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"I fear," he says, "that Mrs. Parker exaggerated my symptoms. I am tired, and not very happy. How could it be otherwise? But I am not unwell. This late discussion has been painful. Never was I more right. Knowing what I did, I felt it my duty to oppose the scheme [the San Domingo annexation project-ED.], which, to my mind, was conceived in heartlessness and indifference to the African race. My arguments and appeals were answered by personalities, and papers pretending to be friendly regretted my bad temper. I was simply earnest. How ineffably absurd the allegation that in the discharge of a great public duty I was influenced by personal hostility to the President! I saw only the people that I wished to save, and I alluded to the President as little as possible, and not once with a single word of personality. Excuse this egotism, but your letter tempts the revelation. I had thought that the old pro-slavery days were over, and that I should be relieved from conflicts; but we have seen the same vindictive spirit which you remember in other times. I thank your husband for his good letter and its valued counsel. Good-bye.

"Ever sincerely yours,

CHARLES SUmner."

XXXVII.

A LOVING GARLAND ROUND THE BROW OF FITZ-GREENE

HALLECK.

A FEW days before the Fourth of July, I am not quite sure whether it was in 1847 or '48, I received an invitation to speak at Tammany Hall, in the city of New York, and, in company with the eloquent George W. Barton, of Philadelphia, who had also agreed to participate in the celebration of the anniversary, I took the cars on Saturday, the 2d of July, and reached the Astor House in the evening. Tammany Hall, at that time, was the focus of the intellect and wealth of the Democratic party. Its managers and members were among the first men of the time. Martin Van Buren, Churchill C. Cambreling, Gouverneur Morris, James T. Brady, Daniel S. Dickinson, William L. Marcy, Charles O'Conor, and the brave old Mayor, William F. Havemeyer, added much to the dignity and power of that ven

erable organization. It was, in fact, very much like the Philadelphia Union League during the war.

The weather was charming and my companion unusually brilliant, and so, after a visit to the theatres and a sound sleep, we were glad to accept the invitation of my old friend Emanuel B. Hart to spend Sunday with an intelligent Hebrew family at Bull's Ferry, on the Hudson. We took the early morning boat, and, while enjoying the exquisite weather and the alternating life around us—the great ships at anchor contrasting with the ceaseless activity of the passing steamers-a gentleman remarked, "There's Fitz-Greene Halleck;" and, sure enough, seated in the corner, with his umbrella in one hand and a book in the other, we saw the author of "Marco Bozzaris." He was then in his fifty-ninth year, and at once became an object of interest to us. Mr. Hart knew him, and presented us; and, though he received us kindly, and even cordially, it was easy to see that he rather shrank from public notice. My gifted friend, who knew all the poet's best things by heart, soon captured the quiet scholar by his magnetic talk and happy quotations, and the time passed swiftly. Mr. Halleck stopped, as we did, at Bull's Ferry, where he intended to spend the day with his friends. And that was the first and last time I ever saw him. But the scene was fixed in my memory. And, now that both are gone-Barton dying on the 25th of January, 1851, when he was only forty-one, and Halleck on the 17th of November, 1867, in his seventy-seventh year-this little incident was recalled by a late perusal of the "Life and Letters of FitzGreene Halleck," by General James Grant Wilson-a most. delightful and instructive volume.

Identified as Halleck was with the society of the old Democratic days, and with the historic Astor family, for many years a clerk of that remarkable man Jacob Barker, it was a little curious that we should have met him on our way to pay our respects at the shrine of St. Tammany. And in reading over

the really enjoyable pages of General Wilson's book, I deeply regretted that such a book (it was printed in 1869) should have almost passed out of print, and that such a name as that of Fitz-Greene Halleck should be remembered only by those who are fond of reviving the poetry of the era in which he lived. Such is fame. A renowned scholar or poet must be a Shakespeare or a Milton to maintain a hold upon universal remembrance. About that time I was speaking to a company of intelligent young people of Nicholas Biddle, of his wonderful and varied intellect, when one of them quietly asked me whether Mr. Dickens had not written a book on the character I was describing. I was talking of Nicholas Biddle, and he of Nicholas Nickleby! And only a few days after, in speaking of Fitz-Greene Halleck, a worthy young man at my side asked me whether it was General Halleck to whom I was referring.

It is not often that a flower of such enduring fragrance and beauty is developed between the cold walls of a mercantile house. In 1811, when Fitz-Greene Halleck was twenty-one, he left his native village of Guilford, Connecticut, to seek his fame and fortune in the city of New York. Fortune he never found, and fame came slowly, but came to stay. His first experience in life was as a clerk in the office of Jacob Barker, himself an historical character, who lived to a great age, having passed through all the experiences of prosperity and penury. His first poem was published anonymously, on the 22d of December, 1813, and he continued to write at intervals rather for amusement than profit. Among his quiet occupations and amusements, he made the acquaintance of the celebrated Joseph Rodman Drake, the author of "The Culprit Fay," and the friendship between the two remained unbroken during their lives. In the same winter, after the publication of his famous poem "Fanny," Halleck made a visit as far south as Virginia, stopping at Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Mount Vernon, and Alexandria. "Philadelphia," he wrote, "has attrac

tions for a man of literature superior to any other place in America.... Washington is a mere desert. Well might Anacreon Moore ridicule its 'Goose Creek,' its swamps and marshes. Since he visited it, some slight improvement has been made; but the present generation and its children's children will rest quiet in their graves, or sleep in 'dull, cold marble,' before it will present an appearance worthy of its illustrious founder." The road from York and Lancaster to Philadelphia he was charmed with. "It is the Paradise of America. On the banks of the Schuylkill are some of the loveliest views that the eye of the imagination ever fancied." He was not pleased with the South, and came back gladly to New York. The "Culprit Fay," written by his friend Drake, was begun and finished in three days. "It is certainly the best thing of the kind in the * language," he writes, " and is more strikingly original than I had supposed it possible for the language of a modern poet to be.'

In 1819 the two attached friends and literary partners, FitzGreene Halleck and Joseph Rodman Drake, began a series of verses known as "The Croakers," published in the New York Evening Post, which ran through several months, and kept the city in a blaze of excitement. They were full of wit and personality, and produced a host of imitators. The writers, like the author of Junius, were the sole depositaries of their own secret. Few of the present generation ever heard of them. The "American Flag" was written by Drake between the 20th and 25th day of May, 1819, and is to this day a classic. "Fanny" was begun by Halleck during the summer, and completed in the autumn of the same year, and was also published anonymously. It is a serio-comic poem of nearly fifteen hundred lines, and rose to instant popularity, which was so great that the publisher offered five hundred dollars for another canto, which Halleck accepted, and in 1821 a second edition appeared. Its authorship was attributed to a number of prominent men; but suspicion never rested upon Halleck, who

quietly enjoyed the bewilderment of the town, sharing his secret only with a few faithful friends. In a letter to his sister, Halleck says, "The popularity of 'Fanny' is far above my expectations, and greatly above its merits; but the secret is that it is fashionable to admire it: but, fortunately for its author, the general class of readers do not know good from bad." Many of its passages are exquisitely beautiful.

The literary partnership between himself and Joseph Rodman Drake was preserved up to the death of the latter, on the 21st of September, 1820. It was a sweet companionship, and, says General Wilson, "genius does not readily amalgamate; hence, partnerships in the literary are more rare than in the commercial world. Almost the only parallel to the young American poets is that of Beaumont and Fletcher, the rich conceptions of whose twin-like brain sprang from an equally thorough and genuine communion of congenial minds.”

During his European tour, in 1822, he wrote the two beautiful poems "Alnwick Castle" and "Burns," among the loveliest contributions to English literature.

"Marco Bozzaris" is better remembered than anything he wrote, and still retains its place among the choice poetry of our school-books, and is, therefore, a favorite in all circles. It is a curious circumstance that in the midst of its vast popularity his sister never heard of it, much less that the great work was written by her brother. He says, in a note to her of the 26th of March, 1827, "I am somewhat surprised and quite amused at your not having heard of my rhymes on 'Marco Bozzaris.' You remind me of the Chinese in one of Goldsmith's essays, who, on inquiring at a bookseller's shop in Amsterdam for the works of the immortal Chongfu (or some such name), a Chinese author of great eminence, was astonished to find that the illustrious and immortal author and his writings were totally unknown out of China. Why, 'Bozzaris' is here considered my chef-d'œuvre, the key-stone of the arch of my renown, if re

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