The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-02-23
THE ORIGIN OF "HOME SWEET
HOME"

John Howard Payne. the author Of
Home, Sweet Home" was already an
old man when he came to Tunis as
United States Consul. Nothing suited
the poet better than such a post, both
on account of its isolation and the ORR
entail habits of the people.
He was fond Of telling the story of his
life, and particularly thu circumstances
of his writing Home, Sweet Home"
Mr.. Payne has the reputation of being
dissipated. This is borne out by Incl
dents limited at by him of his early
years. An actor by profession. its temp
tations we're never completely overcome.
The poets greatest confidants in Tunis
we're the Chapelie family, and to Mr..
Alfred Chapelie, then young man, he
often remarked: Nothing makes me 80
happy as an old friend a good book, and
my pipe"
Mr.. Payne, as reported by MIR. Cha
pelie, was man Of quiet and retiring
habits. He was great reader, for as
writer he had done his work. The old
fire kindled in his eyes when he told of
his career. His tragedy of "Brutus"
was his favorite, and placed by him
higher than his poem Of Home, Sweet
Home" The collection of scraps was
mania with him. His Moorish study
was Uttered with papers and magazines
in several languages. Large drawers
were filled with his literary treasures.
Verses which the poet had jotted down
on scraps of paper during his rambles,
were thrown in like pearls in the sands.
Whether at coffee-house or on jaunt
to the ruins of Carthage or the palaces
Of the Boys, the inspiration never for
sock him. At the poets death this col
lection was gathered into baskets. 1t
took twenty to contain it, and Tunis-
ian basket holds fully bushel. Cor
respondence was then opened with the
poets relatives. Sketches. poems, and
episodes from Mr.. Payne's life warranted
the preservation Of this material. No
answer came from America. The bas.
kets we're stored in the "Magazin." Here
they lay for many years. Such lack of
interest by those most deeply concerned
would justify the belief that original
matter Of enduring merit from the pen
of the poet was thus lost to the world.
1T was in the Gardens Of the Tuiler.
les that the words of Home Sweet
Home first came to me-" In this wise
spoke Mr.. Payne one day to his friend,
Mr.. Chapelie. Il had been pretty much
over the world. Actors get accustomed
to Bohemian life. 1 could see it was
beginning to tell on me, so in time I
drifted to Paris some way; how, I've
forgotten. But as wandered alone and
without penny through the city,
became thoroughly homesick. took a
great liking to the Tuileries. The song
of the birds, the sunlight or moonlight
raining through the trees, the perfume
of those fowers-how they all reminded
me of home"
Whoever has been in Paris, especially
in the springtime. will appreciate these
words of the poet. A lovelier park than
the Tuileries could not be found. Here
the little girls wheel their bills around
in the tiniest of carriages, and the boys
float their balloons. Over there foun.
tain is discharging thousand showers,
a rainbow converting them Immediately
into diamonds, rubies and sapphires.
The sparrows-how tame and friendly
they are! To get on good terms with
them one must tarry. Bring along bun
from the breakfast table; suspicion. dis
appears. But at first only two or three
OF the dainty creatures approach-pro-
badly scouts sent out by the aerial tribe.
A dozen now come up, and soon it would
seem as il all the birds OF Paris had
learned of the picnic and were Fastening
hither as fast as their little wings could
bear them. They do not stop at ones
feet, but perch on ones hands head and
shoulders. There never were heard such
cries Of Joy. The air is full of song. In
such place as this is it wonder that !
poet should be inspired?
"Yes," continued Mr.. Payne. "the sen.
timent had been running in my mind
for some time. could not hit on the
rhyme. One evening as l was resting
in the Tuileries, and the stars were VEN
turing out from their hiding places. the
strain OF beautiful melody was borne
on the air. 1t was a Sicilian tune. l
had heard it years before. 1t was ex
actly what l had been waiting for.
With heart full of home, hurried
back to my lodgings in remote part OF
Paris. Before the night was over my
work was done. The tune made the |
poem. | was getting desperate by this
time. | had hardly sou 10 my pockets;
but one or two friends helped me. NJ, !