W- JUCKERMAN BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF r89i a.:s Q M^ iT^i. l.^jXl )fe 9306 Cornell University Library PS 3108.B44 Address at the funeral of Mr. Henry, T.T 3 1924 022 206 720 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022206720 ADDRESS AT THE rUNEKAL OF MR. HENRY T. TUCKERMAN, [BoBN Apeil 20, 1813. Died Deo. 17, 1871.] ALL SOULS' CHURCH, NEW TOKK. DECEMBER 21, 1871, BY REV. H, W. BELLOWS, D. D. NEW YORK. G. P. PUTNAM & SONS. 1872. Address. It is not often that we are called to min- gle with its parent dust the ashes of a purer, brighter flame than that which has just mounted to its Source. A man of letters has suddenly dropped out of the fellowship of those who live by the pen. The indefatigable scribe has writ- ten his last line, and the cunning has gone out of his restless fingers. The active brain has ceased to muse and ponder. The attentive eye, so long fixed with philosophic curiosity upon the universe of men and things, is forever shut. The record of a long literary life is ended ; and the poet, critic, biographer has gone back to the Author of his being, to render up an author's account of his stewardship. Not until his facul- ties had reached their utmost development ; not until his large opportunities had been fully improved ; not until he had given, in almost every form, the evidences of his fine gifts,, and added numerous instructive and pleasing works to our young literature, has he left us ; and yet, 4 HEKRT T. TUCKERMAN". in the midst of his labors, and before he had shown one painful indication of failing powers or intermitted industry, in the ripeness and rich autumn of his- years, but before decay or dark- ness had set in. Happy and blessed in his origin and career, he has been fortunate in the oppor- tunity of his death. For we are not commemo- rating the too common history of a literary man born to poverty and social obscurity, and strug- gling with adverse circumstances to make a talent, which he dare not hide, shine in the averted and unrecognizing eyes of contempora- ries. Born in the best class of the most culti- vated city of the country, and with a modest competency in his hand, he did not turn to let- ters as a means of meeting urgent necessities, but only as the gratification of an inborn longing for expression, and a means of honorable fame and substantial usefulness. Had his health in early life been equal to his first desires, he would probably have made the Christian minis- try his calling. But, early cut off by persistent invalidism from academic studies, he was forced to abandon what I well remember in ray own days of ministerial preparation, his intimate friends seemed to think his natural vocation, and to become a wanderer in search of health during DR. bellows' address. 5 the whole period when professional studies are in season. His moral delicacy and spirituality of feeling, his native gentleness and purity, emi- nently fitted him for the service of the Christian ministry; and yet Ave may consider it fortunate that he was diverted from it into another path ; for the intellectual sobriety, elevation of tone, and love of usefulness which had inclined him to that calling accompanied him into the larger field on which he afterward entered ; and he brought to general literature the moral training and strong sense of accountableness for the use of his talents which adds such a force and charm, by lending such a background of personal char- acter, to literary work. Literature, as a profes- sion, too often partakes of the recklessness that attends a hunted and needy life, in which the pen is whetted on vulgar wants, and the work smells of the necessities that supply its urgent motive. Superficial themes, false tastes, pass- ing excitements, local prejudices, average mo- rality, or doubtful and dangerous novelties of opinion, furnish its readiest topics and govern its style, and communicate a from-hand-to-mouth character to its products. It must be a cold and unfeeling heart that looks without sympathy upon even the vagrancy of genius, or the broken 6 HEKRY T. TUCKEEMAN. lights of souls inwardly capable of sustained and dignified effort, but driven by want to sell them- selves piecemeal to the vulgar demand for im- mediate and transitory sensations. But how happy those whose circumstances deliver them from this bondage ; who are free to do their best, and to obey their ^highest convictions and im- pulses ia the world of letters ! Noblest of all, those who, feeling all the temptations of want and obscurity, all the inducements of immediate reward offered to prostitute talents, yet keep their genius sacred and pure, refusing to win one eye to its neglected shrine by flinging unhal- lowed perfumes into its holy oil or setting colored glasses about its white flame. We cannot claim that our departed brother had this martyr-crown of genius on his brow ; but neither had he one false gem in the modest coronet he wore. Yet, be it remembered how seldom talents, so little impulsive as his, make a systematic service of literature when not driven by urgent necessity. He, like hundreds of others of similar gifts, might have spent his life in literary ease, an idler in foreign galleries of art, a dilettante in intellectual circles, a traveller in search of new stimulants for a jaded appetite. But, after a few years devoted to foreign travel DR. bellows' address. 7 and the restitution of health. — whose opportu- nities were always skillfully turned to literary ac- count — Mr. Tuckerman deliberately set himself down to literature as the employment of his life, his appointed way of redeeming the time, and of adding to the sum of human improvement and happiness. It would be difficult to point to a finer instance, where the love of letters and the sense of duty, free from the goad of neces- sity, had led to a systematic and laborious lit- erary life. Measured only by the number of his works, he has been one of the most diligent and productive of American authors. Poems, travels, biography, essay, criticism, ceaseless contribu- tions to the daily press and the reviews and magazines, have proved the untiring activity of his mind and pen ; and nobody could charge him with easy and careless work. He always did his best, if labor and devotion could achieve it. He had no off-hand, natural fluency of lip or pen ; no passionate urgency of spirit ; no quickening of irresistible genius. With a somewhat sluggish temperament, an even and balanced nature, to which motion of any kind is not easy, only imper- fect health at the best, and a general seclusion from the animating influences of either political or public life, he yet, by force of will, pure love of 8 HENRY T. TUCKERMAN. letters, and activity of intellectual and moral sympathies, made as serious and persistent a business of literature as the advocate does of his law, or the merchant of his trade. His study was as regular a scene of daily labor as the studios of the artists in the same building, who painted for their lives. He went to his self- appointed task at the prescribed moment, and worked as faithfully for the allotted four or five hours a day as if he were on salary and under authority. I beg leave to adduce his example in this particular as one of the most useful and commendable I ever knew. He is an illustrious pattern of the dignity of self-imposed tasks ; of the fidelity a man of leisure paid his own sense of duty in becoming, also, a man of toil ; and, above all, of method, order, and diligence in intellectual habits. What will not four or five hours accomplish, if the best part of the day, and given with earnest, business-like persistency to study and writing, in the way of literary attain- ments and intellectual products ? Even ordi- nary talents, thus assiduously cultivated, secure extraordinary results. Mr. Tuckerman, with his temperament, circumstances, and talents, might easily have sunk into a mere man of taste, and one whose life would have been tedious to him- DR. bellows' address. self and of little value to others. But with his high sense of duty and his excellent method, he made the very utmost of his natural powers ; cultivated his plot of ground in the most thorough manner ; occupied every available moment of his time with dignified and delightful studies ; and contributed incessantly to the elevation, direction, and purification of public sentiment. This is not the time and place to speak critic- ally of his numerous works — in verse, in studies of character, in sketches of American artists, in general criticism, or in the philosophical estimate of national tendencies. His mind, although a broad and high table-land, was too level to make his genius pointed and strikingly seen. It rose nowhere to mountain heights. There was no volcanic fire, shaping the intellectual territory, and forcing exit at one flaming vent. He was a poet ; but not one to whom verse was a necessity, and the imagination a compact and ever-preg- nant and pressing faculty. He was an observer, but not one whose mind received pictures to be conveyed to others by a few decisive strokes, in all the vividness of an original vision. What he saw was always mingled with what he felt, and described rather by the reflections it aroused than as the thing it was. He was a critic — a 10 HENRY T. TuCKERMAN'. candid, careful, and most instructive one ; yet without any such transcendent critical faculty as made you feel that a masterly analysis had laid bare the strength and weakness of the work or the artist he essayed to measure. His works in verse, narrative, and criticism are all at about one level, and of one kind of excellence. They are all full of intelligence, of large acquaintance with literarj' history, of fine moral feeling, of ge- nial sympathy, of serious thoughtfulness, of pains- taking labor, of unusual breadth of observation, of artistic feeling. They seldom glow and burn : but they are always warm and cheery. They have no lightnings ; but are luminous with truth and moral beauty. And in the way of carefully- acquired and various knowledge, of widely- related ideas and illustrations, of evidences of thorough and diversified culture, of independent conscientious convictions, of absolute freedom from false charms or sensational bids for applause, they are among the most worthy of studies for young writers. But their main distinction lies in the fine and never once forsaken tone of truth, and duty to which they are all set. You hear through everything Mr. Tuckerraan wrote the thorough-base of fundamental principles. He is grounded in serious and solid convictions of truth DR. bellows' ADDEESS. 11 and goodness. He writes to instruct, to do jus- tice, to help struggling merit, to fortify suffering and imperilled ideas, to plant seeds of future growth in neglected portions of the young field of our national literature or our social culture. Moral- ity and religion fear no blow at his hands. Lit- erature and art know he is their knight, without fear and without reproach. How much he did for the fuller and riper culture of the country, at a time when strong colors were most welcome to its young eye and vivid sensations to its crude palate, no one who has studied his influence will estimate at an inconsiderable amount. Hardly any one has been as attentive and careful an observer as he of the conditions of real progress in American art and letters and social refine- ments. In a quiet and modest way, he has for thirty years been watching everything that fa- vored or hindered our national culture — fine arts, libraries, parks, charities, reviews and mag- azines, and the daily press. No nascent poet found swift encouragement, no young artist prompt recognition, no foreign patriot immediate sympathy, no worthy stranger a warm welcome, no neglected public servant applause, no forlorn cause a brave word, that it could not be traced to Mr. Tuckerraan, as either the earliest to give it or 12 HENRY T. TUCKERMAN. as among the most quiet and retired, yet efficient movers in tlie kindly service. And this brings me to what is far rarer in itself, and, above all, more important to con- sider, at an hour like this, than any literary merits or generous sympathies. I mean the worth and beauty of his character. Of course, everything already said has implied that he was a man of high tone and settled principles. I believe that his character rested firmly upon religious faith and an habitual sense of account- ableness to his Maker. But he was not a man of frequent or profuse professions, and may have seemed to many rather highly moral than strictly religious. Yet, as I am slow to believe in any solid morality which is not based on religion, and think a pure Christian morality the consummate flower of faith, I will not insist upon a distinction which is really without a practical difference. But rigid morality, spotless purity of life, absolute freedom from the frequent vices of literary men, which gave a noble simplicity and unity to the effect of his character, had at the very centre of them a heart of purest and most practical sympathy, a lively pity for misfor- tune, an active desire to aid and alleviate sorrow, a painstaking, indefatigable zeal to render kind- DR. bellows' address. 13 nesses and work out relief for unfortunate claim- ants on the mercy of the strong, the favored, and the happy. I suspect that no private, unprofes- sional philanthropist in this community did more acts of humane service to others than Mr. Tuck- erman. He was never rich, and had probably little money to spare from his frugal but inde- pendent, self-sustained life ; but, like the apostle who said, " Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee," so he gave freely of his most precious possessions — his time, his thoughts, his pen, his sympathy, his intervention, his co-operation. If all the private letters and notes he has written, calling attention to others' wants, or sorrows, or claims, or merits, could be collected, they would fill volumes. So swift was his sympathy, so penetrating his pity, so open his ear, that he was very often the first to discern amidst silent sufferings a case for chari- table effort and furtherance. I never knew a kinder heart or a hand readier to any humane service. And, as his sympathies were quick, so were they wide, and without the smallest restriction from national, political, or religious predilections. The Italian refugee, the South American patriot, the Hungarian orator, the Cretan Christian, the struggling actor, the poor 14 SENRT T. TUCKERMAlir. artist, the ill-paid country minister — aiiy case, in short, of merit spurned, or labor unrecognized, or sorrow unheeded — drew forth the active and efficient sympathy of his mind and heart. He wasted no time in emotions, and stopped not at kind words. What he did not or could not do himself he could move others to do ; and, if all who, during the past thirty years, in this and other places of his temporary residence, have felt his sympathy and aid, should gather about his bier, there would remain little room here for any mere general respecters of his memory or honorers of his literary reputation. Ah ! how blessed is this kind of memorial ! Who ever heard an unkind word of or from our beloved friend ? He was a master of charity, quick to approve and applaud, slow to condemn. He was a friend of all, and I know not, I can hardly conceive, that he had an enemy. He showed no literary jealousy, and exhibited no undue sensi- bility either to praise or blame. Indeed, he was singularly modest and free from egotism. I can hardly recall a literary career, as long and full as his, so wholly without personal controversy, quarrel, or mistake. I remember nothing in his history to jar with the peaceful harmony of this sacred hour ! DR. bellows' address. 15 I think it must have been the unirapassioned yet ever active humanity of his heart that made the absence of any closer ties so tolerable. He wooed and married Literature, and made her his bride, and rarely seemed to feel painfully the solitude of his single life. The last time I saw him was quite accidentally, and unknown to himself, as I glanced, in passing, through the lighted window of his hotel, only the evening before he was taken ill. "He had seated himself at a table in the public reading-room, apparently to write a note, and I venture to repeat what passed through my mind at the time : that, if the note could be traced, it would be found to be in the interest of some suffering fellow-creature ! Strangely, and almost with a prevision of the interest his fate was about to awaken, I pon- dered, as I walked homeward, on his homeless life, and admired the cheerfulness and content he showed in spite of it. Perhaps his deafness had driven him to develop every independent resource of happiness, and habituated him to a solitude which, even in society, could not be wholly overcome. Perhaps his sealed ears made him less dependent on the place he lived in, and less weary of public quarters, and helped to benumb 16 HENRY T. TUCKERMAN. the aching sense of loneliness. But, truly, he was wonderfully domestic, even without any domestic life of his own, and slipped into the home circles of his friends with the most welcome and genial presence, just as I believe he has slipped suddenly into the heavenly society, a welcome and a happy guest ! He was well pre^Dared for celestial society, for he had long been accustomed to the best company this world affords, and had counted among his familiar friends most of those who have made and adorned our national literature and art. Washington Irving, Allston, Eichard H. Dana, Dr. Francis, Halleck, John P. Ken- nedy, and all our living poets and artists of note may be said to have been his personal intimates. In the closing verse of one of his sweetest poems, "To Marj'," he reveals a longing which so gentle and loving a nature as his could not fail to have sometimes felt, but which was never fully satisfied, if it was habitually experienced : " WTiat spirits round my weary way are flying, W^liat fortunes on my future life await. Like the mysterious hymns the winds are sighing. Are all unknown — in trust I bide my fate. But if one blessing I might crave from Heaven, 'Twould be, that Mary should my being cheer. Hang o'er me when the chord of life is riven. Be my dear household word and my last accent here." DR. bellows' address. 17 If his prayer was partly, it was not wholly denied ; for, wifeless and childless, he died among his kindred, the object of the warmest care and the most assiduous skill. Instead of the fond and tender regrets of wife and children, let him have the benedictions and honest tears of countless friends ; the grateful memory of the artists and authors, whose honor he kept so generously and faithfully ; the sweet regrets of the thousands he has blessed with his personal sympathy ; and the honorable fame which his country will give to a pen that never wrote a weak, or wicked, or worthless line dur-, ing a literary life of perpetual industry, ex- tended to thirty years. Let the lovers of truth and morality bless his untarnished name and wholesome influence, and religion follow his ascended spirit, in confident hope that it is at peace with God ! WORKS OF H. T. TUCKERMA.N. Rambles anrl Reveries. 12mo. New York, 1841. Thoughts on the Poets. 18mo. New Yoi-k, 1846., Artist Life : or Sketches of American Painters. 12mo. New York, 1847. Characteristics of Literature. 2 vols. 12mo. Philadelphia. Italian Sketch-Book. 12mo. New York, 1848. The Optimist. 12mo. New York, 1850. Sicily : A Pilgrimage. 12mo. New York, 1852. A Mouth in England. 12mo. Now York, 1853. Memorial of Greenough. 12mo. New York, 1853. Biographical and Critical Essays. 8vo. Boston, 1857. Sheaf of Verses for the Pair. 12mo. New York, 1864. America and the Commentators. 12mo. New York, 1864. Criterion. 12mo. New York, 1866. [Reprinted in England as " The Collector."] Book of the Artists. 8vo. New York, 1867. Papers about Paris. 18mo. 1867. Lifeof John P. Kennedy. 12mo. New York, 1871. Posthumous Works of Kennedy. Edited by H. T. T., 1871. m