Death of Halleck: in the sunbeams of fame

Fitz-Greene Halleck complained that he was feeling unwell and a physician was called. He went to bed early on November 19, 1867, a Tuesday evening, and warned his sister Marie, "I am afraid I shall not live until morning." Just before 11 o'clock that evening, his sister went to check on him in his room. He was sitting up in bed, acknowledged her, allegedly asked, "Marie, hand me my pantaloons, if you please," before falling back on the bed without a moan. He never got up again. He was 77 years old.

Halleck had quickly become one of the most well-known humorists and poets of his day. By 1849, he was able to move back from New York to his home town in Guilford, Connecticut, thanks to an annuity left to him by the estate of his former employer John Jacob Astor. Unmarried himself, he spent his final years with his unmarried sister, ignoring requests for public readings. Frequently sick, he expected his death as early as 1860. When he was laid to rest at Alderbrook Cemetery, his funeral procession was a marvelous spectacle.

Among Halleck's final works was a book-length poem, Young America, which described the shaping of the country through an allegory about a boy. From that poem, written at the end of the Civil War:

How sweetly the Boy in the beauty is sleeping
Of Life's sunny morning of hope and of youth,
May his guardian angels, their watch o'er him keeping,
Keep his evening and noon in the pathways of truth.

Ah me! what delight it would give me to wake him,
And lead him wherever my life banners wave,
O'er the pathways of glory and honor to take him,
And teach him the lore of the bold and the brave;

And when the war-clouds and their fierce storm of water,
O'er the land that we love their outpourings shall cease,
Bid him bear to her Ark, from her last field of slaughter,
Upon Victory's wings, the green olive of Peace;

And when the death-note of my bugle has sounded,
And memorial tears are embalming my name,
By young hearts like his may the grave be surrounded
Where I sleep my last sleep in the sunbeams of fame.

Summoned to duty by his charger's neighs,
The only summons that his pride obeys,
He bows his farewell blessing, and is gone,
In quiet heedlessness the Boy sleeps on.

Halleck: of what use to you is all that money?

Today, it's hard to believe just how much of a celebrity Fitz-Greene Halleck had become thanks to his poetry. With that popularity in mind, perhaps it's hard to believe that Halleck took a desk job on May 15, 1832, when John Jacob Astor, one of the wealthiest men in New York, hired him as a personal secretary. The arrangement between poet and merchant proved mutually beneficial.

Halleck kept the job for the rest of his life, becoming a trusted friend with Astor. When Astor turned philanthropist, one of his projects was establishing the Astor Library (a predecessor to the New York Public Library). He relied heavily on the literary knowledge of Halleck and appointed him a founding trustee. Halleck also assisted in purchasing works of art.

When Astor died in 1848, he was immensely wealthy. Years earlier, Halleck criticized him for accumulating so much money. The humble Halleck reportedly asked him, "Mr. Astor, of what use to you is all this money? I would be content to live upon a couple of hundreds a year for the rest of my life." The millionaire Astor took it literally (or, rather, satirically) and left him an annuity of $200 in his will. When Halleck's readers complained of the paltry sum, the Astor estate increased it to an amount rumored between $1500 and $10,000. It still was not enough for Halleck, who was by then in personal financial distress. He soon recognized, however, that the sum was "a small fortune" if he returned to his home town of Guilford, Connecticut. To that town he retired and remained for the rest of his life. After his death, he was honored with a statue in New York's Central Park.

One of Halleck's most well-known poems is the humorous "Fanny," written in a staggering 175 parts. In its sixth stanza, however, he mentions:

Money is power, 'tis said — I never tried;
     I'm but a poet — and bank-notes to me
Are curiosities, as closely eyed,
     Whene'er I get them, as a stone would be,
Tossed from the moon on Doctor Mitchill's table,
Or classic brickbat from the tower of Babel.

The Croakers: had New York by the ears

Avaunt, arch enemy of fun,
Grim nightmare of the mind!
Which way, great Momus, shall I run,
A refuge safe to find?
My puppy's dead; Miss Rumor's breath
Is stopt for lack of news,
And F*** is almost hyp'ed to death,
And Lang has got the blues...

I'm sick of General Jackson's toast,
Canals are nought to me,
Nor do I care who rules the roast,
Clinton or John Targee:
No stick in any bank I own,
I fear no lottery shark,
And if the Battery were gone,
I'd ramble in the park...

In vain! for like a cruel cat
That sucks a child to death,
Or like a Madagascar bat
Who poisons with his breath:
The fiend, the fiend is on me still;
Come, Doctor, here's your pay,
What lotion, potion, plaster, pill,
Will drive the beast away?

It's hard to imagine how such an innocuous piece of poetic doggerel could have caused such a sensation in New York when "To Ennui" was published in the New York Evening Post on March 10, 1819. The five stanzas poked fun at current events, including those in opposition to Governor De Witt Clinton and the building of the Erie Canal. Perhaps it sparked interest in part because a response was published two days later, kick-staring a series of humorous back and forth in the pages of several New York periodicals. Most importantly, when interest was piqued, the two authors refused to be identified, even to their editors. Instead, they relied only on the moniker "The Croakers" — though the name "F***" in the first stanza almost gave it away.

In fact, the series was written by Joseph Rodman Drake and Fitz-Greene Halleck, two of the earliest of the "Knickerbocker" group of writers. As one contemporary noted, the two "had New York by the ears." The second stanza alludes to "F***" (or, less subtly, "Fitz" in later editions) being "hyp'ed," a popular reference to hypochondria. In fact, Halleck was suffering from depression which only worsened after Drake's death about a year after the Croakers series began. As the series continued, the duo attacked local politicians, artists, businessmen, and even editors and publishers.

Some have suggested (with good evidence) that Halleck was secretly in love with Drake. After Drake's early death, Halleck even suggested the two should be buried side-by-side. A decade later, in 1830, Halleck concluded the Croakers series with one final croak (though he himself did not croak  until 1867).

Halleck: most beloved and most wide-famed

The poet Fitz-Greene Halleck died at the age of 77 of a "bronchial disease." Though virtually forgotten today, Halleck was a major celebrity in the world of American literature in his day. His funeral, held on November 22, 1867, was a major event.

After a formal service in Christ Church in his native Guilford, Connecticut, Halleck's casket was opened so that, as his first biographer wrote, "kinsmen, friends, and neighbors were gratified with a last view of the poet's fine features, to which death had added a more than earthly beauty." Then, a procession walked about a mile to Alderbrook Cemetery for the poet's burial. Months later, friends and admirers raised money for a massive granite monument to mark the grave. On it was inscribed: "One of the few, the immortal names that were not born to die." They also planted ivy which had been picked from Sunnyside, the famous home of Washington Irving.

Within a few days of his death, notices were published as far away as Greece (a newspaper in that country referred to him as "the most beloved and most wide-famed of all the poets of the New World"). The New York Historical Society held a major dinner event in honor of Halleck, led by fellow poet William Cullen Bryant (who also memorialized Irving for the same organization). When Richard Henry Dana, Sr. heard of all the excitement in honor of Halleck, he noted, "Had he lived, how his genial nature would have enjoyed it!"

From Halleck's poem, "The Love of Notoriety ":

There are laurels our temples throb warmly to claim,
Unwet by the blood-dripping fingers of War,
And as dear to the heart are the whispers of fame,
As the blasts of her bugle rang fiercely and far;
The death-dirge is sung o'er the warrior's tomb,
Ere the world to his valor its homage will give,
But the feathers that form Notoriety's plume,
Are plucked in the sunshine, and live while we live.

There's a wonderful charm in that sort of renown
Which consists in becoming "the talk of the town;"
'Tis a pleasure which none but your "truly great" feels,
To be followed about by a mob at one's heels;
And to hear from the grazing and mouth-open throng,
The dear words "That's he," as one trudges along;
While Beauty, all anxious, stands up on tip-toes,
Leans on her beau's shoulder, and lisps "There he goes."

He has, unfortunately, no name

From the Evening Post for November 18, 1830: "Several inquires having been made of us respecting the name of the author of an 'Epistle to Mr. Hogbin'... we might satisfy the curiosity of those who had applied to us." The article in question had been published only two days earlier. The author, however, cheekily replied that he had, "unfortunately, no name. His father and mother... declined giving him any."

"Epistle to Mr. Hogbin" had been billed as the last of the "Croakers," a series which had begun back in 1819. Mostly humorous verses, the series drew substantial interest, in part  because of the anonymity of its two authors. In fact, when their publisher demanded to meet them, they introduced themselves: "I am Croaker, and this gentleman, sir, is Croaker Junior." Their pseudonym was inspired by Oliver Goldsmith's "The Good-natured Man." The installment published in November 1830 was the final one because one of the two contributors had died.

The two men were Joseph Rodman Drake and Fitz-Greene Halleck. Drake died ten years earlier in 1820, just over a month after his 25th birthday. Halleck had been devastated by the death of his friend (and, many suspect, his romantic interest, though there is no evidence Drake returned those feelings). The final Croaker article, which now claimed its author was "A Working Man," was written solely by Halleck (pictured at left). The article retained its humorous intent but presented a topic that was taken quite seriously at the time: he lampooned a labor union. Halleck's character boasted, "We workingmen prophets... [have] broken the chains of laws, churches, and marriages."

Since Drake's death, Halleck had gone on to become a major poetical force in early American writing and is today memorialized in New York City's Central Park.

*Recommended reading: American Byron: Homosexuality & The Fall Of Fitz-Greene Halleck (2001), by John W. M. Hallock.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home

On May 29, 1819, the poet Joseph Rodman Drake saw his most famous poem published, "The American Flag." It was printed in the New York Evening Post, and almost instantly put Drake in the highest rank of American poets at the time.

The New York City-born poet had his earliest work published before he was 16 years old. His first book of collected poems, The Culprit Fay and Other Poems, was not published until well after his death. He was particularly mourned by his close friend Fitz-Greene Halleck, equally famous in those days, equally forgotten today. The two had collaborated frequently and, so the story goes, Halleck re-wrote one of the stanzas in "The American Flag" as a favor. What follows is just a part of the poem. The full version is here.

When Freedom, from her mountain height,
  Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
  And set the stars of glory there;
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white
With streakings of the morning light;
Then, from his mansion in the sun,
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand,
The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud!
  Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud,
  And see the lightning-lances driven
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven—
Child of the sun! to thee 't is given
  To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
  The harbingers of victory! [...]

Flag of the free heart's hope and home,
  By angel hands to valor given;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
  And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet!
  Where breathes the foe but falls before us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
  And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

The year "The American Flag" was published, Drake was already sick with tuberculosis. Drake ("The Bronx Poet," he was later called) was 25 when he died of the disease.

In 1915, 95 years after the publication of "The American Flag," Drake was memorialized by the Bronx Society of Arts and Sciences. The poem was set to music by a local school teacher and, according to the program, "Sung by One Hundred Pupils of the School, accompanied by the Morris High School Orchestra." The party proceeded, by "automobile," to Drake's grave to unveil his restored memorial marker. They also dedicated Joseph Rodman Drake Park, which still exists. At its dedication that day, a poem by Halleck was read.

*The image above is captioned "At Drake's Grave Restored - May 29, 1915" and was published in the booklet which was printed after the commemoration.

Halleck: Inscribed with all reverence

Fitz-Greene Halleck became a household name as a poet in the nineteenth century. In fact, his reputation was so strong that, immediately after his death, efforts were made to memorialize him in no less a public spot than New York City's Central Park. The statue, still standing, is considered the first public memorial to an American poet. Today, he is mostly forgotten.

But, at the age of 12, young Fitz-Greene (who was partially deaf) knew nothing of that legacy, or forgotten legacy, that was to come. On May 20, 1803, the young boy wrote one of his earliest poems, likely at his family's home in Guilford, Connecticut:

Stern winter is gone: no more it snows,
But lambkins briskly play;
They skip about the verdant fields,
And hail returning May.

The robin sits on yonder bough
And tunes his whistling lay,
While sweetly throbs his little throat
To hail returning May.

The sun, just rising in the east,
New gilds the smiling day;
With noises gay the hills resound,
And hail returning May.

The plains are dotted in verdure green,
The hills and dales look gay;
The shepherd sings along the plain,
And hails returning May.

Maria rose at early dawn,
And took her lonely way
Where bleating herds skip lightly round,
And hail returning May.

Maria, gayest of the plain,
To you I tune my lay;
May you fore'er enjoy the sweets
Of verdant, blooming May.

The poem was addressed to his sister. The original manuscript opens with: "Inscribed with all reverence to Miss Maria Halleck, by her brother, Fitz-Greene Halleck."