The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1883-06-01
JOHN HOWARD PAYNE.
The Author OF .Home. Sweet Home"
From Harper's Masazine.J, tfT


From Harper's Masazine.l' 4(T
Payne was boy prodigy upon the
stage, hut not remarkable actor in his
maturity. Then he was a manager, q
writer and adapter of plays, q general
utility" man in Transmitting and arrang-
ing. He lost money as manager, and
was imprisoned in London. He opened
his prison door with successful trans
lation, played Richard the Third for q
few nights, and left the stage. Then
he sent some plays in manuscript to
Charles Kemble, and among them was
"Clari," and if Kemble would give him
ESQ he would have Bishop arrange the
play with music for the stage. Kemble
sent the money; Bishop arranged the
music; Ellen Trees sister sang it. One
song in it melted the heart of London
and of the world, and the plaintive
melody is everywhere familiar, and
everywhere its tender pathos invests
with aflectionate regard the name OF
John Howard Payne.
1t was i'll Italy that he heard the
melody sung by peasant girl carrying
flowers and vegetables. The wander
ing Goldsmith might have heard it, and
trilled it at twilight from his flute; fer
il is the very pensive motive OF the
Deserted Village" To the lettering
play-writer the melody suggested the
words which he has associated with it.,
and jotting down the notes of the air,
he sent both word and music to Bishop,
who duly arranged them, and after the
immediate and great success of the
song, it was published las sung by Miss
Tree" sister of Ellen Tree-"composed
and partly founded upon Sicilian air
by Henry r. Bishop" But Payne's
name is not even mentioned. CLAIR,
the Maid of Milan," Was the rage. For
many years it was often sung, and its
performance is a pleasant "reminiscences
Of theater-goers of thirty and forty
years ago. Payne continued to write
tragedies and comedies, operas and
farces, and in 1892 he returned to
America. A complimentary benefit was
given to him ut the Park Theater, which
produced $1,000. And Mr.. Jones, +"
says recent report whoever Mr..
Jones was-sang Home, Sweet Home. ,"
Alas here again is the untoward fate
of the actor-"whoever Mr.. Jones was !"
Why, sir, Mr. Jones was long the dulcet
tenor of the old Park, and in the En-
glish version of "Masaniello" his sing
ing of the aria, Morning It's sweets is
finging," was the delight OF the lovely
bellies of long ago, whose grandchildren
are the matrons of to-day.
For ten years Payne led the same
Bedouin life, full of literary and
humane and romantic projects, but he
never again wrote or did anything
memorable. In 1913 he was appointed
Consul at Tunis, where, i'll 1852, "an
exile from home" he died. There is an
inevitable melancholy in the impression
of such life, yet it is not clear that
Payne was especially unhappy. But he
was always rover, and was never mar
ried, and often knew the pinch of
poverty. After thirty years Mr.. Cor
coran, of Washington, who personally
knew him, obtained permission to re-
move his remains, and in June they will
be laid finally in Oak Hill Cemetery,
near Washington.
Except for his one song the name of
Payne would be preserved only in
biographical dictionaries and in some
perishing traditions of the theater.
But his song is that one touch of nature
which makes the world kin. 1t is the
frailest thread Of which fame was ever
spun. For the poetry is but rude ex-
preston of a common sentiment, and 1t
would hardly have aroused attention
except for the pathetic melody to which
it was adapted. That touches every
nearer, az it touched Payne when he
heard it sung by the Italian girl. He
indicated his claim 20 the rame OF
poet by his perfect interpretation of the
sentiment of the music. 1t was in the
year that he died that New York heard
Jenny Lind sing his song. There was
simple, honest generous peasant all
in her aspect, and when her marvellous
voice broke into a ringing shower OF
limpid thrills in
The birds singing gayly that come at my call,
it was as If all the birds of spring
warbled together, or choir of lark:
sang at heavens gate.
There are a hundred monuments OF
distinguished men in Washington who
were very conspicuous, and some o
whom performed great and memorable
services. But no monument there vii
be visited by greater throng of pill
grims, and no memory will appeal more
tenderly to all of them, than those o.
the wide-wandering actor who lived anC
died alone, and of whom nothing il
remembered but that he wrote ON,
song.
The Home OF the Horse.