My dear Sir,—The anxieties of a sick-room have prevented my attempting a thoughtful description of the traits of character which distinguished the late Fitz-Greene Halleck, as gathered from his works and my personal acquaintance with him.
I well remember when the Croakers first appeared. New York was then of limited extent in comparison with its present expansion. Its social circle was small indeed in contrast with its present Babel-like population, after “the confounding of language.”
He at once took the town by storm, by his sparkling wit, genial humor, graceful and easy versification, salient satire, and happy allusions. Then came the Poet’s “Fanny;” when his popularity became unbounded, and, with an alteration or two, a line of his own best describes the general sentiment—
“None named him but to praise.”
In succession followed his other and equally successful publications. The popular feeling rose to enthusiasm, and has never subsided. He is one of the illustrious men of our country, with a name and fame imperishable.
Others will analyze and portray the characteristic features of the Poet’s mind, and of his justly-earned and well-sustained celebrity furnish a faithful and merited delineation.
I pass from the well-remembered scenes of my youth, and of Halleck in the ascendant, to the days when, in a ripe old age, full of earthly honors, he has descended into the tomb.
The day previous to his death he moved about as usual, and his step and his speech indicated no perceptible change.
He felt, however, a consciousness that his end was approaching; for a letter now before me states, that ere he retired to bed on that day, he observed to his sister that he would not live to see another pass away.
The hour is not stated when she entered his room after he had so gone to his bed; but from the circumstance that upon her entering he asked for an article of his dress, which he had placed in an adjacent chair, it is probable that it was on the ensuing morning. She had just turned to hand him his clothes, when he fell back on the bed, and, when she reached him, he was dead.
Thus departed this life, this distinguished man, whose name throughout our land is as familiar as “a household word,” and whose fame is as imperishable as his works.
