Untitled - the Digital Library of Georgia

586 GEORGIA AND GEORGIANS
was so mortified over the treatment to which he had been subjected
that he lost no time in returning to the North, avowing his purpose
never again to visit Georgia, without a formal invitation. To this
resolution he adhered. However, there were some memories connected
with his visit which he did not care to forget, and which, through the
lonely days and nights succeeding his return to New York, continued
softly to serenade him, to the music of his own "Home, Sweet Home."
Between Miss Harden and Payne there doubtless passed a number,
of letters. But one in particular deserves our attention. In a wild
nutter of hope, he wrote to her, on July 18, 1836,, telling her that he
could offer her naught save his hand and heart and entreating her to
smile upon his suit. What her answer to this proposal of marriage
was, no one knows. She was always silent upon the subject; but the
fact remains that they were never married, though each remained loyal
till death. Perhaps the old general himself barred the way. He knew
that Payne was a rolling stone; and while he admired the poet's genius
he may have doubted his ability to support a helpmeet.
In after years, Payne was sent with a consular appointment to
Morocco, by the United States Government. On the eve of his depar
ture, Miss Harden requested of him an autographed copy of his
renowned song, a boon which he promptly granted. In some myste
rious manner, this copy disappeared at the time of Miss Harden's death,
giving rise to the not unnatural presumption that it was buried with
her; but her niece, Miss Mary Jackson, to whom the old Harden home
in Athens was willed and who assisted in preparing the body of her
beloved aunt for burial states that, for this supposition, there is no
ground whatever. It is not unlikely that Miss Harden herself, when
warned of approaching death, destroyed with her own hands what was
never meant for the eyes of the idly curious.
Payne, after leaving Morocco, returned to America but once in life.
On this occasion, he received a wonderful tribute from the famous
Jennie Lind, who, turning toward the box in which he sat, in a crowded
theater, sang in the richest accents which have doubtless ever been
heard on this continent, the familiar words of his inspired song. The
great Daniel Webster was a witness to this impressive scene, the mem
ory of which he carried to his grave at Marshfield.
Soon after returning to Morocco, Payne died, on April 9, 1852, at
the age of threescore years. He was buried at Tunis, where his body
rested for more than three full decades, in a foreign exile, on the shores
of North Africa. But finally, in 1883, through the efforts of the great
philanthropist, Mr. W. W. Corcoran, of Washington, D. C., the ashes
of the poet were brought back to his native land and reinterred in Oak
Hill Cemetery, on the outskirts of the nation's capital. Here, under
neath the same ground slab which marked his grave in Tunis, sleeps
the gentle poet of the hearthstone. But overlooking the sacred spot
there stands a more recent structure of pure white marble, reared by
thousands of voluntary contributions. It is surmounted by a life-size