Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1872-08-08
NO. 1873.
"H0ME, SWEET HOME"
SOMETHING CT THE GRAND OLD SoNG-
ITS AUTHOR AND ITS ORIGIN.

John H. Payne, the author Of that
touching and immortal song, Home,
Sweet Home,' was not only poor in pock-
ct, hut homeless wanderer. In conver-
sation with friend, he once gave ex-
preston to the following recital:
''How Often" said he, ''have l been in
the heart of Paris, Berlin and London, or
some other city, and heard persons playing
the next meal, or place to lay my head.
The world has literally sung my song until
every heart is familiar with its melody.
Yet | have been poor wanderer from my
boyhood. My country has ruthlessly turn
ed me from office, and in my old age,
have to submit to humiliation for my daily
bread"
He had the most exact and beautiful ex-
preston of the heart 8 emotion regarding
home, and yet personally he was stran.
ger to all its tender, loving influences. A
wanderer, and sometimes vagabond, he
has moved the human heart to its very
depths by his exquisite lines.
Disguised with his treatment in his own
country, and still impelled by his DISPOSE
ton to roam, his only wish was to die in
foreign land. and to be buried by stran-
gers, and sleep in obscruity. He obtained
an appointment as United States Consul
at Tunis, where he died.
We now turn to period antecedent to
the composition of his song. At times he
was greatly depressed, and seemed to feel
most accutely his utter loneliness. One
day friend called to see him and on en-
tering said:
''How are you to-day. PAYNE P"
"Down-hearted enough; but last night
had one OF the most glorious visions in
dream that ever met mortal eye
''Ah, indeed: what was it ?"
"Well, will tell you. suppose you
think it scene of vast wealth, Of palace
or something else of that kind that mans
desires are set upon. 1t was nothing Of
the kind. | don't often have dreams, but
when do they impress me greatly. In
this dream was in home OF most trans
cendent rural beauty. 1t was all that
poet and painter could imagine. The
landscape was composed of gentle rolling
hills. and sweet, still valleys, with mean
dering streams. There were flowers and
birds, crops. focks and herds. In the
midst Of this stood various habitations of
men women and children. and heard
pleasant voices, laughter, music and
song"
Truly, a beautiful picture of human
content said the friend.
1.-The lite long imagery of my BRAIN"
cried the poet, "of home, sweet home
All how my soul reveled in the picture
But gradually it faded from my sight.
was transtixed. l strained my eyes to
catch its outlines as they grew fainter and
fainter; but at last it had faded l then
looked up and saw dark cloud gather
ing, which grew dark and terrible.
"'Ah.' said !, that cloud is significant
of my own lot
AS said these words, l saw traced up
on it in burning letters these words of the
Almighty to another miserable man:
"A fugitive and vagabond shalt thou
be on earth !.
In terror recognized my doom, and
awoke to find it both a dream ard a sad
reality"
The unhappy man buried his face in his
hands, and tor some time he seemed to be
in the deepest misery.
"a very wonderful dream" said his com-
panion.
We'll, do you know what l am going
to do ?' said Payne, looking up. "Tll tell
you. I've been thinking great deal over
the matter, and intend to write song
called Home, Sweet Home The picture
Of my dream shall be my inspiration for
the task, and my lonely heart will give
touching pathos to my words"
Not long after, the song of ''HoMe,
Sweet Home" was given to the world by
John Howard Payne. The dream is more
specially recalled by the closing verse:
An exile from home, pleasure dazzles in vain
An, give me my lowly, thatched c ttage againl
The Iii DIS singing sweetly, they came at my call
GIVE me then that peace of mind, dearer than all,
Home, sweet Home.
There's no place like home.