Twilight of the Heart," an exquisite
poem, was published in the Evening Post, in Octo
ber, 1818. Bryant's " Thanatopsis" preceded this
poem two years.
These we may call the corner-stones of American
Poetry, hewn from the native quarry.
But the first efforts of genius do not always invoke
the dear delightful responses of applauding thou
sands. Those who toil in the republic of letters
often waste the midnight sweat of the brow in vain ;
at least, many years elapse before they are recog
nized.
Bryant's " Thanatopsis," and I falleck's "Twilight
of the Heart," fell dead upon the public ear; for po
etic taste had as yet been little cultivated in our
country, forty years ago.
It is true that Philip Freneau, that brave old son
of New York ! had written some admirable poems
during the Revolutionary war, some lines of which
Byron, Campbell, and Scott did not hesitate to
appropriate.
10 FmQRXEsrx HALLECK.
M The Boater and the Deer, * shade,"
was adopted by Campbell,
She wlk* the water 8k ft thing of Uf,"
was gathered under the wing of Byron.
And Sir Walter Scott, in the introduction to the
Third Canto of Marmion, made use of a striking
image of our poet. Scott's lines are :
"When PHI*,!* harried to the field
And snatched the fpcarbut left tb shield.*
But in Freneau's poem on the battle of Eutair, he
says:
"They saw tbeir injured country** woe,
The flaming tovn*, the wasted fields,
They rushed to meet th* insulting foe.
They took the ptar but left the shield."
It is pleasing to recall these few lines of an ancient
Knickerbocker poet. They are perhaps the only lines
that were ever stolen in those days by eminent Brit
ish authors, from this side of the Atlantic.
But the ode "To Ennui," published in the N. Y.
Evening Post, March 10th, 1810, and written by
another Knickerbocker poet, Dr. Joseph Hodman
Drake, and signed u Croaker," was the spark that
first fired the poetic train in America. This was
followed the next day by another playful strain from
the same pen, entitled " On prettiiting the Freedom
of tie City in a Gold Box to a great General? the
great General being Andrew Jackson, afterwards
President of the United States, as some of the oldest
members of the Historical Society may remember.
On the very next day appeared the " Secret Jfine"
A MEMORIAL. 11
alluding to the toast of General Jackson at the Tain-
many Dinner ; on the next day appeared the tt Epittle
to Mr. Potter, tfo Vtntriloquitt ; " on the next day,
" T/te Lattery War? all written by Dr. Drake ; and
on the same day (the 15th of ^larch), Halleck's Ad
dress to Mr. Simpson, then manager of the old Park
Theatre, signed Croaker, jr., and on the day after that,
Drake's invitation to his unknown rival, proposing
to make a pcetical firm, as appears by the well-
known verses :
TO CROAKER, JR.
M Tour Land, in j dear Junior ! we're all in a flame
To KM? a few more of your flashes !
The Croaken for ever ! I'm proud of the name,
But brother, I fear, though our cause i* the nine,
We altall quarrel like ttrutus and Cataiu*.
" But why should we do eo ! 'Us false what they teO,
That poets ran never be cronies ;
Vnbuckle your harness, in peace let us dwell,
Our goose-quilts will canter together as well
As a pair oi Prime's mouse-colored ponies.
* Once blended in M .int. well make our appeal,
And by law be incorporate too ;
Apply for a charter in crackers to deal,
A fly-flapper rampant shall fhine on our seal,
And the firm shall be Croaker & Co.
Fun ! prosper the Union smile, Fate, on iU birth;
Miss Atropoc, shut up your scbeors;
Together well range through the regions of mirth,
A pair of bright Gemini, dropt on the earth,
The Castor and Pollux of quixze.-a."
IB this local ? The only allusion in it to New York,
is Prime's mouse-colored ponies. But the head of
the firm of Prime, Ward fc King, famous bankers in
12 FmGRERy* HALI.BCK.
those days, would Lave no objection for his name to
be sent down to posterity in a note, in the appendix
to this moat musical poem.
As I have said before, the first Croaker paper was
published in the Evening Post, MarchHtOtb, 1S19^__
The epistle rt To Croaker, Junior,' 1 saw the light on
the 1 Oth of the same month. But besides these daily
contributions to the Post, Drake had written a poem,
and Hallcck had written another, for the Ifationttl
A million, but a man of a million, and in
this case the indefinite article is of greater value than
the definite. 9 *
Upon the same occasion he referred to one or two
luckless orators, who, in attempting to eulogize a man
; whose genius they did not comprehend, fell into some
ludicrous mistakes. In alluding to this he said, "Poor
Burns ! he belonged to the militia, and his last dying
request was, 4 Don't let the awkward squad fire over
my grave.' The other night, at that dinner, the awk
ward squad were firing away over his gravo just as
hard as ever." In his opinion, Faulconbridge in King
John was Shakespeare's greatest creation the most
A IfKXORIAL. 19
|
truthful, ehivalric, and original. Upon one occasion
Halleck told me that he had not received over a
thousand dollars in all his life, for all his writings.
This was before he had received the handsome sum of
five hundred dollars from Mr. Bonner, of the "Ledg
er," for Young America. " My first publisher failed,"
said he, ** and this deterred me from venturing upon a
literary life, and placed me in a counting-room.'"
He had a qm*i admiration for lecturers. " I was in
New Haven the other day, r Halleck said, lifting his
hat with that deferential air which always made a
point in his discourses, " I was in New Haven, and you
know that New Haven is to Connecticut, what Bos
ton is to Massachusetts the intellectual centre of the
State. The ladies of New H.iven are highly educated,
literary women, and as charming as any ladies can
IKJ anywhere. Well, one of these charming ladies
said to me, 'Oh, Mr. Halleck ! you should have been
here a few evenings ago ! We had such a delightful
time! Mr. Curtis was here, and he gave us a lecture
upon Sydney Smith. It was an evening to be re
membered a perfect feast of good things, and we
listened to every word that dropped from his lips as
if they were perfect pearls.'" And here Halleck, lift
ing his hat, as if he were addressing the lady in
question, said, " Curtis is a very promising, good fel
low ; perhaps sometime hereafter he may make his
mark; but pray tell me, which Sydney Smith was
the subject of the lecture?- Was it the hero of St.
Jean d* Acre, or the eminent clergyman of the Edin
burgh Review, the Dean of St. Paul'*, and the wit,
whose writings are so celebrated ? Upon which," said
20 Fm-GRERSB JlAU.KCK.
Halleck, with that familiar roll of the Bat, "the lady
hesitated, dropped her eyca, and replied, * Mr. llalleck,
I do not know which of them it wan, but I know it
was one of tit w? And so," said Jlalleck, u I took some
pains to inquire, and I found out that the lecture was
not about either of the Sydney Smiths, but a lecture
on Sir Philip Sydney."
Halleck's admiration of the genius of Byron was
such as only a poet can appreciate^ " You know," said
he, u that Shakespeare has said, in King John,
* To pild refined jrold, to paint th lilt.
To Oi row a iH-rfumc on the violet.
To smooth the ice, or add another huo
I'uto the rniiilio,c>r 'uh taper-light
To xcck the bcauteou* *; of Hcarcn to jraruUh,
I* wasteful and ridiculous CXCVM ;*
but Byron has gilt refined gold and added a perfume
to the violet ; he has thrown a charm over the sculp
tures of ancient Greece and Rome : in the dying
gladiator, he recalls the 'bought* of 'his young
barbarians there at play upon the banks of the fur-oft*
Danube;' and again, too, 'the goddess lives in stone;*
what a line that is ! and over all the structures on
the castellated Rhine, over Italy, Spain, and ancient
and modern Europe, he has added a charm to art,
and thrown a perfume on the violets of history, with
out * wasteful or ridiculous excess.' When you go
to Rome, when you travel up the Rhine, take Childe
Ilarold with you."
If Halleck did not have a great admiration of
publishers and booksellers, perhap* it sprung from
the tuition of his commercial life. lie said to me one
day, u The best part of my life was spent in a count-
21
ing-room. I know what ' account-sales ' means* and I
never could get an * account-sales' from my publishers.*
Upon one occasion, when I met him in the
magnificent bookstore of one of the prominent pub
lishers, and the principal of the firm was present, he
said, with that familiar lifting of the hat, after the
few preliminary remarks, "By the way, do you
remember the story of Dr. Samuel Johnson dining
falrind the #crtii? It is related that Dr. Johnson
was invited by his publisher to diue with him, at the
great table, when all the big wigs were to lx present.
But Dr. Johnson declined, und took his dinner in
quiet, behind a screen. The common story is, that
Johnson excused himself, because his clothes were
too shabby to appear before such high company.
That is a historical mistake; Dr. Johnson, by his
learning, by his genius, by his intellectual birth-gift,
was a gentleman ; and as a gentleman, he would not
dine with a publisher!"
"When he was sitting to Elliott for his portrait,
the latter said to him, "Mr. Ilalleek, when you were
in England, you no doubt saw some of the eminent
poets whom you admire so much, how did you like
Wordsworth 2" "I did not see him," was the reply.
44 Well, of course you saw your favorite Campbell ? "
a No, I did not see Campbell." u Indeed ! but you saw-
Tom Moore I " " No, I did not see any of them. In
fact, I was like Scott's stupid boy. lie went to his
father and said, 'Father, I would like to travel through
Europe to see the world, and I want you to supply
me with the necessary funds for the purpose.' Upon
which his father replied, * What you desire is very
22 Fm-OnKEys HALLECK.
praiseworthy, and a creditable ambition worthy of a
young man, and I would furnish you tbe means, did I
not think your desire to see the world is not so great
as my disinclination to have tie world see you. 1 I
went," said Ilalleck, u to see the world, not to let the
world see me/* (It must be remembered that Ilalleck
visited Europe in 182 ft, before he was generally
known as a writer.) Then he added, " If I went
abroad now, I would have different ideas. If those
great poets were living, I should like to sec them all.'*
When he heard that Browning, the poet, was
married to Miss Elizabeth Barrett, he said, " Ah, I am
glad of it they will be able to understand each
other."
lie told an anecdote of Tom Moore and a Yankee
lx>atman, one day, in illustration of a poet's fume :
Where'er beneath the sk j of Heaven,
The bird* of fame have flown.
It seems the author of the tt Melodic*/* during a
visit to America, had hired a boatman to convey him
aero** Lake Ontario, from Lewisburg to Toronto.
When they reached the latter place, Moore pulled out
his purse to pay the fare, when the boatman, laying
his hand upon the poet's wrist, said, u Not a cent from
you, Tom Moore ! " " Why,**' said Moore, surprised,
u how did you know my name?" "Oh!" said the
boatman, U I read it on your trunk; and me, and my
wife, and my children, all know your Melodies by
heart, and we sing 'em too, and do you think I'd take
a cent from you, Toin Moore I ** "It was the first time
in my life," said Moore, " that I ever felt the fuluess of
A MEMORIAL. 23
fame; it wan the greatest compliment ever paid me
in my life !"
There is DO book like the Old Testament for
poetry. "Study th ancient Hebrew," lie wculd say,
tt These be thy Gods, O Israel ! w
He was annoyed at carping critics, who found
fault with Irving'* Knickerbocker's History of New
York. 4t There was no lxx)k like it ; it was the only
original book of the kind. A travestie of history ! a
travestie of what history! It is original, and full of
Irving's genius. Historians are great pilferers from
one another. A short time ago, I read a history of
the siege of Quebec, in which the author stated that
during the siege they drew the cannon on a *&, and
a short time after, I read a description of the same
event by another historian, which is word for word
like the other one, except that he says they drew the
cannon on a dulye. Now, there is history for you I
Byron has given a good description of a historian.
He says that Mitford is just what a historian ought ta
be. He is full of wrath and partiality ! M
When lie liked a poem lie would copy it off, and
get it by heart, He once gave mo a JKKJIII, " The-
Death of Jacob," an Oxford prize poem, in seventy-
seven stanzas*, of four lines each, with notes, which he
had copied from LittelFs Living Age. He told me once^
that he never put pen to paper until he had finished
the verse. lie always composed while walking,
roaming about the streets of New York, generally at
night
While Hicks was painting his portrait, he saiil,." I
see he has caught that peculiar expression of my
24 Fm-GREXXB HALLKCK.
month, which some of my friends 9217 is like Voltaire a,
half smile, half sneer."
In many a past lionr of uninterrupted intercourse
with him, he never spoke of his own writing?, nor al-
1'idcd to them. If the subject wa* introduced, he
managed to turn the conversation to some other topic.
I shall not venture upon a review of his writings,
but will content myself with alluding to some of the
opinions of his contemporaries as to his literary merits.
James Fenimore Cooper called him u the admirable
Cioaker," and both he and Washington Irving always
spoke of him in warm terras of admiration. Perhaps
the most gratifying tribute paid to him was by Mr.
Bryant, many years ago, in the New York Mirror,
from which I beg leave to quote a few. lines :
" His poetry, whether serious or sprightly, is re
markable for the melody of its numbers. It is not
the melody of monotonous and strictly regular meas
urement. His verse is constructed to please an ear
naturally fine, and accustomed to a range of metrical
modulation. 11
Edgar A. Poe, in rather a harsh criticism upon
his writings, says : " Personally, he is a man to l>e
admired, respected, but more especially beloved.
His address has nil the captivating lonJioinmie which
is the leading feature of his poetry, and, indeed, of
his whole moral nature. "With his friends he is all
ardor, enthusiasm, and cordiality ; but to the world at
large he is reserved, shunning society, into which he
is seduced only with difficulty, and upon rare occa-
ns."
Miss Mitford, in her Recollections of a Literary Life,
A MEMORIAL. 25
pays him a very high compliment, and quotes his
" Young Thoughts have Music in them," from Fanny,
and his lines to Drake.
Samncl Rogers, writing to Irving, in 1837, says:
44 With Mr. IlalleckV Poems I was already acquaint
ed, particularly with the first two in the volume, and
I cannot say how much J admired them always.
They are better than any thing we can do, just now,
on our side the Atlantic. I hope he will not be idle,
but continue long to delight us. "When he comes
here ngain, h.c must not content himself with looking
on the outside of my house, as I am told he did once,
but knock and ring, and ask for me, as for an old ac
quaintance. I should say, indeed, if I am here to be
found ; for if he or you, my dear friend, delay your
coming much longer, I shall have no hope of seeing
cither of you on this side the grave."
Rogers always spoke of Ilalleck, whenever his
name was mentioned, in terms of highest praise. In
the Messrs. Duyckinek's Cyclopaedia of American Lit
erature, there is a fine appreciative notice of him,
which I would gladly quote if time would permit; and
the article contributed by Mr. James Lawson, of this
city, to the Southern Literary Messenger, November
2.5th, 1843, although written with great cordiality,
does not award to Mr. Ilalleck as high a position as
he deserves. It is not assuming too much to say, that
Ilalleck, in his line, has not been approached yet by
any one in this country, and that his line is a very
noble one indeed.
There is one error in regard to Fanny, which
should be corrected. It is generally said of it, that it
26 FlTZ-GnEBXR IlALLECK.
is an imitation of Don Joan. Now, if yon tarn to
Murray's edition of Byron's works, yon will find that
the first part of Don Juan was published in London
in 1819, and if you turn to the edition of "Fanny,"
printed in 1839, you will see that it is reprinted from
the edition of 1821, which had been enlarged and re
printed from the original edition of 1819. So that
u Fanny" was published in the same year with Don
Juan, and, of course, could not Le an imitation. In
fact, Mr. Ilaileck told me that " Fanny " was pub
lished before Don Juan had crossed the Atlantic, aud
that he had adopted the versification of Beppo, one
of Byron's miuor poems. But the story of Beppo is
entirely different from either Fanny or Don Juan.
The last effort of Ilulleck is, I believe, a little epi
grammatic quatrain, which he handed me one day.
It was written in a lady's album :
* AH honor to woman, tb tweet-heart, the wife,
The delight of the firetide by night and by day,
Who never docs any thing wrong in her life,
Except when permitted to have her own way."
Mr. President, and fellow-members of the His
torical Society : I cculd employ your time for some
hours longer upon this interesting theme, but the
hour allotted to me has expired, and I must close
with a brief personal sketch of the subject of this
memorial
Mr. Ilaileck was of medium stature; his real
height was probably five feet nine inches, although a
slight inclination of the body forward, in what might
be called a deferential attitude, made him appear less
tall than he really was. He was always scrupulously
27
neat in his dress and person never over-dressed and
his manners were equally plain and unpretending.
He was totally devoid of affectation, and although shy
of strangers, at times, yet this quality, springing as it
did from an innate modesty, united with the most
perfect good-breeding, seemed rather to set him oft
among strangers, and make them feel more at home
in his society than if he had been over-courteous or
over-familiar. I remember, upon one occasion, when
I had introduced him to a very talkative publisher,
who said, " Have I, at last, the pleasure of taking the
great Mr. Halleck by the hand? an honor I have
coveted ever since I was a boy, and got his poems by
heart," and more of that sort, that Halleck became
suddenly very deaf, put his hand to his ear to try to
make out what was said to him, and with a sad, puzzled
expression on his face, shook his head as if it said, Dear
me, I can't hear a word of all this, what a pity ! and
yet all this was done in such a kindly, gentlemanly
way, that it gave no offence to the person addressing
him. He was always scrupulously correct in hLs deal,
ings, no matter how trifling, and practised the greatest
economy, so as to preserve his independence. He
often used to refer to the fact that Bums, poor as he
was, and a poet to boot, died without owing any oue
a single penny.
u Through care ami pain, and want and voe,
With wound* that only death can heal
Torture*- the poor, alone, can know.
The proud, alone, can Ted,
He kept hi* honest r and truth,
II u independent tongue and pen.
And moved in manhood, as in youth,
Pride of hi* fellow-mcn.-
28 Fm&RERys HALLECK.
In fact, Halleck's admiration of Bums, as a poet,
was second only to his admiration of him as a man.
There was always a faint touch of punctilious po
liteness lingering about Ilalleck, such as we might
imasnne characterized the old French nott&te in
o
their exile, and this accompanied with a never-fail
ing loHltommit) a gentleness of manner, that even in
his old age made women lib friends and children
his companions. But the real characteristics of our
dear friend apj>eared, when he was talking with some
congenial companion about the great poets he loved,
with all the fervor of his soul. Then the doinous
head would seem to have gathered electric fire
from the words that poured from his heart, the
branching veins on his temples would suddenly
shoot out, and swell, and enlarge. Then his blue
eyes would dart out gleams of intellectual light,
the projecting lower jaw would tremble with pas
sion, the lips would quiver, one hand would pound
another with expressive vehemence, and the foot, not
less expressive, would respond, and when the heroic
sentiment was reached, or pathos had carried all be
fore it, then the voice would falter, the eyes fill, and
you felt that the spell of living geniua was upon you.
It has been often said, that Ilalleck'* poems ex
hibit great artifice in their construction, and show the
clearness and polish of laborious composition. This is
partly true, but scarcely any pott knew better than
lie how to reach the highest art of all the art of
concealing art. Like tho Sculptor in Schiller's poem
of tho Ideal and the Actual, lie knew how to use his
implements.
A MEMORIAL. 29
When through dead MOM to breath* a mri fUgirt.
With the dull marble to unite
The kindling geulu*, some great sculptor glow* ;
Behold him training; every nerve intent.
Behold how, oVr the subject-element.
The stately thought with march laborious goes!
For never, MVC to toil untiling, rpoke
The un tiling Truth from her mjrteriou* well
The statue only to the chisel'* stroke,
Wake* from it* marble cell.
M But onward, to the sphere of beauty, go
Onward, O Child of Art! and, lo,
Out of the matter which thy pain* control
The statue springs ! not as with labor wrung.
From the hard block, but as from nothing sprung.
Airy and light the offspring of the soul !
The pangs, the care*, the weary toil* it cost.
Leave not a trace when once the work is done '
.-. The artut's human frailt y merged and lost,
In Art** great victory wou ! "
The lost poem of any lengtli that Halleek wrote
was entitled Young America, a war-lyric, published
in the u New York Ledger," in 18G4. It is a spirited
production, with many very beautiful lines, whose
music recalls some of liis earliest and best verses.
I could interpolate hero many characteristic anec
dotes of Ilalleck, but time warns me that I must con
clude. In one of the last letters I received from him, he
spoke of Mr. James II. Ilackett, and proposed coming
to the city especially to see him, and have a chat with
him. It was prej>osed by Mr. Ilackett to invite
Mr. Ilullcck, Mr. Verplanck, and one or two other
old friends to meet together, and have a good old-
fashioned dinner. Hallcck used to say, u Pretty much
all my old friends are gone except Bryant, Verplanck,
and myself, we are the last of the cocked hats." But
30 Fin-QREBKB UALLECK.
the projected dinner was unhappily interrupted by
the decease of the poet, in whose honor it was in
tended to be given. I met Mr. Hackett and MR
Verplanck, and agreed upon the day when I was to
notify Ilalleck and an hour after that meeting, I
hoard the t*ad newt* of liU death.
I now have the honor to introduce Mr. Duyckinck,
the Chairman of th'w Committee, who will read the
resolution* hu han prepared.
Mr. Di'vcKiNX'K theitMijKm Hubimtted tho follow
ing resolutions, which were adopted unanimously :
j;crsonal worth and amiability of character, the charm of hif en*
livened ronvcreation, and tho grace which hU pretence imi>nrtcd to
-Kvnl life.
7A*./rr, Tliul Wy. Cri.i.KX HIIYANT, the Hfe-lonK friend of the poet,
be Invittsl to prepare n mcmorinl pa|>cr on the life and |{i*niu of Kit/.-
(Jrcone HnlUsk, to he reiul before thin Hoclvty at a pcvlitl meeting, to
be held fur that jmrj>o*v.
J!<.ilrrJ, Thnt wo e\pre our nympathy with the mirvlvinif nMor
of our dcccattd friend, In the aftllotion which ho ban ui>tlned In being
deprived of her beloved brother and companion of many year*.
HtuJrtJ, Thnt a ci-rtified copy of those Itcaolutlona b communU
cated to MUn Halleek.
Previously to offering the resolutions, Mr. Duyck-
inck presented the following communication relating
to Mr. Ilalleck, which he had received, as Chairman
of the Committee, from Mr. Frederic de Peyster.
A MEMORIAL. 31
76 UnraaiTT PLACE, Jim wry T, 1868.
Erarr X DCTCKDTCK, ESQ.
Mr DBA* SIR, Hie anxieties of * tick-room bar* prevented my
attempting a thoughtful description of the traits of character which dis
tinguished the late FITZ-GBEEXE UALLECK, as gathered from his works
and HIT personal acquaintance with him.
I well remember when tho Croaltn first appeared. Xew York was
then of limited extent in compnriiton with iu present expansion. It*
social circle wn mmill Indeed in contrant with 1(4 prcftctit lUbeMiko
popnl'itl./n, nfar 'Mho roiifoiind'ii n ' of language."
Ho at onre took tho town by utorm, by hU pitrkling wit, gvnlal
humor, pruccful and cu-y vvmiiirittiun, Miiicitt satire, and happy alia-
nloii*. Thou rame Ihel'ovt's "Fanny ;** whvti hU jiopiilarity Uvuue
uiit>oiinrtray the rharacteritio feature* of the
Poet*s mind, and of his justly-earned and wcll-t>utaincd celebrity fur*
nUh a faithful and merited delineation.
I POMI from the well-remembered c? ne* of my youth, and of HAL-
I.BCK in the airoitiliint, to tho day* when, In a ri|o old ago, full of earth
ly honoris he ha dcik'eiuK-d into tho tomb.
The dny provlou* to hi* death ho moved about a< usual, and his
step nnd hU |KKT|I liulicntiMl no |>erevptiblo chaiitf*.
Ho fvlt, however, a roiiM-iuiimioMi that his end was approaching;
for a letter now before mo tute*s that ere he retired to bed on that
day, he obnervvd to hU Utcr that he would not live to see another (tana
away.
The hour l not stated when she entered his room after he had so
gono to his bed ; but from the circumttanco that upon her entering he
asked for an article* of hit dre*, which he had placed in an attyacvnt chair,
it is probublo that it was on tho ctituing morning. She had ju*t turned
to hand him his clothes, when he fell back on the bed, and, when she
reached him, he v.it ?